A Flag to Deepen Our Story

The recent rediscovery of a revolutionary flag in Antique, claimed to have been first raised by General Leandro Fullon’s forces on September 21, 1898, has sent a ripple of excitement and debate across the Visayas. The immediate narrative is an alluring one: if verified, this ceremony in Libertad, Antique, would predate the celebrated November 17, 1898, flag-raising in Santa Barbara, Iloilo, long recognized as the first in the region. The temptation is to frame this as a historical contest, a rivalry between provinces for a coveted spot in the national chronicle.

But to view this discovery through the narrow lens of a local dispute is to miss its profound national significance. While the pride of Antiqueños is both justified and palpable, the true value of this fragile textile artifact lies not in supplanting one historical fact with another, but in challenging the very geography of our collective memory. It forces us to look beyond the capital and recognize the Philippine Revolution for what it truly was: a widespread, archipelago-wide struggle for freedom.

For too long, the popular narrative of the revolution has been overwhelmingly Luzon-centric. The events in Cavite, Bulacan, and Manila are rightly lionized, but they often overshadow the concurrent and equally fervent revolutionary movements that erupted across the islands. The Antique flag, should its story hold true, is a powerful material evidence against this monolithic view. It serves as a testament that the cry for independence was not a singular echo from the north, but a chorus rising from many shores.

General Fullon’s expedition was not a rogue mission; it was an extension of General Emilio Aguinaldo’s vision for a liberated archipelago. The arrival of his forces in Inyawan (now Libertad) and the subsequent raising of the flag was a declaration that Panay was an integral front in this national war. It illustrates a crucial truth: the revolution was not merely dictated from a central command but was actively embraced and advanced by Visayans on their own soil. This discovery helps decentralize our understanding, painting a picture of a revolution that was as dynamic and diverse as the islands that comprise our nation.

This is why the perspective offered by historians like Edbert Cabrillos is so vital. They wisely urge that this finding should be seen as a way to “enrich, not replace” our history. The Santa Barbara event was monumental as it marked the formal inauguration of the Revolutionary Government of the Visayas, a political milestone of immense importance. The Libertad flag-raising, in contrast, represents an earlier military landing and assertion of revolutionary presence.

They are not mutually exclusive claims to the same honor. Rather, they are two distinct, interlocking chapters in the single, heroic story of Panay’s liberation. One is a story of arrival and proclamation; the other, of political consolidation. The Antique flag doesn’t erase Santa Barbara’s chapter; it writes a new prequel. It reminds us that history is not a static list of “firsts” but a complex, layered timeline of interconnected events.

The path to validating the flag’s authenticity through the National Historical Commission of the Philippines will and should be rigorous. It demands more than oral history and evocative photographs; it requires meticulous documentation and scientific analysis. This process must be supported not in the spirit of competition, but in the spirit of completion.

Ultimately, the Antique flag is more than a potential provincial trophy. It is a national treasure that offers a more inclusive and accurate telling of our origins. It reinforces that our nation was forged not in a single crucible, but in many fires across many islands, by countless Filipinos who answered the call to freedom.

Authenticating this artifact is not like crowning a new winner in a historical pageant; it is giving every Filipino a richer, fuller, and truer story of how our republic was born.