Unlike EDSA traffic, we moved on

The nation “celebrates,” commemorates or mark the 44th anniversary of the declaration of Martial Law today. Ironically Sept. 21, 1972 was merely the day Ferdinand Marcos formally and publicly announced Martial Law, but for those who were closer to the circle of events, Martial Law started Sept. 19, 1972. That’s when Martial Law enforcers fanned out of Malacañang and started to arrest and detain the people at the top of their list, close down offices and businesses of enemies and systematically “surprise” their enemies before they realized what was going on.

After a month in hiding, my Dad Louie Beltran began to worry that he might be the last remaining journalist at large and did not want people to think that he folded his cards, so he called his best friend and compadre Police General James “Jimmy” Barbers to arrange his booking at the “Crame Hilton” a.k.a Camp Crame Gym under the management of a certain Col. Fidel V. Ramos. From there began his four months detention and I remember so vividly accompanying my Mother Marita as she sought out Kit Tatad who was Minister of Information to seek the release of my Dad. Tatad obviously could not do.

For many years, my father was given the impression by a high-ranking Metrocom official that his warrant of arrest was ordered by Imelda Marcos or one of her relatives. It was only when Senator Juan Ponce Enrile (who was Minister of Defense) told me on “Straight Talk” that he had my dad detained for being “makulit,” did we learn the truth.

During my Dad’s detention, I ended up requiring spinal surgery, my Grandmother had a heart attack, my step-grandfather was denied promotions and sent off to far flung places, and once freed my Dad was unemployed for four years and treated like a criminal required to report to the ISAF or some office to get permission to go to Tagaytay or to Baguio for school vacation. Little by little, we sold off property, cars that would now be highly collectible, it did not take long for our home to look like a store after a major clearance sale.

Recalling the past, I remember an incident in UP-IMC when an “activist” challenged me to join the protests instead of hanging out at the college amounting to nothing. I retorted by asking: where were you when my Dad went to jail? Where were you when we could barely make ends meet and I actually shot pigeons for lunch? Where were you when we suffered wiretaps, stalkers and DPAs in our lives and community, all hoping to pin us, or frame us up as communists or drug users? I paid my bill and I was fed up with “activists” telling me I was useless.

Like many Filipinos, my mother, siblings and relatives suffered by association or relationship with a print and TV journalist. That is the price we paid along with the perks we enjoyed before Martial Law. We were not “Enemies of the State”; we did not actively undermine it. We were not associated with any anti-government groups or movements. That I suppose was the true injustice for us; we were law-abiding citizens, not rebels. We were not Communists, not even activists who adhered to the violent overthrow of the republic. But then again so were most Filipinos back then.

Unlike the traffic on EDSA, we have moved on. We have not forgotten and we have not forgiven simply because there are no enemies to forgive. Martial Law was a political process and event, not some personal vendetta, except in the case of those who openly declared war on the government or lost huge businesses as a consequence of their business practice, political alliances, or economic impact on the nation as oligarchs or monopolies.

Everything is part of the process chain. We learned and understood early in life about the consequences of individual actions and choices. If you choose to be in the battle of “Righteousness” then expect to get attacked. If you pick a fight or declare war against the government or an enemy expect to get hurt or see casualties. If you decided to devote yourself to a cause, it might be wise to consider the impact to those related or associated with you because they too will pay a price usually too much for too little. My father’s “enemies” or jailers did not choose to hurt or punish us; our “sufferings” was a consequence. Since then I have met other journalists from that era who chose to leave the country. Leaving did not make them less patriotic or professional, they simply exercised a choice and took responsibility for their decision by living out the consequence.

Whether it’s Martial Law, failed relationships, ruined careers, we will eventually have to come to terms and determine how much of the problem, or the injury, is our fault. I have had my own “demons” and tragedies and one of the first steps to recovery was recognizing my role or my part in it. Often enough, God gives us warning signs, friends tell us to stop, even difficulty comes our way, but we insist or persist in walking through the path of woes. There is Destiny and there is choice. More often than not our tragedies and our pain come from our choices, the people we believe in, rely upon and the lines we draw or the lines we cross. Unfortunately, we often or always make it somebody else’s fault.

Yes, Martial Law was evil, unlawful and wicked. But Martial Law was not one man or woman. It was an act. Nowadays, the blame is thrown at “Marcos,” he’s dead, but in many cases of murder, sexual abuse, torture, and confiscation, or plunder during Martial Law, the real guilty persons were people in a uniform, politicians or businessmen with competing interests. Many “Demons” from that period still walk the earth, unrepentant. Take the fight to those who directly hurt you and if you can’t because they are too big or too far, remember this verse: “Leave room for vengeance is mine, says the Lord” (Romans12:19) & “Those who put their trust in the Lord will never be put to shame” (Psalm 25:3). Finally; “Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past” (Isaiah 43:18)

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