The ballerinas return to Jaro Plaza
By Noel Galon de Leon I have already said what needed to be said in my previous columns. Frankly, I am growing weary of repeating myself just to remind our local government why the ballerina statues have no rightful place in Jaro Plaza, a declared Heritage Zone. But this time, let us go beyond legalities

By Staff Writer
By Noel Galon de Leon
I have already said what needed to be said in my previous columns. Frankly, I am growing weary of repeating myself just to remind our local government why the ballerina statues have no rightful place in Jaro Plaza, a declared Heritage Zone. But this time, let us go beyond legalities and aesthetics. Let us dig deeper into the cultural and ethical implications of reintroducing these statues into a space that carries with its centuries of meaning and memory.
To be clear, I am not against ballerinas or the art of ballet itself. What I strongly oppose is the careless and contextless installation of these sculptures in a historically significant site, a move that blatantly disregards the very laws that were put in place to protect such spaces. Republic Act No. 10066, the National Cultural Heritage Act of 2009, exists precisely to prevent this kind of cultural insensitivity.
Section 48 of the law clearly prohibits any modification, construction, or demolition within a heritage zone without proper authorization from the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA), the National Historical Commission of the Philippines (NHCP), or the National Museum. Section 47 mandates that local government units must adhere to national guidelines concerning the protection of heritage zones. If no such approval was granted, then what we are witnessing is not just a lapse in judgment, it is a potential legal violation.
The issue here is not about taste or design preferences. It is about respecting the memory and identity embedded in public spaces. Jaro Plaza is more than just a park. It is a cultural landmark, a piece of living history that deserves careful stewardship. The Iloilo City Cultural Heritage Conservation Council (ICCHCC) has long emphasized the importance of preserving the architectural integrity, visual harmony, and historical relevance of all structures within heritage zones. These standards are not restrictive, they are protective. They are in place so that generations of Ilonggos can continue to walk through the plaza and feel a connection to their past.
The return of the ballerina statues is not just a misstep. It is an insult. It shows historical insensitivity, because placing structures that have no relationship to the site’s origin or evolution effectively erases or distorts the story of the place. It creates visual pollution. The aesthetic of the statues clashes with the architectural language of the plaza and undermines its historical ambiance. It is also a clear disrespect to cultural identity. Historians, urban planners, and local artists have spent years advocating for a cityscape that reflects Iloilo’s soul. Their efforts are invalidated when inappropriate and unvetted projects are imposed on public spaces. Most importantly, it results in the loss of heritage value. A heritage zone derives its significance from the cohesion of its parts. One misplaced or poorly conceived structure can weaken the integrity of the whole.
This is especially disheartening considering how far Iloilo City has come in establishing itself as a leader in heritage conservation. After nearly a decade of progress, this feels like a step backward. According to ICCHCC data, more than 70 percent of heritage structures in Jaro are considered historically significant. The plaza was officially declared a heritage zone in 2015, a recognition meant to protect it from precisely this kind of aesthetic distortion. And yet, here we are again, facing a situation where history is being sidelined in favor of a display that may be visually interesting to some, but culturally irrelevant to all.
The deeper question is this: what connection does ballet have with Jaro Plaza? None. The art of ballet, while beautiful and worthy of celebration in the right context, has no historical roots in this location. Its inclusion feels arbitrary. It does not honor local traditions or reflect the shared memory of the community. It does not belong.
This is not the first time Iloilo’s public spaces have suffered from poorly planned “redevelopment.” In 2021, there was public backlash when Plaza Libertad underwent modernization that led to the loss of century-old trees. That should have been a lesson. But have we truly learned anything? A 2023 survey conducted by a local heritage NGO found that 85 percent of Ilonggos preferred that historical sites maintain their original appearance. The message is clear: people want authenticity, not spectacle. They want meaningful preservation, not decorative disruptions.
What can you do if you believe, as I do, that this situation is unacceptable? First, file a complaint with the NCCA or NHCP. If you believe a law has been broken or that the project did not go through proper channels, you have the right and responsibility to speak up. Second, participate in public consultations. Demand transparency in every project that affects our cultural spaces. Third, support or join local heritage advocacy groups. Collective effort makes our voices stronger. Fourth, promote cultural education. Teach the younger generation that heritage is more than just old buildings, it is the story of who we are. And finally, hold the local government accountable. Policies mean nothing without enforcement, and public officials must be reminded that heritage protection is not optional.
Let us not forget what a public plaza truly is. It is not just an open area for decorative experimentation. It is a space of memory. It is a place where history lives in the everyday movement of people, in the shadows of old trees, in the silhouettes of churches and ancestral houses. When we tamper with that, when we inject elements that do not belong, we do more than just clutter the landscape. We distort the story.
We cannot afford to remain silent. Because when you erase a community’s past, you also erode its identity. And that, more than any poorly chosen statue, is the real tragedy.
***
Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and educator at University of the Philippines Visayas, where he teaches in both the Division of Professional Education and U.P. High School in Iloilo. He serves as an Executive Council Member of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts-National Committee on Literary Arts.
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