Shattering the myths about Rizal and the Pontifical UST

January 21, 2009

This can be very exhaustive as i deal with historical facts apropos of the relationship of Jose Rizal with the University of
Santo Tomas. I am indebted to Fr. Fidel Villaroel, OP, the eminent historian and former archivist of the UST Archives for
giving me the distinct privilege (without going through the norms and policies) of touring the archives and letting me
examined some important documents pertaining but not principally to the history of the Philippines. As a pioneering
institution of learning – from the martyrdom of Gomez, Burgos and Zamora, to the propaganda movement, to the revolution
of 1896, to the birth of the Republic in 1898, to the commonwealth period and finally to the restoration of independence in
1946 – it is therefore presumptuous to assume the UST has had a hand in the making of the history of the Philippines.

Sadly, in spite of some efforts of few academicians and historians to present a more truthful history of the UST during the
Spanish era, many still were caught off guard and instead decided to rely on meager source materials. Worse, some merely
copied what pre-war and post-war authors written in the past 100 years. New generation writers, historians and biographers
of Jose Rizal are no exception to such historians like Retana, Craig, Russel, Laudback, Coates, Hernandez and Zaide who
had pictured a villain character of the university.

As what Fr. Villaroel said, none of the biographers and historians took the time of looking into the original academic records
of Rizal. Neither there were efforts on their part to make a study on UST based on the archival records of the Pontifical
University. “It has been treated inadequately, at times, with a good deal of misunderstanding, exaggeration or prejudice.”

The second confusion was their failure to understand the underlying principles behind the anti-friars and anti-UST writings
of Rizal particularly the El Fili.

After seeing the documents at the UST Archives and reading Fr. Villaroel’s well-written study on Rizal and the University of
Santo Tomas, I can only scoff at those who bask at their ignorance and use many of the myths to advance their cause.
Such is the case of some anti-UST people who undoubtedly use these myths for their own good. In the words of Dr.
Serafin Quiason, former chairman of the National Historical Institue, “it is a great virtue of his (Fr. Villaroel) study that he
sweeps away many of the myths which have passed for facts for almost three quarters of a century. He has solved many
difficult questions and the readers can be grateful for a valuable and devoted piece of work.”

This article intends to rectify some issues pertaining to the negative pictures projected about Rizal’s relationship with his
alma mater, the University of Santo Tomas based on the study by Fr. Villaroel who had diligently dug through the archival
materials of UST and Archivo de la Provincia del Sto. Rosario. Was Rizal discriminated and treated shabbily by the
Dominicans? Why did he leave UST? Why did he criticize the University years later? How are the stories of El Filibusterismo
to be understood?

Here are some excerpts from Fr. Fidel Villaroel’s study:

Myth: Rizal complained about his grades in UST and was discriminated and treated shabbily by the Dominicans.

Fact: 1. Rizal entered the UST in 1877, enrolling in the Pre-Law Course, which was made up of philosophical subjects. The
course was commonly called metaphysics. He passed the course brilliantly with the highest grades in spite of his initial
indifference to philosophy and his youthful distractions through the year. Then he opted for the career of medicine. And in
1878-1879 he took simultaneously the Pre-Medical Course and the First Year of Medicine; this was against the rules, but
Rizal was favored with a dispensation. The Pre-Medicine Course was also called Ampliacion, because the student, having
taken already Physics, Chemistry and Natural History in the high school, now took an advanced course on the same subjects
(Rizal did not take in Santo Tomas the “class of physics” described in El Fili but rather in Ateneo).
In his courses of medicine, Rizal was a good student, above-average, though not excellent; but none of his classmates were
excellent either. Summing up, in the 21 subjects taken in UST, Rizal obtained one aprobado (passing grade),
eight bueno (good), six notable (very good) and six sobresaliente (excellent). Majority of students in Rizal’s time, or in any
time, would have been satisfied with the above grades. It is possible that Rizal was not, but it is a fact that he never
complained about his grades, there is not a single word in his works showing displeasure at the unfairness of UST.

Yet many of his biographers are angry, unreasonably angry at the treatment given to the national hero by his alma mater.
How could Rizal, after a perfect record of “Excellent” in the high school (Ateneo) now receive such “low” grades at UST?
The critics had to look for an explanation, and since they did not find fault in Rizal, then they had to blame the Dominicans
and UST. And from Retana to Austin Craig, from Frank Lauback to Austin Coates and to quite a long line of Filipino
biographers (with some exceptions), we only hear the same repeated lamentation that every school child must now learn in
the textbooks: that Rizal was “below his usual standards”, and for the extremely serious charge that the “Dominican
professors were hostile to him” and “the Filipino students were racially discriminated” (Zaide), and that there was “excessive
harping on the alleged intellectual superiority of the Spanish (because he was white) to the Filipino, a brown man, and Indio
(JM Hernandez), and so on. An objective historian must squarely face and honestly answer these grave statements, which
sound like accusations.

Was Rizal “far below his usual standards”? What standards, in the first place? If by usual standards we mean the grades of
his Ateneo high school studies, the comparison is unfair. Nobody places elementary or high school standards against
college or University standards. They belong to different levels. At Ateneo municipal, Rizal was excellent, though not the
only excellent student. At the UST, none of his classmates ever got near to keeping a straight record of Excellent. And this
was because Medicine was a different kind of stuff altogether.

Therefore, if we are to arrive at a just appreciation of Rizal’s performance at the UST, we should compare, not his grades in
the high school with those in the university, but Rizal’s grades in Medicine against those of his classmates. In the first year
of medicine, Rizal’s class was made up of 24 students, but due to academic failures, seventeen of them were left by the
roadside before they reached the fourth year, when only seven took the final examinations. And in this fourth (and for Rizal
last) year, he landed in second place behind Cornelio Mapa. A persecuted Rizal would have probably ended by the same
roadside as the seventeen “debarred” classmates, or would have never boasted of being second when he left for Spain in
1882.

2. It can hardly be said that Rizal was discriminated and treated shabbily by the Dominicans since he was granted the rare
privilege of studying simultaneously in the Preparatory Course of Medicine and the First Year of Medicine.

Records likewise show that six Spaniards were enrolled with Rizal in the first year of Medicine, of whom three were
Peninsular and three Philippine-born. If the criticism of some biographers were true, these six students would have been
favored by the friars. Yet at the end of the fourth year there remained only one Philippine-born Spaniard, Jose Resurrección
y Padilla, who managed to get only a poor passing grade (aprobado), last among successful students, and who in the
following year received a crushing suspenso. It would be unkind to rejoice over failures, whether of Spanish or of Filipinos,
but the biographers of Rizal will not be convincing unless they prove with valid documents the existence of “racial
discrimination” in UST in the 19th century when it came to academic grades.

3. Rizal’s inclinations and abilities must be taken into account. While he was undoubtedly inclined to, and remarkably fitted
for, the arts and letters, he was not much attracted to Medicine. “Perhaps – says Leon Ma. Guerrero – Medicine was not his
real vocation”. Medicine was a convenient career taken up in consideration of the poor health of Rizal’s mother, whom he
wanted to help, and eventually helped as a physician.

4. When Rizal transferred to Spain and continued his studies at the University of Madrid, he showed there similar
characteristics. He was sobresaliente in the humanistic studies (literature, languages, history), while in Medicine he fared
worse than at the University of Santo Tomas. Yet no historian or biographer has ever complained about his poor
performance in Madrid or hinted that Rizal was discriminated against in that Central University.

5. Rizal had Dominican friends in the persons of Fr. Evaristo Arias and Fr. Joaquin Fonseca. It was while studying at UST
that Rizal obtained public recognition as a poet. It was the Dominican; Fr. Arias who helped him cultivate his craft in poetry.
During his Thomasian years, Rizal composed the best poems of his pre-European period, one of them being A la Juventud
Filipina, winner of the first prize in the contest organized by the Liceo Artístico-Literario in 1879.

Myth: Rizal is said to have left UST for the following reasons:

a. because a certain professor of UST caused him displeasure (P. Pastells, SJ, 1897)

b. becase the atmosphere in UST (meaning Thomistic atmosphere) suffocated him, and “it is presumed that because of it he
left” (E. Retana, 1907)

c. because in his class of medicine the lay professor made a statement contrary to the textbook and then he refused to
permit discussion or to give explanations; “so Rizal decided he was wasting his time to remain in the University” (Craig,
1909)

d. because he found unfriendliness in the University, (Lauback, 1936)

e. because UST could not give “fuller learning” to the youth, and its “usefulness was almost, if not altogether nil.” (D.
Abella, 1965)

Fact: Twenty authors quoting from the same erroneous source commit the same error twenty times over. Therefore, what
the quoted authors have said must be submitted to scrutiny. More significantly, all the authors quoted above have one thing
in common: none of them quote any historical source, like words from Rizal’s correspondence, his articles, etc. If any source
is ever mentioned it is infallibly the novel El Fili.

But is there not, we ask, a better source to support historical facts than a novel? In the present case, there
seems to be no other, and for one fundamental reason: because Rizal never revealed in clear terms why he left the
Philippines in 1882. Neither he nor his brother Paciano, nor his uncle Antonio Rivera, nor his most intimate friends. Not a
clear word from them, who were the only persons who could have known. This fact leads us to conclude that the writers
who put the blame for Rizal’s departure on the University of Santo Tomas are only guessing, honestly guessing of
course, but mistakenly. It is almost needless to enter into discussion with those writers who lay the responsibility for
Rizal’s departure at the door of UST. But let us face the question squarely.

1. It has been stated that a certain professor, more concretely a lay professor of medicine, disagreed with the textbook and
refused to entertain discussion on the topics of his subject (so Pastells and Craig). This professor is identified by Craig as
one who, some years later, was classmate of Rizal at the University of Madrid. He was Dr. Jose Franco who, as professor of
Rizal in Santo Tomas, had threatened to fail the whole medical class (P. Pastells). But granting that Professor Franco was
speaking seriously, it is quite improbable that Rizal decided to leave the Philippines for an incident with one professor, who
besides did not fail him in the final examinations. Rizal’s companions and friends did not seem to have noticed any
misunderstanding between Rizal and any professor, as shown in a letter of Jose M. Cecilio: “Your departure without notice
has caused surprise among many friends to the point of stirring their curiosity. They ask whether there were serious matters
going on which prompted you to leave.”

2.To attribute Rizal’s departure to what one author calls “rampant bigotry, discrimination and persecution” existing in UST,
whether said in general or whether specifically referring to Rizal, is a gratuitous accusation expressed in ready-made
phrases loaded with feeling. I presume that an educational policy like the one implied in such words has never existed in
any school or university anywhere in any period. As for Rizal, we have already explained with academic records on hand,
that there was in fact discrimination in his favor when he was allowed to take simultaneously the Preparatory course of
Medicine and the First Course of Medicine Proper. And finally, he was one of the seven, out of 26, who reached the
beginning of the fifth year course, which he started in Madrid. All this has been shown here without rhetoric, without feeling
and only with the aid of laconic, diplomatic record as basis.

3.That the UST did not provide “fuller learning” to its students, and that this prompted some of them like Rizal to go abroad,
as suggested by some authors, might be as true then as it can be true at any other period of her history. This can also be
said of any Philippine university today. The temptation to try better institutions abroad is always better, and those who can
afford it, occasionally fall for it. There is no denying that, in the last quarter of the 19th century, Europe offered to the
students of science, philosophy, literature and every aspect of material progress, horizons of learning that no colonial land in
other continents could possibly give in such measure. But if many students like Rizal went abroad is search of “fuller
learning” and profited from that experience, it would be wrong to conclude that a university like UST was therefore
worthless. Whether by choice or by the force of circumstances many more students stayed behind than left for
Europe, and those who remained received a tertiary education of such quality that enabled them to become
builders of the Philippine Republic. Thomasians trained here and only here were Pedro Peláez and Jose Burgos,
Apolinario Mabini and Cayetano Arellano, Manuel Araullo and the Mapa brothers, Sergio Osmeña and Manuel
L. Quezon, Leon Maria Guerrero and Anacleto del Rosario, Felipe Calderon and Epifanio de los Santos, etc.
and most of the men of the Malolos Congress, all belonging to the generation of Rizal.

Until further historical research can project more light on the life of Rizal, little more remains to be said on this point. This
little more is reduced to the following: If neither the UST records nor the correspondence of Rizal with Paciano and his
family nor his letters to or from his intimate friends can support the alleged misunderstanding between Rizal and the
University; if those documents do not explain the reasons for Rizal’s departure for Spain, then I believe that the only valid
recourse left to the historian is the recourse to the oral tradition. And two traditions come handily on our way, one
preserved in Rizal’s own family and another in the University of Santo Tomas.

Myth: The “Class of Physics” (Chapter 13) in El Filibusterismo is autobiographical of Rizal’s stay in UST and that Rizal’s
anti-friars and anti-UST writings are reflective of how the national hero loathed the University.

Fact: 1. While in Europe (1882-1892), Rizal changed considerably in at least one aspect, in his attitude towards religion. He
gave up some basic and essential tenets of his faith and ceased to be a practicing Catholic. This was due mainly to his
continuous association with many rationalist thinkers and liberal politicians of Spain and other countries of Europe. A new
rationalistic approach to life and his affiliation to freemasonry accentuated his anti-clerical sentiments and his antipathy for
the Catholic Church, for her belief and external manifestations (dogmas, rites and rituals and devotional life). These
changes in Rizal must be taken into account when assessing his ironic criticism of the Church, the religious
Orders and the University of Santo Tomas. History showed that the attacks thrown by propagandists at Santo Tomas,
particularly the Church, were just part and parcel of the clash between liberalism and Thomism. And that the attack thrown
at Santo Tomas, which was under the Royal patronage of Spain, was not unique since every university in Europe like Oxford
received the same fate for upholding Thomism. The Vatican in an encyclical endorsed Thomism as an instrument to
counteract rationalism, which at that time began to penetrate all spheres of society.

2. Crucially affecting this new attitude of criticism were the events that occurred in Calamba from 1887 onwards as a result
of the famous agrarian litigation between his family and the Dominican Hacienda. Whatever reasons for dissension might
have existed in previous years due to worsening economic conditions affecting the country at large, Rizal’s personal
intervention in the affair in 1887 precipitated the legal suit. The case ended in the courts with an adverse sentence against
the family and other tenants and the tragic deportation of some of Rizal’s immediate relatives. That social question and
lawsuit had nothing to do with the UST, but it surely soured Rizal’s pen when writing about an educational institution that
was run by the owners of Calamba Hacienda. We have here another factor for his critical attitude; again he had not in mind
any past academic experience.
3. The novel El Fili was written precisely during the years of the Calamba agrarian crisis (any student of literature or a
practicing writer would agree that if there are things that affect the consciousness of a writer, it would be the moment, the
milieu, and the race).

The “Class of Physics” is the subject of chapter 13 of the Fili, a subject that some historians and biographers
have used and abused lavishly. They have a reason, because the story comes in very handily to illustrate the student
years of Rizal at the UST, regardless of the novelistic character of the source.

The practical question here is whether the story of the “Class of Physics” really happened on even one day, whether it
reflects educational methods practiced in UST in the 19th century, or whether Rizal was just creating a scene suitable to the
aims of the novel, that is, to attack and discredit the religious institutes. Some biographers easily believe Retana’s remark
that “this chapter is an accurate picture of what happened in the Pontifical University of Manila when Rizal studied there.” a
remark written of course, when Retana had turned into a bitter enemy of the religious orders.

But even taking for granted that Rizal based his story on some incident that happened during his university years, this is no
reason to conclude that the general life of the University was similar. And as for the bleak picture of the physical
classroom itself, the UST still possess the schedules of classes in those years, and the Class of Physics is
invariably assigned to the Physics Laboratories, not to an ordinary classroom.

Finally, Austin Coates’ statement that this chapter of the Fili is “clearly autobiographical” is totally unacceptable, if by
autobiographical he meant that the experience of Placido was actually felt by Rizal personally or by some of his classmates.
And the reason is very simple: Rizal did not take Physics at the UST. He had taken that course at the Ateneo
Municipal in 1876-1877. Rafael Palma who took up Physics and Chemistry in 1890 at Ateneo Municipal, a little over ten
years after Rizal, recalled later that the laboratory materials in use at the Ateneo for teaching Natural History and Physics
were “very poor” (Rafael Palma, My Autobiography, Manila 1953).

The whole chapter is a caricature, very useful for the aims of the novel; it is not Rizal’s biography.