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By birth is not by chance.

That one is born with a distinctly Malay and not an aquiline nose, into a society with the Abu Sayaf and not one with the Mafia, into a copycat American society and not original American, is a happenstance only to the non-Christian. The Christian believes that By Birth is not By Chance. He believes that his life is predetermined, and that his purpose in life is to love The One Who Predetermines. Should he find his space other than in his place of birth, that, too, has been predetermined.

This belief in God, though, is not a requirement to understand this thesis. What is solicited from the reader is an acknowledgement that Place of Birth is an existential fact, indubitable, as brown is the color of my skin.

The majority of those who decide to move settles into a lackadaisical nationality that can only be described as “Filipino-Born American with A Strange Ilonggo-American Accent, Speaking To Mostly Filipinos and Living in a Filipino Neighborhood in America, Sending Postcards to Relatives Back Home and Extolling the Virtues of the America They Barely Know and See and Accept.”

It is a life-changing decision because it is life-long: in Robert Frost’s words, “knowing how way leads on to way, I doubt if I should ever come back.”

Surrendering one’s past and place of birth must be considered – at least – as a landmark decision in life, as one would regard marriage or accepting the Lord as personal savior.

The decision has repercussions on the individual and on the country, but the Filipino today has no hint of the gravity of packing up and moving off to a comfortable place.

He can do so without guilt.

What we have to do is plant the seeds of guilt, and make him see the act as betrayal, as any national of any country should be made to feel, and should feel.

The Filipino who moves on, must know that he is, in a small or large way, changing his country of birth, and must make up his mind only after much labor.

What Love of Country?

The Filipino may choose to stay in the Philippines and “owe it his happiness” but he does not see it as important as choosing “the trench in which I fight”.

The absence of fervor for his country is appalling; especially when we espy the average American standing, hand on chest, singing his national anthem with ardor, even piety. It has been suggested that we inherited the deficiency from the Spaniards, whose love for country is far from arduous, while the Americans are more proficient in the art of propaganda and brainwashing.

The educational system, naturally, is the culprit. While we could inspect the entire parade of experiences that should have contributed to engendering this nationalistic spirit in the Filipino, education is the more controllable medium of nationalism, and the teacher the man with blood on his hands.

continued: The teacher is the culprit.

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