I Am a Filipino

by Carlos P. Romulo

I am a Filipino–inheritor of a glorious past, hostage to the uncertain future. As such I must

prove equal to a two-fold task–the task of meeting my responsibility to the past, and the task of
performing my obligation to the future.

I sprung from a hardy race, child many generations removed of ancient Malayan pioneers.

Across the centuries the memory comes rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting out to
sea in ships that were as frail as their hearts were stout. Over the sea I see them come, borne upon
the billowing wave and the whistling wind, carried upon the mighty swell of hope–hope in the free
abundance of new land that was to be their home and their children’s forever.

This is the land they sought and found. Every inch of shore that their eyes first set upon, every
hill and mountain that beckoned to them with a green-and-purple invitation, every mile of rolling plain
that their view encompassed, every river and lake that promised a plentiful living and the fruitfulness
of commerce, is a hallowed spot to me.

By the strength of their hearts and hands, by every right of law, human and divine, this land
and all the appurtenances thereof–the black and fertile soil, the seas and lakes and rivers teeming
with fish, the forests with their inexhaustible wealth in wild life and timber, the mountains with their
bowels swollen with minerals–the whole of this rich and happy land has been, for centuries without
number, the land of my fathers. This land I received in trust from them and in trust will pass it to my
children, and so on until the world is no more.
I am a Filipino. In my blood runs the immortal seed of heroes–seed that flowered down the centuries
in deeds of courage and defiance. In my veins yet pulses the same hot blood that sent Lapulapu to
battle against the first invader of this land, that nerved Lakandula in the combat against the alien foe,
that drove Diego Silang and Dagohoy into rebellion against the foreign oppressor.
That seed is immortal. It is the self-same seed that flowered in the heart of Jose Rizal that morning
in Bagumbayan when a volley of shots put an end to all that was mortal of him and made his spirit
deathless forever, the same that flowered in the hearts of Bonifacio in Balintawak, of Gregorio del
Pilar at Tirad Pass, of Antonio Luna at Calumpit; that bloomed in flowers of frustration in the sad
heart of Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan, and yet burst fourth royally again in the proud heart of Manuel
L. Quezon when he stood at last on the threshold of ancient Malacañan Palace, in the symbolic act of
possession and racial vindication.
The seed I bear within me is an immortal seed. It is the mark of my manhood, the symbol
of dignity as a human being. Like the seeds that were once buried in the tomb of Tutankhamen many
thousand years ago, it shall grow and flower and bear fruit again. It is the insignia of my race, and my
generation is but a stage in the unending search of my people for freedom and happiness.
I am a Filipino, child of the marriage of the East and the West. The East, with its languor
and mysticism, its passivity and endurance, was my mother, and my sire was the West that came
thundering across the seas with the Cross and Sword and the Machine. I am of the East, an eager
participant in its spirit, and in its struggles for liberation from the imperialist yoke. But I also know that
the East must awake from its centuried sleep, shake off the lethargy that has bound his limbs, and
start moving where destiny awaits.
For I, too, am of the West, and the vigorous peoples of the West have destroyed forever the peace
and quiet that once were ours. I can no longer live, a being apart from those whose world now
trembles to the roar of bomb and cannon-shot. I cannot say of a matter of universal life-and-death, of
freedom and slavery for all mankind, that it concerns me not. For no man and no nation is an island,
but a part of the main, there is no longer any East and West–only individuals and nations making
those momentous choices which are the hinges upon which history resolves.
At the vanguard of progress in this part of the world I stand–a forlorn figure in the eyes of some, but
not one defeated and lost. For, through the thick, interlacing branches of habit and custom above me,
I have seen the light of the sun, and I know that it is good. I have seen the light
of justice and equality and freedom, my heart has been lifted by the vision of democracy, and I shall
not rest until my land and my people shall have been blessed by these, beyond the power of any man
or nation to subvert or destroy.
I am a Filipino, and this is my inheritance. What pledge shall I give that I may prove worthy of my
inheritance? I shall give the pledge that has come ringing down the corridors of the centuries, and it
shall be compounded of the joyous cries of my Malayan forebears when first they saw the contours of
this land loom before their eyes, of the battle cries that have resounded in every field of combat
from Mactan to Tirad Pass, of the voices of my people when they sing:

Land of the morning,

Child of the sun returning–

****

Ne’er shall invaders

Trample thy sacred shore.

Out of the lush green of these seven thousand isles, out of the heartstrings of sixteen million
people all vibrating to one song, I shall weave the mighty fabric of my pledge. Out of the songs of the
farmers at sunrise when they go to labor in the fields, out of the sweat of the hard-bitten pioneers in
Mal-lig and Koronadal, out of the silent endurance of stevedores at the piers and the ominous
grumbling of peasants in Pampanga, out of the first cries of babies newly born and the lullabies that
mothers sing, out of the crashing of gears and the whine of turbines in the factories, out of the crunch
of plough-shares upturning the earth, out of the limitless patience of teachers in the classrooms and
doctors in the clinics, out of the tramp of soldiers marching, I shall make the pattern of my pledge:
“I am a Filipino born to freedom, and I shall not rest until freedom shall have been added unto
my inheritance—for myself and my children and my children’s children—forever.”

Carlos Peña Romulo

  
BIOGRAPHY 

Carlos Peña Romulo once wrote that each of his careers “might have been lived in a different country
and a different age.” Soldier, journalist, educator, author, and diplomat, he was a definitive world
figure of the 20th century.

Romulo grew up in the town of Camiling in the province of Tarlac in northern Philippines. He was
born within the Spanish walled city of Intramuros, Manila, on January 14, 1898, at the twilight of one
colonial regime and the dawning of another. His father, Gregorio, fought in the revolution for
Philippine independence against Spain and, until surrender, America. The bitterness of the conflicts
left an impression on the young boy—marking “the beginnings of a rebel,” as he called it—and he
made a promise never to smile at an American soldier.

His level headed father eventually welcomed American school teachers who came to Tarlac to teach
English, however, becoming the first of the town’s elders to learn the language. Likewise, the young
Romulo’s hatred abated not only because of his father’s example but also because he became
friendly with an American sergeant.

His father’s dream of an independent and democratic Philippines lived on. One of the last to take his
oath of allegiance to America, the elder Romulo learned to accept the foreign power’s rulings except
—as the young Romulo recounts in his memoirs “in the manner of the flag.”
“The American law says we cannot display our flag in any public place,” Gregorio Romulo told his
family. “Well, my bedroom is not a public place.”

In World War II Romulo was aide-de-camp to General Douglas MacArthur. As a journalist he wrote a
series of articles, after a tour of the Far East, about Japanese imperialism, and predicted an attack on
the United States. For this he won the Pulitzer Prize in Journalism for Distinguished Correspondence,
and it was MacArthur himself who delivered to his friend the good news.

His skill at using words made Romulo the logical choice to become “the Voice of Freedom,” which
broadcasted news of the war effort to Filipinos and Americans alike. Often contrary to Japanese
propaganda, Romulo’s reports earned the ire of the enemy, who put a price on his head. But Romulo
kept broadcasting until the Fall of Bataan, and abandoned his post only after MacArthur’s strict orders
to leave. He flew first to Australia, eventually ending up in the United States in exile, leaving behind
his wife and four sons.

In 1924 Romulo married Virginia Llamas, a local beauty titlist. They met at a picnic and they married
not long after being crowned King and Queen of a Manila carnival. She once commented that she
was the type of wife who preferred to glow “faintly in her husband’s shadow,” to which one
acquaintance quipped, “this didn’t leave much room to glow in”—a jab at Romulo’s height.

Standing only 5’4” in his shoes, Romulo often made fun of his height. His book I Walked With Heroes
opens with the anecdote about being the newly elected president of the United Nations—the first
Asian to ever hold the post—and having to be “perched atop three thick New York City telephone
books” just to see and be seen by all the delegates below the podium. When MacArthur fulfilled his
promise to return to the Philippines, with Romulo at his side, it was reported that the American
general was wading in waist-deep water. One correspondent, Walter Winchell, immediately wired
back asking how Romulo could have waded in that depth without drowning.

He also used his height to his advantage. “The little fellow is generally underrated in the beginning,”
he once wrote. “Then he does something well, and people are surprised and impressed. In their
minds his achievement is magnified.”

Team members of the University of the Philippines debate team, with Professor Carlos P. Romulo
(center). From left: Pedro Camus, Teodoro Evangelista, Deogracias Puyat, and Jacinto C. Borja. The
photo was taken in San Francisco, California, April 18, 1928, and the caption reads: “Four students of
the University of the Philippines, under the leadership of Prof. Carlos P. Romulo of the College
Faculty, recently arrived in the United States on a tour of the world to debate the question of Filipino
independence. The round-the-world debate on the Philippine question is academic and has nothing
to do with politics.”
This kind of understanding served him well as he began a career as a diplomat at the United Nations .
Describing himself as the “barefoot boy of politics,” he had never before attended an international
conference and was new to diplomacy. To add to this challenge, he was representing a small nation
that had not yet achieved independence. (There already had been reports of Filipino delegates being
ignored at international meetings.)

Romulo—whose lifelong dream was to help build a body such as the United Nations—resolved to
make the Philippines the voice of all small nations. As a signatory of the charter forming the United
Nations in 1945, he spoke the famous line, “Let us make this floor the last battlefield” at the first
General Assembly. There was at first silence, but then he received a standing ovation—the only one
given to any speaker at the conference.

Romulo launched himself fully into the world of international diplomacy, standing his ground against
the big powers and committing himself to the causes of fledging nations. Dismissed by some, like
Andrei Vishinsky, chief of the Soviet delegation, as a “little man from a little country,” Romulo was
undeterred, fighting “like David, slinging pebbles of truth between the eyes of blustering Goliaths.”
President of the UN General Assembly Carlos P. Romulo introduces US President Harry S. Truman
to Deputy Foreign Minister Andrei Vishinsky of the USSR, October 24, 1949, during the cornerstone
laying ceremony of the UN headquarters in New York City.
Dubbed by his colleagues “Mr. United Nations,” he was elected president of the United Nations
General Assembly in 1949—the first Asian to hold the position—and served as president of UN
Security Council four times, in 1981, in 1980 and twice in 1957.

Despite all the triumphs, Romulo hit low points in his life. His eldest son Carlos, Jr., died in a plane
crash in 1957, and his beloved wife died in 1968, near the end of his terms as president of the
University of the Philippines, his alma mater, and, concurrently, Secretary of Education.

“I had to be outstanding,” he wrote, “to make the greatest effort to win, to prove I was capable not in
spite of having been born a Filipino but because I was a Filipino.”

Romulo served a total of eight Philippine presidents. His career as a public servant spanned more
than fifty years, including seventeen years as Secretary of Foreign Affairs and ten years as the
Philippines’ ambassador to the United States. As a soldier he was a brigadier general in the US
Army, receiving the Purple Heart and the Silver Star for his service during World War II, and a major
general in the Philippine Army. As a writer he authored sixteen books, two plays, and several poems.
In 1982 he was named a National Artist for Literature by the Philippine government. He was also
conferred the first Bayani ng Republika Award for his outstanding service to the Filipino nation and
the rank of Raja of the Order of Sikatuna, an honor usually reserved for heads of state.

By the time he died in 1985 he had served on the boards of a number of prestigious Philippine
corporations, such as San Miguel and Equitable Bank. “The General,” as he was widely known, had
received well over a hundred awards and decorations from other nations as well as over sixty
honorary degrees from universities all over the world. Extolled by Asia week as “A Man of His
Century,” he was the most admired Filipino in international diplomacy of the 20th century.

He was laid to rest in the state cemetery, alongside Philippine presidents and other great Filipinos,
survived by his second wife Beth Day, whom he married in 1978.
Carlos P. Romulo

AUTHOR CHARACTERISTICS:

“The American law says we cannot display our flag in any public place,” Gregorio Romulo told
his family. “Well, my bedroom is not a public place.”
He despised the American soldiers when he was young.
- He has a characteristic of patriotism (having love to our own country)
- He is proud of being a Filipino.

As a journalist he wrote a series of articles, after a tour of the Far East, about Japanese
imperialism, and predicted an attack on the United States. For this he won the Pulitzer Prize in
Journalism for Distinguished Correspondence.
He becomes a journalist, educator, author, and diplomat.
- He is intelligent.
- He is an outstanding journalist.
- He is determined and disciplined.
- He if gifted.

Describing himself as the “barefoot boy of politics,” he had never before attended an international
conference and was new to diplomacy. To add to this challenge, he was representing a small nation
that had not yet achieved independence. Romulo launched himself fully into the world of international
diplomacy, standing his ground against the big powers and committing himself to the causes of
fledging nations.
- He is a proud and a brave Filipino.
- He is an admirable Filipino.
- He is a good representation of a Filipino character must have.

Romulo served a total of eight Philippine presidents. His career as a public servant spanned more
than fifty years, including seventeen years as Secretary of Foreign Affairs and ten years as the
Philippines’ ambassador to the United States.
- He is loyal to our country.
- He is a great Role Model for all Filipino people.
- He is our “Bayani ng Republika ng Pilipinas “.
Learnings about the speech “I am a Filipino” by Carlos P. Romulo:

As a Filipino, we must know our history, the people who sacrifice their own life for the country
to have freedom from colonizers, the struggles our country had encountered, the sufferings
experienced before from the hand of the abusive colonizers.

Filipino blood has been surging through the veins of our people for years. An inheritance
worthy of praise and honor for the blood of Filipinos has been passed down through centuries of
battles, battles that are imbedded in the very foundation of becoming a Filipino. These battles, which
we won and lost, are the ones that mold us today and will be passed down to future generations.
Being a Filipino should be celebrated and embraced, for it is the inheritance for which our ancestors
fought and shed blood to hand it down to the future of Filipinos. The legacy of Filipino blood must be
safeguarded and treasured for this country and its people.

The essay "I'm a Filipino" has enlightened my thirst for knowledge about my roots and fully
grasped the inheritance that my ancestors fought for in order to provide us with a future with freedom
and peace. Being a Filipino is not only defined by the title; it goes far beyond that. It is the countless
battles, struggles, bloodshed, and lives that are sacrificed to gain freedom and peace that are
imbedded in the blood of Filipinos. This inheritance will forever live on and be known as the identity
that we possess. An identity that was once unknown, nameless, and powerless now marks the
people who live in this land.

Because of the essay, there are words that are engraved in my mind. We Filipinos have the
responsibility of protecting the inheritance that our ancestors gifted to us. It is our responsibility to
keep the peace and freedom that we were once deprived of. We should remember the past in order
to learn from it and make use of it to build a future worthy of living. The past shaped the very
structure of Filipinos; it was the past that liberated us and allowed us to enjoy the liberties we have
today.

I have realized that Filipinos are capable of amazing feats that can bring about great changes,
especially if they are united and have a great cause. We Filipinos have been gifted with the qualities
that our ancestors used in their struggle to fight for their rights and country. The essay has taught me
that the qualities we possess can lead to great changes for the future of Filipinos and our country. It
shows how we Filipinos are resilient, strong, and capable of fighting if we are trampled by our
enemies. These capabilities are endless and powerful when used for the greater good of the people
and the country.

It is sad to say that our new generation of Filipinos is becoming less aware of the culture and
history of being Filipino. A lot of teenagers today are more interested in other cultures, especially
western culture. Our sense of being Filipino is fading gradually, which saddens me, for this identity
was built with history and culture. Our history is full of bitterness and pain that our ancestors endured
just to free our motherland from perpetrators and foreigners. Remembering what was once important
is an important part of understanding who we are today. That is why, as Filipinos, we should
remember the past that made us who we are today.
 "I am Filipino," by Carlos P. Romulo, taught me that we should be proud of being Filipinos
because this identity was fought hard for and a lot was sacrificed. I've learned that we should not
forget who we are, for we Filipinos brought peace to our land and secured the future of the next
generation of Filipinos. We should be proud of ourselves and raise our flag so it will be known that we
are Filipino. The very Filipinos who fought wars and endured the pain of being deprived of liberty and
peace. The blood is coursing through our veins; we should be proud and say out loud that we are
Filipinos, worthy of all the good things life can offer.

Being a Filipino may have some characteristics that are not always admired, but there are
characteristics that made us unique to others, characteristics that made us fight our adversaries, and
characteristics that made us win and gain peace in our land. We should be proud of our identity and
how it was created. Remembering the past will keep us from forgetting the wars we fought for our
motherland. Many were sacrificed for the lives we have today, lives that we owe to the people who
sacrificed their lives. These inheritances will forever be imbedded in our veins and shall be embraced
and celebrated for all Filipinos, now and in the future.