I must confess that I have a love-hate relationship with the city of Manila. Every week, I venture out and traverse the roads and highways on crowded, poorly ventilated public utility vehicles to attend my classes. Each day, I see the same dull, dirty, and uninspiring sights all around the city — streets littered with heaps of rubbish, sidewalks swallowed up by vehicular traffic, and the architectural vestiges of our past fading into near ruin.
Does our capital city deserve this kind of treatment from its own citizens? I often rage against the unbearable heat and pollution of this vast metropolis and sigh in utter disappointment at the sight of its rivers and natural wonders, strewn with garbage and human refuse. But maybe this is just me, expressing my disappointment at what has become of our once-grand capital, the city that was once the crown jewel of our young nation.
It’s heartbreaking to see the scars of its past whenever I walk its storied streets and boulevards. Manila has witnessed so many crucial turning points in our country’s history, yet it has been reduced to an amalgamation of poorly planned districts with little to no regard for the comfort and well-being of its residents — roads choked with all manner of vehicles belching out suffocating clouds of smoke; rivers and estuaries, which should bring life and mitigate the summer heat, turned into highways of trash and excrement; and Manila Bay, as iconic as the sunsets that grace its shores, left to decay, its waters now being reclaimed for future construction projects.
I am saddened by its slow and steady decline into dilapidation. I feel this broad range of emotions because I truly care. Deep in my heart, I have longed to see Manila treated with the respect and dignity it not only deserves but requires. Over the course of time, Manila has woven itself into the collective tapestry of our shared history as a diverse people.
I see old photographs and paintings of the former city through the myriad of history-focused social media accounts I follow. They show me a Manila that was not only alive and thriving but full of hope and aspiration for the future — only for its dreams to be quashed by the ruinous destruction of war. World War II laid waste to so much of the cultural treasures our people had labored for centuries to build. By the end of the war, Manila was second only to Warsaw as the most destroyed city in the world. The difference? Warsaw rebuilt its prewar city, brick by brick. Ours was simply swept away.
The Intramuros’ Muralla Street. (Photo by Kristian Pras Asadon/Simpol.ph)
Historical buildings, reduced to smoldering ruins, were demolished to make way for new urban developments. Intramuros — the heart of Manila, where everything began for this metropolis — is barely even an authentic restoration of its former glory. The old stone walls, destroyed during the brutal Battle of Manila in 1945, are now nothing more than concrete substitutes. That’s why you’ll see parts of them chipped away, sometimes even whole chunks missing after decades of disrepair.
The numerous churches, colonial houses, and historic government buildings that once dotted the walled city have been replaced by either cheap imitations or modern structures that fail to complement and elevate their historic surroundings. There seems to be little regard for historical accuracy — improper materials are used, and the vision to restore this iconic citadel remains incomplete.
I sit here in my room, which itself has become a veritable shrine to my love for history, wishing — hoping against all hope — that maybe one day things might change for the better. Maybe, somewhere down the line, our country will realize its true potential and turn things around. Perhaps a series of well-devised and carefully planned urban development projects could revive the soul of this once-magnificent city, the true pearl of the Orient.
Maybe I’ll be fortunate enough to witness that transformation, or maybe it will be the succeeding generations of the distant future who will see that revival and bask in its wonder. Or maybe I’m just a hopeless dreamer, yearning for a world that no longer exists—a world now confined to books, photos, and paintings.
The Manila City’s Post Office building. (Photo by Kristian Pras Asadon/Simpol.ph.)
Yet I continue to dream. This city — home to poets, artists, revolutionaries, and the site of pivotal moments in our nation’s history — deserves better. Manila deserves to be a city worthy of its title as the capital, the beating heart of our nation’s cultural and political life.
I know I’m not alone in this. Somewhere out there, I know there are like-minded people who share my vision and my dream of what Manila once was — and what it could still become.
***
Editor’s Note: The author of this article is also a columnist for Simpol.ph.
