Not everyone is ready for Graciano

By Noel Galon de Leon

This Christmas, I found myself completely absorbed in a book I had personally purchased directly from its author, Emmanuel Lerona. “Graciano’s Dirty Fingers” is a bold confrontation of the falsehoods and misleading narratives long attached to Graciano Lopez Jaena, one of the most important Ilonggo heroes whose legacy has too often been simplified or distorted.

When I heard that Emman was releasing a book about Graciano, I immediately pre-registered to secure a copy. What I did not expect was a personal encounter before Christmas. I had just arrived in Iloilo when we ran into each other at Atria Park; by chance, he had a copy of the book with him, so I bought it on the spot—history meeting the present by sheer accident.

Emman explained that the book was meticulously constructed from letters, essays, and other documents related to Graciano, enriched by extensive online research, AI-assisted investigations, correspondence with the hero’s relatives, and even personal visits to Spain. This breadth of research reminds us how heavy the responsibility is for anyone who handles history.

What fascinated me most was Lerona’s process of gathering data and shaping the book. Two things stood out clearly: first, the conceptual spark came from Ret. Associate Justice Francis Jardeleza, who shared the idea with Emman; and second, although we do not spend much time together, I have long admired Emman’s dedication to cultural work. His energy and commitment to cultural production—whether in film, literature, or academic spaces—are rare and deeply sustaining, especially during his years teaching full-time at UP Visayas.

Through this book, Emman demonstrates that the internet is not the enemy but an ally of the researcher. There is an abundance of online material that can generate ideas and sustain serious inquiry, while AI and digital tools can help clarify directions and connections. In Emman’s case, his research on Graciano began with careful examination of digital archives—proof that technology and historical intelligence can work hand in hand.

Yet the book also insists that true scholarship demands immersion. Lerona did not stop at online research; he reached out to Graciano’s relatives and personally traveled to Spain. This balance between digital research and firsthand experience gives the work its intellectual credibility and ethical weight.

Graciano is widely known as the founder and first editor of La Solidaridad, the reformist newspaper that helped inspire the Philippine Revolution of 1898. But beyond this, Lerona’s book offers fresh and compelling insights into the personal and political dimensions of his life, allowing us to see the man not as an untouchable monument but as a thinking, struggling, and deeply committed individual.

The book is divided into three main parts. The first examines Lopez Jaena’s life in the Philippines, particularly in Iloilo—his upbringing, formative experiences, and the social conditions that shaped his consciousness. Here, the hero becomes relatable: a person who breathed, thought, and dreamed in the very land we inhabit today.

The second part follows his travels and intellectual work in Spain, capturing the difficulties and triumphs of advocating for Philippine reforms in a foreign land. Lerona vividly portrays his courage, intellect, and resilience—the strength of a young Filipino determined to fight for justice from across the seas.

The third part is perhaps the most crucial: it confronts the long-standing rumor that Graciano abandoned the nationalist cause before his death. Through evidence and careful analysis, Emman dismantles this false accusation, restoring the honor of a man whose life was devoted to the nation’s struggle.

Reading about Graciano’s life is both inspiring and melancholic. His death in Spain, his burial on foreign soil, and the fact that his remains were never returned to the Philippines add a tragic weight to his story. Yet through this book, his narrative is reclaimed—not as a defeat by history, but as a victim of collective forgetting.

Thanks to this book, we can recognize Graciano Lopez Jaena not only as an Ilonggo or a Filipino, but as a continuing presence in our social and intellectual life. Lerona makes the hero tangible, reminding us that the figures we revere are human beings, with flesh and blood, strengths and weaknesses, and ideals that remain relevant today.

Graciano’s Dirty Finger is a vital contribution to our understanding of national heroes. It urges us to read history critically while honoring those who shaped it. It is not simply a biography, but an ethical act, a stance against historical distortion and collective forgetting.

In a time when historical truth is constantly threatened by misinformation and revisionism, Emman’s book serves as a reminder of our responsibility to memory. It challenges us to look deeper, question inherited narratives, and protect the integrity of our past.

Graciano Lopez Jaena lives in our hearts. He lives not only on the pages of history, but in our consciousness and ongoing struggles. Lerona’s book ensures that this legacy is not merely remembered but felt, lived, and critically engaged. Graciano’s Dirty Finger is a bridge between past and present, between the hero and the reader. It shows that history is not distant or abstract—it is alive, breathing, and constantly shaping us.

This Christmas gift from Emman reminds me that heroes never truly die. They live in the stories we continue to tell, in the knowledge we preserve, and in the hearts ready to learn from their lives. Graciano Lopez Jaena lives in our hearts, and thanks to this book, his legacy is clearer, deeper, and more urgently alive than ever.