25/08/2025
๐๐๐๐ง๐จ๐ฅ๐ | ๐๐ฟ๐ผ๐บ ๐ ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฏ๐น๐ฒ ๐๐ผ ๐ ๐ถ๐ฟ๐ฟ๐ผ๐ฟ: ๐ช๐ต๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ผ๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ถ๐ธ๐ฒ ๐จ๐
Every year on National Heroes Day, the nation bows before marble statues and flower-draped tombs. The ceremonies echo the same theme: bravery, sacrifice, and death. Streets are closed, wreaths are offered, and names are recited with solemn reverence. Yet behind the grandeur lies a simple truth: before they were heroes, they were human. They once walked with doubts, carried burdens, laughed with friends, and nursed fears like anyone else.
What if heroism is not about transcending humanity, but embracing it fully? What if what makes heroes memorable is not that they were extraordinary, but that they were ordinary and still chose to act?
๐๐๐ซ๐จ๐๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง ๐๐ข๐ฌ๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐๐ง๐๐ ๐๐ซ๐๐ข๐ง๐๐ซ๐ฒ
Consider Josรฉ Rizalโnot as a marble statue with piercing eyes, but as a student who struggled with loneliness in Madrid, scribbling notes in cramped boarding houses. Andrรฉs Bonifacio was not born into nobility but labored as a warehouse clerk who read books by candlelight. Gabriela Silang began as a farmerโs daughter in Ilocos, thrust into rebellion only after tragedy struck.
Their stories remind us that courage does not descend like lightning from the heavens. It is forged in the daily choices of ordinary people. As historian Teodoro Agoncillo (1990) observed, many of our national heroes were not elites groomed for greatness but common people who rose to the call of circumstance. Their ordinariness made their defiance all the more remarkable.
Yet, history often polishes away their human flaws and fears. We are left with sanitized versions, forgetting that their heroism was not destiny, it was a decision.
Elzon Olandria, a Political Science 4 student and the Deputy Secretary-General of the University Student Council, echoes this point. For him, leadership is not about titles but about purpose. โWhat inspired me to take action was the growing realization that leadership is not about position, but about purpose. Even before becoming part of the highest student representative body, I was deeply involved in advocacy-driven initiatives. What moved me was seeing how students, when empowered, can spark real change.โ
For Olandria, heroism is not grand but consistent: the quiet persistence of serving, creating spaces for others, and committing to the community.
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ญ๐ก ๐จ๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐ญ๐ฒ๐๐จ๐ฆ
Filipino heroism has long been equated with martyrdom. Rizalโs ex*****on, Ninoy Aquinoโs assassination, and countless unnamed martyrs of resistance movements are memorialized as proof of ultimate sacrifice. Their deaths serve as rallying points for collective memory.
But why is death seen as the ultimate proof of patriotism? Sociologist, Randy David (2022), warns that by equating heroism solely with martyrdom, society risks neglecting the living who quietly resist despair and corruption. It is easier to honor a hero once dead than to support their cause while alive.
Death mymythologizes, but it also distances. We raise martyrs to the clouds, but in doing so, we forget the humanity they carried with them until the last breath.
Youth activist Jan Sander Aban, from the National Union of Students in the PhilippinesโBicol and Kabataan Partylist, shares a similar critique. โSa mundong puno ng sistematikong hamonโฆ pribilehiyo ang magsakripisyo. Pribilehiyo ang maging martyr. Ibaโt iba naman yung porma ng paglaban natin at lahat ito ay valid. Lahat din ito ay pagsasakripisyo at pagbibigay ng buhay.โ
His words highlight how equating heroism only with death ignores the varied forms of sacrificeโacademic burdens borne by student leaders, struggles of farmers and fisherfolk, or even the emotional toll of grassroots activism.
๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ๐ฒ๐๐๐ฒ ๐๐๐ซ๐จ๐ข๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐๐จ๐๐๐ฒ
If history insists on death as a requirement for heroism, what of the living? Consider the jeepney driver who wakes before dawn to send his children to school. The nurse who endures 12-hour shifts at a crowded ward. The farmer who bends his back under the sun to feed a nation that often forgets him.
They are called โmodern heroesโ during speeches, yet too often, their ordinariness makes their struggles invisible. A 2020 Philippine Daily Inquirer report documented how health frontliners were even attacked and discriminated against at the height of the pandemic, treated as risks rather than protectors (Mayol & Fernandez, 2020). Such contradictions reveal a society eager to romanticize sacrifice but reluctant to extend care.
For Aban, an ordinary hero is simply someone who persists despite hardship. โSila yung mga estudyante-lider na pinagsasabay ang pang-akademikong responsibilidad at maging representante ng masang estudyante. Sila yung mga magsasakang nagpapatuloy kahit na napapabayaan ng gobyerno. Sila yung mga gurong kahit na babad sa administrative works pero passionate parin sa pagmumulat sa mata ng kabataan. Sila yung mga LGBTQIA+ rights lobbyist na patuloy na isinusulong ang SOGIE Bill.โ
And for Olandria, heroism is not for applause but for responsibility. โHeroism in student leadership is found in those who choose to lead not for applause, but to create opportunities for others. When student leaders commit themselves to building inclusive spaces, empowering voices, and taking action for the common good, that is a form of everyday heroism.โ
With a similar notion, for Luisito Gonzales Jr., an AB Political Science 4 student, heroism is lived daily in the rice fields. It does not always appear in textbooks or on statues. โBeing a hero in so many ways as being a farmer is being humble, living deliberately na parang everyday is a sacrifice, a struggle, a new determination na pupunta ka sa palayan just to make sure na everything is okayโmaganda yung binhi, maganda yung magiging ani natin because dito lang tayo nagre-rely.โ
He notes that while farmers are recognized as the โbackbone of the nation,โ this acknowledgment is not always matched by tangible support. โMaganda yung recognition na โyon, but yet yung service and allocation na nabibigay sa farmers natin is hindi ganoโn ka equitable. Hindi kami naghahangad ng sobrang laking recognition sa gobyerno. Ang gusto lang talaga namin is that mabigyan sana din kami ng karapat-dapat na serbisyong matanggap, financially, and for sustainability ng mga crops.โ
Luisito emphasizes the laborious and meticulous nature of farming: planting, tending, removing pests, ensuring the health of each crop. Heroism, he explains, is in the daily persistence that sustains life. โNakikita lang ng tao is that aani lang kami pero hindi nila nakikita na bago mag-ani, anong proseso yung pag-uma (pagsasaka), sa paglatag ng palay, sa paglagay ng pesticide, ng pataba. And throughout the journey of that is everyday struggle and everyday sacrifice of a farmer.โ
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฆ ๐จ๐ ๐๐จ๐ฆ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ข๐๐ข๐ณ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐ฎ๐๐๐๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐
Overseas Filipino Workers are praised as โBagong Bayaniโ for their remittances that keep the economy afloat. Yet behind the glossy title are tales of abuse, homesickness, and broken families. Glorification often masks structural neglect, as if endurance of pain is proof of patriotism. This glorification often obscures why they had to leave in the first placeโlimited job opportunities, poverty, and structural neglect from the state (Retuerma, 2010).
As Encinas-Franco (2015) notes, the term Bagong Bayani itself was a political invention, popularized under President Corazon Aquino in 1988 to exalt OFWs as economic saviors. But migration is rarely a choice of opportunityโit is often a necessity born of desperation. Despite contributing $36.14 billion in remittances in 2022 (Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas, 2023), many OFWs face abuse, unsafe conditions, and the heavy cost of family separation.
The pandemic revealed similar contradictions. Health workers were hailed as โfrontline heroes,โ yet many faced delayed benefits, exhaustion, and even physical attacks.
Activists, too, are vilified as subversives while alive but sanctified as martyrs only in death. Praise without protection, gratitude without justiceโthis is the paradox of modern heroism.
Focusing on sacrifice as a measure of heroism risks normalizing hardship itself instead of addressing its root causes. Recognition should not be contingent on sufferingโit should drive us to create systems where dignity and opportunity donโt depend on enduring exploitation.
๐๐๐ข๐ฆ๐๐ ๐ข๐ง๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐จ๐ข๐ฌ๐ฆ
Perhaps it is time to break the marble pedestal and hold up a mirror instead. Heroism is not reserved for statues; it is reflected in daily acts of courage, honesty, and care. The teacher who insists on teaching values in an underfunded school. The tricycle driver who returns a forgotten wallet. The youth activist who stands firm in the face of red-tagging.
As Luisito reflects, โItโs about persistence, about sustaining life, about making sure the seeds we plant today feed others tomorrow. We rely on ourselves. If help comes, weโre thankful; if not, we keep working. Thatโs heroism.โ
On the other hand, as Olandria puts it, it is about perseverance and collective progress. โItโs about creating spaces where others realize their own power and responsibility in nation-building. Our mantra in the University Student Council, In the service of the BUeno and the broader community,โ reminds us that leadership is service.โ
Aban likewise grounds heroism not in social status but in solidarity. โBayani ka kung may puso kang nakikiisa sa danas ng bayan at ng masang Pilipino. Bayani ka kung may ginagawa ka, malaki man o hindi, para sa bayan.โ
In these voices, heroism returns to where it belongsโin the human, the fragile, the ordinary.
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ฅ๐ ๐๐๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ง๐ฌ, ๐๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ซ๐จ๐ซ ๐๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ญ๐ฌ
Flowers will wilt on monuments, and ceremonies will fade with the day. The marble remains, cold and distant. But the mirror reflects what we choose to see: ourselves.
To honor our heroes is not to memorize their death anniversaries, but to embrace their humanity and recognize the courage within our own. For in the end, heroes are not gods to be worshipped, but people who remind us of what we, too, can become.
๐๐ธ๐บ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ต๐ฉ ๐. ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฏ
