The martial law class | Inquirer News

The martial law class

At the 1977 University of the Philippines (UP) Law Alumni Association homecoming, with the late President Ferdinand E. Marcos as guest speaker, Eduardo U. Escueta, president of Class 1972, told his fellow alumnus,

“Mr. President, the class that made martial law necessary…”

As members of the class stood up, Escueta said, “This is the first batch of lawyers under the New Society. We may be young but we promise you that out of this class will come judges (and) justices … and even a president … of the UP Law Alumni Association.”

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Of course, the class by itself was not really responsible for the declaration of martial law. But student unrest at the state university (and other schools) was among the many reasons given for the declaration of martial law.

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The class entered the College of Law in 1968. Starting with diverse ideological persuasions and socioeconomic backgrounds, they soon bonded, linked by shared experiences of being shouted at and humiliated by “terror” professors.

Scared stiff

A classmate fainting in fear during a midterm examination in political law was one of those moments.

Recitations were dreaded. A student had to stand for almost half of the class period for failing to answer satisfactorily the question, “What is the reason behind the law?”

Professor Irene R. Cortes asked students to draw from a box the numbers of an article and section of the 1935 Constitution that he/she had to recite from memory.

Some class members developed “super” vision, reading an open book two tables away.

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The class tried to avoid recitations in various ways. Once Domingo C. Palarca asked the women to engage a professor in a long conversation as they waited for their classroom to be opened. Palarca then asked the janitor, who had the key, to leave.

One Valentine’s Day, knowing that the recitation on obligations and contracts would be tough, the class gave professor Flerida Ruth P. Romero a cake and red roses, along with a poster of Linus, from the comic strip “Peanuts,” with the caption “We love you in solidum.”

Instead of recitations, the room was filled with singing. A photo session in front of the new Law Center capped the session.

The shortage of books was eased through the Lawyers’ Inn owned by the father of  Norberto J. Quisumbing Jr.  It had a library and, even better, a mimeographing machine. Each class member would digest a list of decisions, which would then be mimeographed and distributed to the rest.

Singing was a shared interest. At the first Law Fest, the class sang the Beatles song “Something,” arranged by Magdangal M. de Leon. The group Brothers-in-Law was born. Although  Jose Gonzales left for abroad and David P. Llorente had gone to the great beyond, Dangal, Oscar P. Palabyab,  Ronaldo T. Reyes and Irineo F. Llorin Jr. still regale UP law alumni with novelty songs in Filipino.

Despite the rigors of academic life, the flame of nationalism burned in some although the training to uphold the rule of law probably kept others from open advocacy of unconventional ideologies.

A female classmate got married “underground” and eventually quit school. It was only recently that the class learned of the exploits of former Integrated Bar of the Philippines national president Feliciano M. Bautista as an activist hunted by the military.

Storming the  ‘commune’

In the second semester of junior year, while everyone was grappling with the intricacies of negotiable instruments law, government forces entered the Diliman “commune.”

The Sampaguita and Kamia Residence Halls were barricaded. The raiders let the women go. No one knew what happened to a male activist, apparently a friend of one of the girls, who hid among suitcases under a bed.

Fraternity wars, a recurring event at the UP, failed to break friendships. A Sigma Rhoan would study with an Alphan, and an Upsilonian would share jokes with a Scintillian. At one time, the heads of both Alpha Phi Beta and Sigma Rho were in the same class.

Right from the start, Class 1972 was enterprising. Members raised funds to launch the Memorandum, as the Philippinensian folded up in 1968 when they graduated from pre-law.

The class went caroling at Christmas to the homes of legal personalities like then Court of Appeals Justice Cecilia Muñoz Palma. Her husband Rodolfo was one of the class professors and would warn anybody whose recitation was unsatisfactory, “I am not joking, I am going to flunk you,” wagging a forefinger.

The Memorandum, which Raul J. Palabrica edited, was the first yearbook ever published by a class in the College of Law.

On graduation, receiving their diplomas from president Salvador P. Lopez, the women wore embroidered jusi gowns and the men jusi barongs instead of the usual togas. The composition “Dangal, Patnubay sa Tagumpay” was sung for the first time by a graduating class. The College of Law adopted it recently  as its graduation hymn.

The guest speaker was then newly retired Supreme Court Associate

Justice Jose B.L. Reyes who told  the class “not everything that is permitted is honorable” and “do not equate the law, which is but a tool, for justice, which is the end.”

Members of the class were still reviewing for the bar examinations when on the morning of Sept. 23  someone went around in one dormitory telling residents to burn “subversive” books and materials.

The television in the reception area showed Marcos announcing he had declared martial law on Sept. 21. Press Secretary Francisco Tatad repeatedly read Proclamation No. 1081.

At the college, Justice Antonio Barredo’s talk on bar mechanics was canceled because professor Romero said a bomb was allegedly thrown early that morning at the justice’s residence.

The bar exams were rescheduled to mid-December. A helicopter hovered over Manuel L. Quezon University as law graduates took the bar.

Although the class was known as fun-loving, four of its members were among the top 10 examinees: Jesus M. Manalastas was second; Leo J. Palma, fourth; Palarca, sixth, and  Felino M. Ganal, tenth. All the class members passed.

For this, they credited their teachers who included Vicente Abad Santos,

Vicente Mendoza, Hugo Gutierrez and Jose Campos—all of whom would become justices of the Supreme Court. Those who remained in the academe were Bienvenido Ambion, Araceli Baviera, Gonzalo T. Santos, Maria Clara Campos, Myrna Feliciano,

Jose Laureta, Teodoro Taguinod, Pacifico Agabin.

In gratitude, the class put up the UP Law ’72 Foundation to raise funds for projects, such as the Award for Academic Excellence for every graduating class valedictorian.

As for Escueta’s prediction, he did become president of the UP Law Alumni Association. Many became legal luminaries, including class valedictorian Manalastas. Not a few lived by the UP student motto in the late 1960s and early 1970s–“Serve the People.” While many became unheralded dedicated public servants, others were put in the limelight.

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Class 1972 is this year’s Jubilarian honoree, along with with classes 1952, 1962, 1972 and 1987, at the UP General Alumni-Faculty Homecoming and Reunion on June 23, 3 p.m., at Ang Bahay ng Alumni, UP Diliman, Quezon City. Call the UPAA Secretariat at 9206871, 9206868, 9206875; e-mail [email protected], or SMS/call 0917-8372098. Visit https://www.upalumni.ph.

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