Why Olalias Are Not Considered Heroes by Bantayog Foundation

If the heroism of the Olalias and other laborers could not be doubted, then why are they not remembered as heroes by the Bantayog ng mga Bayani Foundation?

LABOR   By Chit Estella  |  Vera Files | 

On the long black granite wall on the grounds of the Bantayog ng mga Bayani are 185 names of heroes and martyrs who fought the Marcos dictatorship. Some are well-known to the public; many are not. But all are bound by the fact that they had committed a great part of their lives to oppOsing authoritarianism.

But surprisingly absent from the list are those whose names have always been synonymous with the anti-dictatorship movement: labor leaders Felixberto Olalia and his son, Rolando.

“Mukhang napakatagal na ng panahong dapat ay naisali sila sa hanay ng mga tunay na bayani (It seems it is taking such a long time for their names to be included in the ranks of true heroes),” said Elmer Labog, chair of the Kilusang Mayo Uno, the labor alliance in which both Olalias served as leaders.

Because of this, the leftist labor organization is starting to feel that the neglect has been deliberate. This has puzzled Labog and many others considering the contributions made by the labor movement in the country’s long struggle for freedom and democracy, especially during martial law.

Just three years after the declaration of military rule in 1972, it was the labor sector that gave the impetus for bigger and more frequent protest actions. A three-day strike was held at La Tondeña at a time when there was an absolute ban on protest actions.

“It was the first ever strike under martial rule,” said Labog of the work stoppage that opened the floodgates for similar protest actions that covered not just individual factories but entire zones. Taken together, the strikes numbered about 700 and crippled the dictatorship.

In the street rallies held at that time, organized labor—along with students and farmers—provided the warm bodies that confronted the water cannons, truncheons and bullets which the dictatorship used to clamp down on protests.

It would take years after the La Tondeña strike of 1975 before business and other wealthier sectors of Philippine society would openly join the protest movement. They would do so in 1983 with the assassination of former senator Benigno Aquino Jr.

In those protests, the name of Felixberto Olalia figured prominently. Slight in appearance, he was nevertheless a charismatic leader and a fiery speaker. More importantly, he was a relentless organizer. In the 1950s, he was imprisoned on charges of subversion. He would be thrown in jail again in 1972 and in 1982 for rebellion. Between jail terms, he would form alliances of labor unions and federations. Under house arrest, Olalia died at the age of 80.

His son Rolando was a lawyer. “But he turned his back on the lucrative opportunity to serve the rich corporations,” said Labog.

Like his father, Olalia joined the KMU and became its chair. Unlike his father, he survived martial law. He would instead meet his death during the restored democracy under Aquino.

In one of the most violent actions taken against the legal left, Rolando—along with his driver—was found murdered, his body bearing the signs of a painful death in the hands of his tormentors. His murderers were never found.

Rolando would not be the last unionist to be killed, however. Labog estimated that about 1,000 laborers have been slain, 38 of them under the administration of President Gloria Arroyo.

If the heroism of the Olalias and other laborers could not be doubted, then why are they not remembered as heroes?

The Wall of Remembrance, in fact, carries names of persons from a wide range of the political spectrum, from traditional politicians to liberal academicians, activist students and the religious sector.