I picked up one of my dad's old texts - Philippines Prose and Poetry for Appreciate, Volume IV - and found this on pages 346-350. Here it is in its entirety, with the original punctuation and spelling from the book.
The Tyranny of False Values - Gonzalo GonzalezI am the youth of the land. I am told that I am inconstant and frivolous, that am soft and easygoing. I am accused of being supercilious and cynical, of not having the right attitude. And since I do not know where this country is headed for, that they wonder with a gloomy sense of foreboding what I shall do with this land when it is left to me as my heritage, when it is willed to me as my own.
I am the youth of the land. I am cynical, I do not have the right attitude. But looking around me, I see a wooden platform gaily bedecked with the red, white and blue of my country. The band plays the national anthem, my heart swells with pride as do the hearts of Filipinos, shoving and crowding as far as the eye can see. The speaker rises-the tumult and the clamor dies. He brings: Fellow countrymen: We should support militant Filipinism, we should hold all things Filipino in high esteem, we should patronize home industry. I, the youth of the land, am impressed; I, the youth of the land, glow with patriotic fervor; I, the youth of the land, am convinced-almost. For I, with the irrepressible curiosity of youth, look up and see that the speaker, like myself, is a Filipino-more than that, he is my leader, and he is wearing a hat from Italy, a shirt from New York, trousers of the finest wool of New England, shoes from Great Britain, jewelry from France, and perhaps, underwear from Japan. I, the youth of the land, am disappointed. But my leaders say that I am cynical, and our leaders know whereof they speak.
I listen to exhortations towards the leader of a strenuous and Spartan life, that our race may gain in strength, that our people may drink deep of the blood and iron of stamina-that we Filipinos shall be equal to the tasks that face us, in a merciless world. But I cannot help listening to tales of wonderment and magnificence that float over the waters of Manila Bay and over our inland seas-as our leaders prepare us for the struggle of an independent existence by teaching us a life of comfort and ease-a life garbed in the velvet and gold of luxury, yet rotted to the core by the cancer of racial degeneracy. I, the youth of the land, am disillusioned. But in my disillusionment I see the shattered dreams of my leaders who bid me follow a path they do not tread, who command me bear a torch they do not light, who will me a trust they do not keep. But my leaders say that I am supercilious and insincere, and our leaders know whereof they speak.
I am the youth of the land. I am easygoing and parasitic. I am irresponsible. Perhaps I should cease to be parasitic by being politic. Perhaps I should be a man of responsibility-a man responsible for a certain number of votes in one little corner of the party's official map. For I may be a lawyer, doctor, writer, merchant, farmer, soldier,-make me what you wil- but if I do not possess the ability of backslapping, of saying
"Yes sir, amigo, compadre, honorable," then I am a useless appendage to society. Why should I work my fingers to the bone, why should I throw on me the ponderous burden of responsibility, when I see that the third cousin in the maternal line of the collateral relative once removed of this leader is given a choice position by virtue of his eminent qualifications for the post, qualifications based not upon the degree of merit according to the Civil Service, but upon the degree of relationship according to the Civil Code. To the youth of the land it may seen anomalous that his leaders, who have been able to climb to their present heights of eminence because of the democratic tenet of equality of opportunity, refuse this same concession-nay, this same right to those who come after them. To the youth of the land it may seem disastrous for his government to content itself with entrusting its services to those who cannot fulfill the demands of those services, and thus sow the seed of discord and lack of faith among a people. To the youth of the land it may seem humorous-for it pays to be humorous when one cannot be anything else. But my leaders say that the youth of the land is parasitic and irresponsible, and our leaders know whereof they speak.
I am the youth of the land. I am inconstant and frivolous. Perhaps I should look to my leaders, they being the embodiment of constancy and serious-mindedness. For, is it not constancy to publicly celebrate innumerable birthdays-that the official calendar shall have 365 days-each day named after one government saint-San Miguel, San Vicente, San Jose, San Ramon, San Joaquin-and birthday upon birthday, celebration upon celebration, contribution upon contribution-to guarantee their political well-wishers many happy returns. It is not constancy to eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may not be renominated? Is it not constancy to perpetually entangle oneself in the melee of party strife, instead of eventually taking the disinterested and constructive attitude of the statesman? For, while the right to vote may be a democratic prerogative, while any man may have the right to run for office, there also exists the democratic right of seeing that the men in office represent their constituents, not the party, that the men in office shall serve the people, not themselves, that the men in office shall be constructive, not destructive. But my leaders say that I am inconstant and frivolous, and our leaders know whereof they speak.
I am the youth of the land. I do not stand before you to whitewash my errors. I admit that the accusations hurled against me are in great part true. But in all justice, in all fairness, in all deference to truth, do not hold me entirely accountable for my failings, do not overburden me with the sins of the world, do not crucify me on a cross I did not fashion.
I For, if you, my accusers, are led astray by the veneer of democracy, if you are deceived by the sham of formality, do not expect that I be serious-minded and constant, do not stand outraged if I flaunt the tinseled trappings of my forebears.
If you, my accusers, those wide open the doors of opportunity to competent and the incompetent, if you welcome the responsible and irresponsible, do not ask that I be competent, do not demand that I be responsible.
If you, my accusers, have not progressed from politics to statesmanship and have done little constructive work at the age of fifty, do not demand that I mature from childhood to manhood, that I move the earth at twenty.
For you, my leaders, are of today and yesterday. Yours was the youthfulness that first saw the light of freedom dawn, mine is the youthful spirit that sees the light of liberty imperilled. Yours was the hand that struck at the heart of an empire; mine, the hand born to build the eternal. Do not train me to a leadership that cannot be mine, do not show me an indolence I can never afford, do not accustom me to an arrogance I shall never enjoy, do not lead me into a way of life I shall never know. For I cannot build without my strength, I cannot suffer without any hopes, I cannot live without my dreams.
I may be youth-I may be inexperienced-but I am not blind. I can see the future with a certainty that I alone can feel, for I feel it in my blood. As I see my leaders who have built a towering mansion of state on sand. and the sand shifts and the towering mansion falls. Not a pillar stands, for all is ruin. and wandering among the shambles and in that mass of ruins I stumble upon the monuments of upturned graves of my leaders. And my soul is black with resentment, and I curse them with a hatred that only youth can possesss, as I state at the bleak sky and wear: May your memory be damned by my destiny! And the picture becomes vaguer, and more fearful in its vagueness, as it comes closer and grows more terrifying in its certainty. And I am alone and helpless in my youth, and I reach forth for a hand to guide me. And what I ask is so little.
Give me leaders who shall lift themselves above the morass of party strife, who shall devote themselves no longer to the privileged minority but to the cause of the underprivileged majority.
Give me leaders who shall lead lives fraught with hardship and sacrifice, who shall demand of themselves before they demand of me.
Give me leaders who shall leave successors tempered in the crucible of merit.
Give me leaders and theirs is my mind to mould. Give me leaders and theirs is my blood to shed. Give me leaders and theirs is my will to command. Give me leaders and theirs is my destiny to shape. Give me leaders-and I shall follow them to the ends of the earth.
TUESDAY, APRIL 6th:
"WE ARE STARDUST" SPELLED IN AMINO ACIDS TATTOOED ON MY ARM. Tryptophan, glutamic acid. Alanine, arginine, glutamic acid. Serine, threonine, alanine, arginine, asparatic acid, selenocysteine, serine, threonine.
I hope some stern but loving prof chastises me for writing a test with notes so blatantly written on my arm...only to discover that they cannot be scrubbed off. "Well, you're not going to have those notes your whole life!"
"Actually sir..."
This is the point where my prof discovers my true dedication to science and takes my suggestion for a new study which will be on the cover of the New England Journal of Medicine and I will be (the well-deserved) first-author which will be so amazing I get a full scholarship into every medical school in North America. (The US med schools will also offer comprehensive health insurance.)