The Lost Ballerinas of Jaro Plaza
The expected removal of the three ballerina statues from Jaro Plaza has caused confusion and concern among the public. People are now asking: Where were they taken? Will they be brought back? Or are they gone for good? The last update I heard is that the base structure of the

By Noel Galon de Leon
By Noel Galon de Leon
The expected removal of the three ballerina statues from Jaro Plaza has caused confusion and concern among the public. People are now asking: Where were they taken? Will they be brought back? Or are they gone for good? The last update I heard is that the base structure of the statues was reportedly damaged, which is why they had to be removed from the fountain for repairs. But this issue goes beyond just taking down sculptures; it’s about how we value and protect our cultural heritage. Jaro Plaza is officially recognized as a heritage site under Republic Act No. 10555, enacted on May 15, 2013. That means any changes to the plaza should be made with respect for its historical and cultural significance. This moment serves as a reminder that we all have a role to play in preserving the stories, symbols, and places that shape our shared identity. If you’d like to know more, the full text of the law is available through the Supreme Court e-Library.
What does it truly mean to designate a place as a Cultural Heritage Tourism Zone? This is not merely a bureaucratic label or a set of decorative words to attract tourists. It is a concept rooted in deep historical, cultural, and political meaning. In the Philippine context, especially in cities like Iloilo such a designation reflects our urgent desire to resist forgetting, to preserve memory, and to safeguard identity in a society increasingly driven by rapid, and often careless, development. The existence of Cultural Heritage Tourism Zones speaks to our collective refusal to erase or marginalize culture in the name of modernization. It is a response to the persistent silencing of heritage in urban planning, and an assertion that our cultural spaces must be protected, interrogated, and, most importantly, engaged with critically.
This reflection emerged with greater urgency following public reactions to my July 3 column in Daily Guardian, where I suggested the removal of the three ballerina sculptures at Jaro Plaza. While the comment I received was unconstructive, it nevertheless pushed me to consider the issue at a deeper level, through the lens of cultural education, art criticism, and civic responsibility. This is not simply a question of aesthetics or individual preference; rather, it is an invitation to examine how we collectively imagine, shape, and protect public cultural spaces. The debate surrounding these sculptures is not just about the sculptures themselves, it is a symptom of a much larger concern about how we handle our heritage zones, particularly in Jaro Plaza, a site legally recognized as a Cultural Heritage Tourism Zone under Republic Act No. 10555.
This law, enacted in 2013, declares several key areas in Iloilo City—Jaro Cathedral, Molo Church, Fort San Pedro, the Iloilo Central Business District, and the Jaro, Molo, and Libertad Plazas as Cultural Heritage Tourism Zones. These sites are not only historically and architecturally significant; they are also spaces of collective memory and cultural labor. As such, they are afforded legal protection and must be developed with full respect to their heritage value. According to the Act, the objectives of a Cultural Heritage Tourism Zone include preservation, education, local economic development, and regulatory protection. This means preventing inappropriate construction, misuse, or neglect of these sites, while fostering public knowledge and community involvement in their stewardship.
What is deeply concerning, however, is the glaring absence of dialogue among those who claim to be cultural workers in Iloilo. Many remain silent in the face of controversial interventions in heritage spaces, such as the addition of structurally and symbolically incongruent elements like the ballerinas in Jaro Plaza. This silence betrays a lack of critical engagement with the very spaces they claim to protect. If cultural workers, artists, and heritage advocates do not speak up, who will hold the line against the slow erosion of cultural integrity in our public spaces? As artists, educators, and citizens, we must reclaim our right to participate meaningfully in decisions that shape our urban and cultural landscapes.
The Jaro Plaza is more than a public park, it is a spatial archive of collective memory, a historical site embedded with political, religious, and cultural narratives. To treat it casually, or to introduce elements that are disconnected from its heritage logic, is to betray the very essence of the space. We must understand that heritage conservation is not about fossilizing the past, but about engaging critically with the present to protect what matters. Beautification must never come at the expense of cultural coherence. Development must not become a justification for historical amnesia.
Republic Act No. 10555 is clear; the people of Iloilo have the legal and moral right to question developments in heritage zones. More than that, they have the responsibility to do so. We must assert the role of public dialogue, art education, and community consultation in shaping our cultural future. Artists and cultural workers must go beyond passive appreciation or institutional alignment, they must actively contribute to building a culture of critical discourse, civic engagement, and ethical development. In reclaiming our role in shaping public space, we also reclaim the integrity of our shared cultural identity.
Iloilo stands at a cultural crossroads. We can either allow our heritage to be aestheticized and diluted for convenience, or we can insist on development that is participatory, historically grounded, and critically informed. If we truly believe that our plazas, churches, and heritage structures are sacred parts of who we are, then we must treat them as such, not just in law, but in practice, speech, and action.
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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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