Every now and then, my siblings and I are asked to sing our signature song, our anthem for the past 50 years. It is an old song, but it is always new to me. There is always something to be passionate about and Because All Men Are Brothers never fails to hit the mark.
It was in the Sixties when we got into folk songs from records that our older sisters brought home. The Kingston Trio, Peter, Paul & Mary were our staples, with Jim at the guitar and the rest of us blending when we could. Three of us siblings even formed our own singing group modelled after Peter, Paul and Mary. We called ourselves — what else? Meiling, Jim and Lory.
When we first heard Because recorded by Peter, Paul & Mary, it resonated so much with what we believe in. A friend, Surf Reyes, who has no formal training in music, arranged the voices using numbers instead of notes to indicate each voice, and we’ve been signing it since then.
We sing it at all occasions. We can be happy, sad, angry, grieving, just reminiscing or having Noche Buena — the themes of brotherhood, freedom, breaking the chains of tyranny and slavery, never fail to move us and our audiences.
I come from a family of activists. During martial law, one brother wrote protest songs, several of us were journalists who pushed the limits of press censorship, one brother joined the underground movement, and the rest were outspoken critics of the dictatorship. The most famous activist in the family was our mother, who was detained by the dictator for five years and tried by a military court that sentenced her to death by firing squad. A few months after her sentencing, Marcos was overthrown by People Power and Mom was released. Some years later, she was pronounced a hero, her name engraved on the granite wall of remembrance at the Bantayog ng mga Bayani.
We sang our anthem defiantly through the oppression of martial law, and victoriously in 1986. And we continued to sing it in the face of threats to our newly restored democracy. It remains relevant these days, with the continuing challenges to our freedoms and our quest for peace: The Bangsamoro Basic Law is held hostage by an absentee congress; the communist insurgency continues to disturb the peace in the land; violent speech in the pre-election season will surely ignite into actual violence on the ground; the environment is crying out for relief from abuse; and all over the world, entire populations deprived of peace and human rights in their own countries, are searching for friendlier, more peaceful climes.
In February 1987, on the first anniversary of EDSA, I had the pleasure of meeting my idols, Peter Yarrow, Paul Stooky and Mary Travers, who were in Manila for the celebration. Over lunch, when I told Mary how much their song meant to my family, she told me that although Peter, Paul and Mary made the song popular, it was actually the work of two outstanding musicians born three centuries apart. The music is by Johann Sebastian Bach, born in 1613, and the lyrics are by Tom Glazer, a folk artist born in 1916. Like other folk artists in the 1940s, Glazer wrote the lyrics in support of the labor movement in the United States.
Here are Glazer’s fighting words.
Because all men are brothers wherever men may be
One Union shall unite us forever proud and free
No tyrant shall defeat us, no nation strike us down
All men who toil shall greet us the whole wide world around.
My brothers are all others forever hand in hand
Where chimes the bell of freedom there is my native land
My brother’s fears are my fears yellow white or brown
My brother’s tears are my tears the whole wide world around.
Let every voice be thunder, let every heart beat strong
Until all tyrants perish our work shall not be done
Let not our memories fail us the lost year shall be found
Let slavery’s chains be broken the whole wide world around.
A few years ago, working on the book Subversive Lives the amazing memoir written by the Quimpo family (not in the order of birth — Nathan, Norman, Susan, Ryan, Lilian, Caren, Emilie and Lys), I fully identified with their stories about their upbringing. Like us, they were ten children of a middle class family who had to share everything. For a time, we even lived in the same neighborhood close to Malacañang. I resonated with their family values and aspirations, their history of activism and defiance of martial law. But what I thought made us kindred spirits was this song that they too considered as their family anthem.
The Quimpos lost two brothers, Jan and Jun, during martial law, and several were detained and tortured. Jan and Jun share the wall of remembrance at the Bantayog with our mother and dozens of other heroes and martyrs of martial law.
Although we defeated the dictatorship in 1972, it is threatening to make a comeback. Consider the Marcos clones running for high office in 2016. So as the song goes, “Until all tyrants perish, our work shall not be done.”
Meanwhile, may we manage to preserve our freedoms and strengthen our democracy and may the new year bring us joy and peace of mind.