Why did Rizal stand by his beliefs—what does his choice, over 150 years after his execution, ask us?

As the year comes to an end, December 30th for many Filipinos is just another red date on the calendar. Paid leave, sleeping in, watching their favorite dramas—that’s all there is to it. But behind this date stands a man who walked boldly in front of Spanish bullets, José Rizal.

Why did he choose death? More precisely, why did he accept it when he could have avoided it? This question is not merely a curiosity about history. It is a deeper inquiry directed at today’s Filipinos.

The man who refused a hand of salvation

A few months before 1896, Rizal was exiled to Dapitan. This is important. He had an escape route. Katipunan had secretly offered to rescue him. Andres Bonifacio himself begged to lead the revolution.

But Rizal refused.

Understanding his reasons is to understand the man himself. He was thinking calmly. Resources were scarce. His compatriots were not yet ready. If he had launched a violent uprising, bloodshed would have been unavoidable, and he believed it was not necessarily required.

Rizal and Katipunan both desired independence for the Philippines, but their paths diverged. One sought change through reform, the other aimed for separation through revolution. Neither was wrong. They simply had different strategies.

That’s why Rizal’s declaration signed on December 15, 1896, is complex. He openly condemned the uprising. “This uprising dishonors us Filipinos and damages our cause. I dislike its criminal methods, deny any involvement, and sincerely sympathize with those who were deceived into participating,” he wrote.

While leaving behind works that inspired the revolution, he denied them. This contradiction is what truly defines Rizal’s power.

How reformers within the system became symbols of revolution

Historian Renato Constantino once pointed out that Rizal’s propaganda was not about assimilating Filipinos into Spain, but rather the opposite. The pressure of Spanishization transformed into a clear awakening of national consciousness.

Rizal believed for many years that assimilation with Spain was possible and desirable. He admired European art, culture, and liberal ideas. But repeated racism and injustice eroded that belief.

In a letter to Blumentritt in 1887, he finally admitted, “Filipinos longed for Spanishization, and desiring it was a mistake.”

Constantino called him a “limited Filipino.” He feared revolution but loved his homeland and fought for national unity—through illustrative methods.

But here’s the key. Rizal may have been “conscious without movement.” Yet, that consciousness turned into action through the revolution. As a social critic and an exposer of oppression, his words became seeds that blossomed into a tradition of separatist movements.

What the execution changed—and what it did not

In 1896, when Spain fired guns in Manila, it was not just José Rizal who fell. His execution amplified the Filipino desire for separation, unified the fragmented movement, and gave moral legitimacy to the revolution.

But there is a question worth asking: Could the uprising have happened without Rizal? Perhaps it would have been more fragmented, inconsistent, and less grounded. But it would have happened. Because the times demanded it.

Historian Ambeth Ocampo describes Rizal’s moment this way: before his execution, his pulse was normal. “A quiet, peaceful man deliberately and calmly faced death for his beliefs.”

Ocampo calls Rizal a “conscious hero.” Because he was deliberate about his decision and fully aware of its consequences.

In a letter from 1882, Rizal himself wrote: “Furthermore, I want to show those who deny that we have patriotism. We know how to die for duty, for conviction. If we die for loved ones and homeland, what is death?”

The romanticized Rizal, the human Rizal

Today, Rizal is often remembered as a saint-like hero supported by America. His legacy has been shaped partly by stories under American colonial rule.

Historian Theodore Friend points out: Aguinaldo was “too radical,” Bonifacio was “too revolutionary,” Mabinog was “too stubborn.” That’s why Rizal was chosen. Constantino more bluntly said, “A hero who does not oppose American colonial policies was needed.”

But a national hero is not an official constitutional title. Rizal’s legacy exists on its own.

This is important. By understanding Rizal as a human being rather than sanctifying him, we can ask better questions. Which parts of his example are still relevant today? Which parts are outdated?

Constantino states: “Rizal’s personal goal was always aligned with what he believed to be the best interests of the country.” His intention to “make Rizal outdated” was that as long as corruption and injustice persist, Rizal’s example remains relevant.

If those ideals were truly realized, his legacy would have fulfilled its role, and symbols inspiring conscience would no longer be necessary.

But the country is clearly far from that state.

Questions for the modern era

On December 30th, Mabinog Day, Filipinos should not only remember how Rizal died but should also reconsider why he did not save himself.

Just as Rizal refused to betray his beliefs, modern Filipinos are called to stand firm against the temptations and pressures of corruption and injustice.

In the end, dying is not a prescription for patriotism. But staying true to one’s beliefs, then and now, remains the most difficult and most necessary act.