Rizal’s legacy and the crisis of comprehension

Today the nation observes Rizal Day, marking the martyrdom of the pride of the Malay race and Philippine hero Jose Rizal 129 years ago. He was executed by firing squad after a trial before a Spanish military court, which found him guilty of sedition (other accounts also list rebellion and conspiracy). In other words, his tragic fate was sealed by an injustice stamped as law.

In school, his works remain required reading, with his famous novels “Noli Me Tangere” and “El Filibusterismo” assigned in high school, and the socio-political essay “Sobre la indolencia de los filipinos” (On the Indolence of the Filipinos) in college.

The latter was serialized in six issues of La Solidaridad from July to September 1890. In it, Rizal points out that what our colonizers simplified as “indolence” was often rational behavior under oppressive conditions: when effort is not rewarded, when property and harvest are taken, when people are overtaxed or forced into labor, and when punishment is arbitrary and incentives are distorted, these kill enterprise and weaken people’s initiative.

Such writings by Rizal had a profound impact on my understanding of Philippine society and the world, and they still guide my analysis of the social and political issues we face today. I think Rizal would be pleased to know that his works remain required reading in school, yet if he were alive he would also worry about the country’s reading comprehension and learning poverty.

In a two-page country brief (June 2022), the World Bank and the UNESCO Institute for Statistics estimate learning poverty at 91% and note that large-scale assessments indicate that about 90% of learners do not achieve the minimum proficiency level in reading at the end of primary school. According to the PISA 2022 cycle report, released in late 2023 or early 2024, about 24% of students in the Philippines attained Level 2 or higher in reading, compared with the OECD average of 74%. PISA is the Programme for International Student Assessment, and OECD is the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development.

Almost no students scored at Level 5 or higher in reading, a level where students can “comprehend lengthy texts, deal with concepts that are abstract or counterintuitive, and establish distinctions between fact and opinion, based on implicit cues pertaining to the content or source of the information.” What can Rizal’s great works really do if the youth who read them barely grasp the meaning and the nuance, right?

The country’s susceptibility to disinformation and organized manipulation, especially around elections, is well documented in several studies. Our dismal reading and critical evaluation skills likely contribute to that vulnerability. The OECD explicitly ties “advanced reading skills” to the ability to triangulate and validate viewpoints, and to distinguish fact from opinion and detect biased or false information. A disinformation ecosystem, including influence operations linked to geopolitical interests in the region, can exploit such vulnerability.

If we are to honor Rizal’s legacy, let it be by strengthening our young people’s reading comprehension and learning skills. Based on the bicameral conference committee report, the 2026 national budget for education is ?1.38 trillion, or 4.5% of the GDP, reportedly meeting the UNESCO benchmark for education spending for the first time.

This is an encouraging development. But a bigger budget does not automatically mean better reading, better teaching, or better outcomes. Two things can quietly weaken even a well-intended budget: leaks (corruption) and absorptive capacity, meaning whether agencies and schools can actually use the money well and on time.