Walang himala!
In the climactic final sequence of Himala, Elsa confessed to her followers that there are no miracles, which resulted in her immediate assassination.1 This shows how confronting a myth is not a simple task; it is a process, an extensive and, at times, a hostile endeavor. We can understand Elsa’s tragic death as an allegorical sign to the tortures and extrajudicial killings during the Marcos regime, as well as the mysterious disappearance of Primitivo Mijares in the late 1970s. What these bodies have in common is they provide alternative thinking by returning the realities of the myth back into the arena of discourse, however perilous it is. This paper is devoted to expound on this. Specifically, how the bodies of Elsa and Ferdinand/Imelda operate in the making of myths and in understanding the accumulation, consolidation, and circulation of power. Accordingly, separate sections are dedicated in discussing how perceivers are subjected into imagining, both within the diegesis of Himala and during the martial law period in the Philippines. All of these lie in the common thread of signs and meanings.
Semiotics is the study of signs—how meanings are systematically created, communicated, and interpreted. Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure, one of semiotics’ pioneers, viewed language as a vehicle of signs that communicate meanings, and since language is our primary medium for communication, he assumed that it stands as a model for studying the meaning-making systems of other media of communication.2 His structuring of a sign is a useful basis in understanding other semiotics.
According to Saussure, the sign consists of two components: the signifier, or what we perceive through our senses; and the signified, or the concept we associate from that perception. For the sign dog, the signifier is the perceivable letters d-o-g typed in this paper or the sound when these letters are read as a whole, either of which conjures up a mental concept of a four-legged animal—the signified. The relationship of the two components is arbitrary because there is no actual cord connecting the abstract letters or the sound and the domestic animal except a linguistic convention. This type of association is what constitutes a symbol—one of the three signs of Peirce.
While the provenance of Saussure’s semiotics is in language, Peirce’s sign system focuses more on nonverbal forms of communication. The sign theory of American philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce is composed of a representamen (also known as sign-vehicle), an object, and an interpretant.3 To make things easier, the first two are comparable to Saussure’s signifier and signified, respectively, whose features are translated by the interpretant (not interpreter)—the third and most innovative component of Peirce’s semiotics—that bridges the meaningful relationship of the first two. These features can either be by virtue of apparent qualities, existential facts, or cultural conventions which are the demarcations for Peirce’s trichotomy of signs.4
A sign is iconic when the signifier carries only the outward qualities of the signified. A painting of a dog is an iconic sign of an actual dog since the image on the canvas only renders an approximation of the dog’s bodily qualities in the physical world.
A sign is indexical when the relationship between the signifier and the signified is bound by existential facts; the former has either a direct relational or causal connection with the latter, and vice versa. Unlike the painting, a photo of a dog is an indexical sign of an actual dog because what is transferred in the photo exists contiguously with the photographed dog.
A sign is symbolic when the relationship is arbitrary, or when the signifier and the signified are neither related by their intrinsic qualities nor by existential facts, but their relationship is meaningful by virtue of contexts or conventions. A dog (lapdog, tuta) is a symbolic sign for a politician who is subservient to another entity, or in another context, a symbol for loyalty. The dog’s lack of direct connection to the person or to the concept makes the meaning flexible, and therefore symbolic.
These concepts of semiotics are my framework in deconstructing the signs in Ishmael Bernal’s Himala and from the spectacles of the Marcos couple.
Tibo had access to the palace and to the First Family on a daily basis. That was how important and privileged Primitivo “Tibo” Mijares was before his unsolved disappearance in the late 1970s.5 Once the most trusted propagandist of the Marcoses ironically turned to write The Conjugal Dictatorship of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos, exposing the scandalous details surrounding the admired First Couple.6 More than a fodder for gossip, and sensational as it was, the first-hand accounts were helpful to those who were fighting the dictatorship. Worth noting here is the title of the book that stresses the distinct quality of the totalitarian government: it was conjugal. This is a significant detail for it foregrounds the relationship between Ferdinand and Imelda whose history was basic to the triumph of the former as the tenth president of the Philippines.
From Ferdinand’s admiration for Imelda from seeing her photographs in newspapers, the young congressman did not hesitate to pursue her when he finally met her in person.7 Immediately after eleven days of what was referred to as “whirlwind courtship,” the two exchanged their vows.8 It may not be a marriage of convenience in the strict sense of tradition but their matrimony, nonetheless, was motivated by the groom’s grand ambitions. Journalist Conrado de Quiros said in the documentary Imelda by Ramona S. Diaz that “[Ferdinand] Marcos rarely did anything without political calculation.”9 According to another documentary, Batas Militar [Martial Law], the union of the son of the North and the muse of the South accumulated massive favors from their respective regions that ultimately set in motion the realization of his future as president and hers as the First Lady.10 Indeed, even marriage is a decision innate with politics.
The Marcos romance is likened to a teleserye whose individual backstories seemed taken out from a script for a premiere television melodrama. The outstanding law bachelor from Ilocos Norte, on one hand, was found guilty for the murder of his father’s political rival in 1939 where he excellently defended himself while studying for the bar examinations that he later top notched at.11 His destined partner’s life, on the other hand, is likened to a Cinderella story. Raised in Leyte, the “Rose of Tacloban” lived in relative poverty before moving with a rich relative in Manila where she transitioned from one job to another until she was crowned “Muse of Manila”—a previously non-existent title awarded to her only as consuelo de bobo—in 1953, subsequently catching the attention of Ferdinand.12
The narrative of Ferdinand and Imelda’s past leading up to their conjugal life compellingly flowed like a soap opera in which each plot point accounted for the focal character’s main goal of claiming the coveted Malacañang. Ferdinand here is identified as the initial focal character because it was basically his authoritarian wishfulness that required the presence of the other equally significant character into the legacy of this narrative. Although it is rooted from the ambition of one man, the role of Imelda in the realization and endurance of this ambition is key to the prominence of its source, and in my later discussion, of them both.
Given Ferdinand’s veteran experience, his eloquence, and legal expertise, it is not hard to imagine Ferdinand singlehandedly achieving his goal, although it could have been like any other masculine totalitarian government. What sets the Marcosian rule extraordinary is because the presence of Imelda did not only satisfy the banality of matrimonial conventions, but her charm ideally complemented the assertive nationalist rhetoric of the strongman. This goes to say that the Marcos regime may be a one man’s aspiration but its twenty-one “golden” years were perpetuated by a matrimonial alliance, a complementing union of lakas and ganda.13 This is what necessitates to foreground the romance of Ferdinand and Imelda; their past was an effective mechanism for the projection of their bodies as spectacles which, in turn, installed and perpetuated themselves in the highest seat in the country.
Ferdinand and Imelda liked to think of themselves as the father and mother of the extended Filipino family to a point of identifying themselves with the local legend, Si Malakas at Si Maganda, that introduces the story of the first Filipinos.14 With this obsessive identification, their outward appearance became a performative spectacle to instill in the Filipino psyche that they are strong and beautiful.
The lakas of Ferdinand was concocted from his youthful feats and intrinsic qualities—he was described as physically and sexually active in his college days; his early display of talents at a young age did not disappoint during the 1939 bar examinations concurrent with the Nandalusan case; and with his deep-toned voice, solemn articulation, and animated gesticulations, he was considered one of the best orators of his time.15 On the other hand, the ganda of Imelda was not exclusively provided by her physical features; her beauty is a holistic appeal, a presence of charm “presented as both a source and an object of desire.”16 This natural charisma is harnessed by her tied-up buns that made her look taller and her formal gowns and uncompromised ternos that accentuated her slim physique.
Imelda was a significant asset to the presidential campaign of her husband who referred to her as his “secret weapon.”17 Her alluring charm was potent in mystifying the crowd and compelling them “to stop thinking and start looking.”18 The femininity of Imelda served as a lubricant not to soften the assertive rhetoric of Ferdinand but to lessen the friction between him and the penetrating end of his masculine ego by turning the voting crowd into spectators of their political theatricality. Throughout their presidential tenure, this strategy was sustained and further ingrained in the formulation of the couple’s system of ideals dictated in rebuilding the nation.
Although they had different ethos, it was the attributes of one that filled the gaps of the other. Imelda often recalled in interviews how Ferdinand rationalized his assertiveness in proposing her a marriage on their first meeting. The anecdote goes that when Ferdinand was still young, he already had a sketch of the woman that he was destined to; she said that he had encountered many women in his life but no one came close to his ideal woman until he met her.19 Whether that is true or not, Ferdinand (through Imelda’s storytelling) made it seem that their first contact was actually drawn by fate, and regardless of the intentions, it was a coup that ultimately benefited them both.