The Review volume 2 (Humanities Edition):2002

A POSTCOLONIAL VIEW OF SHAKESPEARE’S SHREW: A DIRECTOR’S NARRATIVE

RICARDO G. ABAD Fine Arts Program Ateneo de Manila University Philippines

Abstract A Filipino Ateneo production in January 2002 of –Ang Pagpapaamo sa Maldita in Filipino translation -- becomes the site to reflect on Philippine-American relations during the early U.S. colonial period in the Philippines. In the production, Petruchio is an American military officer and Katherina is the daughter of a wealthy merchant in a provincial town. Both are not simply characters but representations of their respective countries. Petruchio is the brash, American military officer who attempts to discipline the feisty Filipina named Katherina, and the entire taming process is seen as an illustration of the American colonial policy called “benevolent assimilation" or "white love." This paper describes the postcolonial discourse implicit in the production that also uses the theater conventions of the time, the zarzuela and the bodabil, to counterpoint the action of the play. Katherina's final speech on marital fidelity is performed in the declamatory style learned by Filipinos from their American teachers: it is at once a slavish devotion to American tutelage and a mockery of it. Petruchio hears the speech and believe Katherina has been tamed. But Filipino audiences recognize the opposite: what may be goose to the colonizer is gander to the colonized.

Aims

What I wanted to do with Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew was to stage the play in the eyes of Philippine history. How the production eventually became a postcolonial discourse of Philippine-American relations at the turn of the 20th century was a fortuitous convergence of several events and ideas. In this paper, I provide a narrative of these events and ideas, and articulate how these influenced my reading of Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew. In this reading, the taming of the shrew is seen as a metaphor for the attempted taming of the Filipino by the American colonial power in the Philippines during the first decade and a half of the last century. It is a reading that represents the business of reinterpreting Shakespeare, and this business, to paraphrase Loomba and Orkin (1998:3), is part of the business of reinterpreting and changing our Filipino social world.

Locating the Period

The decision to locate the play during the early American colonial period, circa 1900- 1915, was, so to speak, in the air. The year 2001 marked the centennial of the arrival to the Philippines of the Thomasites, a group of American teachers, upright (and white) women and men, who taught young Filipinos in public schools to speak, read, and write English. The United States Embassy in Manila celebrated the event with much fanfare, and even commissioned Tanghalang Pilipino of the Cultural Center of the Philippines, to 2 stage One Hundred Songs of Mary Helen Fee, a play based on the letters of one of these teachers. The previous year, 2000, marked the centennial of the American occupation of the Philippines. The United States Embassy understandably avoided fanfare to commemorate the event – and so did the Philippine government, spent as it was, I guess, honoring for the last three years, the country’s struggle against and emancipation from Spain, the other colonial power. How the state could honor its heroes against Spain yet remained relatively mute about the Filipino heroes who battled Admiral George Dewey and American forces in many parts of the country was an issue I thought appropriate to address in some way. The Philippine-American War, observes Mojares (1999:1), has remained “marginal to popular consciousness” despite much scholarship in the field, and the peculiarities of cultural memory, not passage of time, seem to be the culprit.

Ideas from the Academe, Arts, and a Photograph

The worlds of the academe and the stage were not, however, as mute as the state in drawing attention to the American occupation. Historians were among the most active. In addition to Mojares’ work on the war against the Americans in a provincial city were several new accounts of the American colonial presence. Among these were Frank Golay’s Face of Empire: Unites States-Philippine Relations, 1898-1946 (1997), Epifanio San Juan Jr.’s After Postcolonialism: Remapping Philippines-United States Confrontations, (1999), and Vicente Rafael’s White Love and Other Events in Philippine History (2000). Photo anthologies also celebrated the period, two of which were compiled by Jonathan Best: Philippine Picture Postcards, 1900-1920 (1994) and A Philippine Album: American Era Photographs, 1900-1930 (1998).

Philippine theater also made attempts to confront American colonial power in recent years. Several came from the Cultural Center’s Tanghalang Pilipino: among them: Nick Joaquin’s Aguinaldo (1998), El Camino Real (2001), and Luna (2002). Repertory Philippines staged the musical Miong (1998) and Dulaang UP (University of the Philippines) mounted, among others, Anton Juan’s The Price of Redemption (2000) and more recently, Bienvenido Lumbera’s Hibik at Himagsik nina Virginia Lactaw (2002). In 1997, through my company, Tanghalang Ateneo, I staged a rock opera based on perhaps the most well known piece of seditious theater during the American period, Aurelio Tolentino’s Kahapon, Ngayon at Bukas. In 1999, I again drew on American colonialism for inspiration in a production of Shakespeare’s , translated into Filipino the National Artist Rolando S. Tinio. Staged in the style of a traditional komedya, I had Portia, Bassanio, Antonio and the rest of the Christians (the bearers of the new order) speak in English while Shylock and his household (the supposed representatives of the old order) spoke in Filipino. The sympathies of the audience, as expected, went to Shylock rather than to Portia and her ilk (for a discussion of the production, see Reyes 1999).

What put all these things together, however, was a photograph of an American governor and his Filipino wife, a shot taken in the 1930s (see Figure 1). I found the picture in the files of American Historical Collection at the Ateneo de Manila University. What struck me most about the photograph were the body positions of the officer and the lady. The 3

American official, dressed in formal military clothes was seated in foreground, while his Filipino wife sat behind the official, part of her body hidden from full view. The photograph displayed a relationship between non-equals, but more than this, seemed to typify the ideal marriage that an orthodox or literal reading of Taming would advocate. The Filipina wife, in western dress, was to me a vivid image of the tamed Katherina in this orthodox reading. In turn, the American official, tall, stern looking and resplendent in his white military-like gala uniform, suggested an image of Petruchio, tamer of shrews. It dawned on me then that in my production, Petruchio would be a military officer of the American army assigned to the Philippines, and Katherina, the Filipina woman who would eventually become Petruchio’s wife.

Figure 1. The American Official and his Wife (photo courtesy of the American Historical Collection, Ateneo de Manila University)

But what would motivate Katherina to marry Petruchio, endure the many tests of obedience, and later “submit” to her husband? The path to an answer, I found, came from an ethnographic account of Philippine rural life, Fenella Cannel’s (1999) anthropological study of power and intimacy in Bicol, a province located south of the Manila, a province with its own compelling history of opposition to American colonial rule.

Love and Marriage – Philippine Style

Women in Bicol, writes Cannell (1999:29-47), understand two kinds of love. One is “true love” (tunay na pagkamoot), and the other is “learnt love” (pagkamoot na naadalan 4 sana) – the use of the tag-word sana meaning “just” or “only”. The second kind prevails in arranged or forced marriages, and by using the word sana, women can stress that in the course of their marriage, one “just” learns to love one’s husband. These women enter into marriage in filial obedience to their parents’ wishes, and start out their marital life as “reluctant wives” – i.e., in hostile exchange with their husbands on words, food, and sex - - until they achieve natotoodan, a kind of mutual accommodation, or a state of learning to love one’s husband in spite of what has gone before.

In my reading of Taming of the Shrew, Katherina undergoes a similar process: she is forced into marriage with a man she hardly knows, and towards the end finds a way to accommodate to a life with the brash Petruchio. She has not become submissive, and neither does she assert matriarchal power. Like the women of Bicol, she would find her voice in a marital relationship. And like many Shakespearean heroines, as Judy Celine Ick argues in Unsex Me Here (1999), Katherina, now the Bicolano woman, would manage to negotiate her own power and identity in the nooks and crannies of a masculine world. Such was brown love.

From Brown Love to White Love

But Taming is more than just a woman-man thing, a battle of agencies. It is also a battle of structures, metaphor for the relationship between the colonizer and the colonized – in this instance, the relationship between Americans and Filipinos during the American colonial period. And why the American and not the Spanish period? The Spanish governed with the weapons of faith and force. Petruchio does not; in fact, he carries neither a cross nor a sword. The Americans instead ruled with the weapons of love and discipline, inspired by the policy of what President William McKinley calls “benevolent assimilation” and what Vicente Rafael (2000:19-51) re-terms as “benevolent bondage” or “white love”. While the policy drew protest from intellectual circles in the United States (Tugado 2002), it remained the guiding principle of the United States toward its colonies. A letter written in April 1900 by American President William McKinley to the Secretary of War expresses the “love” angle of this policy. In this letter, McKinley instructs the body appointed to oversee political life in the new colony, the Philippine Commission, on its mission (Davis 1905: 381):

(The Philippine Commission) should bear in mind that the government which they are establishing is designed not for our satisfaction...but for the happiness, peace, and prosperity of the people of the Philippine islands, and the measures adopted should be made to conform to their customs, habits, and even prejudices, to the fullest extent consistent with the accomplishment of the indispensable requisite of just and effective government.

What constituted the ”indispensable requisite of just and effective government,” however, was one that the colonizer, and not the colonized, defines. For while the American aim to win the confidence, respect, and affection of the Filipinos was a noble goal -- and as Rafael (2000: 21) notes, a “moral imperative” for the colonizers -- the limits of this affection were sharply drawn out as well. One of these limits lay in the view that 5

Filipinos were not ready for self-governance. Severed from their ties with their Spanish papas, the Filipinos were now orphaned children who needed the guidance of their new American daddies. Governor General William Howard Taft’s speech at the Union Reading College in Manila on December 17, 1903 was clear on this point (Davis 1905:390-391):

Being the sovereign in these islands, then the question came, what is our duty to these people (the Filipinos)? ...The United States decided that the people were not themselves able to bring about any beneficial result which would secure an efficient government...that they needed the helping and guiding hand of a people (the Americans) who for hundred of years had fought for individual liberty and popular rule, and who, therefore knew something of the difficulties of organizing government and maintaining it on a popular basis.

Now what is meant by the principle “the Philippines for the Filipinos?” ...The doctrine...assumes that the Filipinos are of future capacity, but not of present fitness for self-government, and that they may be taught by the gradual extension of self-government to exercise the conservative self-restraint without which popular government is impossible.

To the Americans, not many Filipinos, young as they were in the art and craft of political rule, would perhaps be able to exercise “conservative self-restraint”. Some may, and in fact did, rebel against the newly installed government. To these errant children – bandits and insurgents, as they were called -- discipline must be imposed. And if necessary, brutally imposed. President McKinley continues his instructions to the Philippine Commission (Davis 1905:382):

The Commission should bear in mind, and the people of the islands should be made plainly to understand, that there are certain great principles of government which have been made the basis of our governmental system which we deem essential to the rule of law, and the maintenance of individual freedom...that there are also practical rules of government which we have found to be essential to the preservation of these great principles of liberty and law, and that these principles and these rules of government must be established and maintained in their islands...however much they may conflict with the customs or laws of procedure with which they are familiar.

So much for the measures adopted “to conform to the customs, habits, and even prejudices” of the island people. The mission of colonization also entailed the need for a strong arm to quell riots, insurrections, banditry and other disturbances and to trample all hindrances to the formation what the Americans defined as a good and stable government. This mission, coupled with the desire to cultivate “the felicity and perfection of the Philippine people” (Rafael 2000: 21) made love and discipline the twin ideological pillars of American colonial rule for fifty years. One may argue that the same pillars of governance still prevail to date, so that there may be really nothing ”post” about colonialism (Lacsamana 2002:132).

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Love, Discipline, and Taming

Petruchio, the American soldier, uses both strategies of discipline and love. He physically overpowers Katherina; deprives her of food, sleep and new clothes; and subjects her to a series of obedience tests. But he does so out of affection (his own version of it anyway) and a desire to transform Katherina into a good, dutiful wife -- one consistent with the orthodox tradition of Elizabethan and Christian marriages (Newman 1992). Petruchio’s taming techniques, it turns out, echo President Woodrow Wilson’s (1921, cited in Rafael 2000:22)) words:

Self-government is a form of character. It follows upon the long discipline which gives people self-possession, self-mastery, and the habit of order and peace... the steadiness of self-control and political mastery. And these things cannot be had without long discipline. No people can be “given” the self-control of maturity. Only a long apprenticeship of obedience can secure them in the precious possession.

And so, the Filipino translator, Ronan Capinding (2002), chose pagpapaamo as the Filipino equivalent for the English “taming” – a Filipino word that implies both imposition (as in the domestication of a pet) and affection (in Filipino, amo means “gentleness”).

And so, too, Capinding opts to drop the Spanish-derived Filipino word terka, the literal translation of “shrew” and instead opted for maldita – partly to get away from the image of shrews or falcons as hunting partners (they have no counterparts in Filipino life, as I know it), but more to focus on the woman, Katherina, who also represents the colonized Filipino and the motherland –young and vibrant and spunky yet still deprived of independence.

Production Choices

And so, in deference to Cannell’s work, I located the play in Bicol during the early American period, a time of transition to what Nick Joaquin (1979) calls a vivacious “New Era”. The moro-moro (the traditional komedya inherited from Spanish colonization) gave way to the glitzy bodabil (the variety show introduced by the Americans). The zarzuela (a musical play akin to the operetta) reached its peak, automobiles started to roam the streets, and the first carnival sprang on Manila grounds. American baseball was the sport of the day, and the Philippine team, under American coaching, placed second to Japan in the Asian Olympiad. Men started to sport white drill suits, and while women still wore the tapiz and panuelo, the long, and frilly skirts displayed on the pages of American magazines were becoming the fashion of the time. Thanks to the Thomasites, Filipinos now peppered their conversations with English words and phrases and gulped bottles of beer, scotch and Coca-Cola (una bebida tan deliciosa y fortificante proclaimed one ad) in the cabarets and saloons that began to dot the townscape. To the Americans, the Philippines was a booming town – a fact underscored by a gold mining rush in later years. Paracale, our version of Shakespeare’s Padua, was one such gold mining town in the Bicol province during the American period. 7

Katherina and sister Bianca were going to Bicolano women, daughters to the wealthy Baptista Minola who probably owned a rich mine in Paracale. The three, together with an array of servants, would live in one of the grand houses of the local elite. Petruchio would be an American officer on a vacation in Bicol, there to meet his friend Hortensio, another member of the local elite with the likes of the older Gremio and the widow. Petruchio’s servants, led by the irascible Grumio, would be Filipinos inducted into the American army, a common occurrence at the time. Lucentio, a member of the Manila elite, son of the affluent Vincentio, goes to Paracale with his servant Tranio to study philosophy but gets side tracked by his pursuit of the beautiful Bianca. The members of the male elite will wear white or black suits typical of the time, while lower-ranked males would sport camisas – those loose, collarless shirts that Filipinos wore since Spanish times. The ladies would all be in long skirts, with Katherina and Bianca wearing the more fabulous styles of the period (see Figure 2 for scenes of the production).

The historical period would surface not only in costume but also in music and dance. The first decade of American rule witnessed the start of a shift from Spanish-derived music to American pop songs, and from traditional folk dances to the Western tango and among others, the Dixie. I decided to punctuate some scenes with these songs and dances, and also added comedy routines and a magic act to keep the Shakespearean comedy in tune with the spirit of the bodabil (vaudeville), the American-introduced variety show that has become a standard in Philippine popular entertainment.

And because Petruchio was American, English had to be spoken along with the Filipino tongue of the native characters. Under the tutelage of the Thomasites, many of these Filipinos would speak some English, too, heavily accented it may be. A bilingual text was then developed with language used as a device to stratify characters by race. I deployed a similar strategy in a production of The Merchant of Venice (1999), this time with language used to disaggregate characters by both race and religion.

Response of the Dominated

Not all Filipinos loved the United States with the fervor of the sajonistas, those Americanized Filipinos whose revulsion towards the Gringo in the 1900s turned into reverence a decade later (Joaquin 1979). In the hills and towns, nationalist groups like the colorums, descendants of the Katipunan, battled American troops. Mojares (1999) adds that factions of the local elite frequently collaborated with the Americans, and hastened the downfall of nationalist groups. But the so-called “seditious” Filipino playwrights continued to defy American authorities and boldly staged their plays -- many were arrested and imprisoned for inciting the public (Salamanca 1978). The public display of the Philippine flag was at first prohibited, even in stage plays, and when the colonial law that banned this patriotic display was repealed in 1916, nationalist groups still struggled to liberate Inangbayan (the motherland) from American rule. Despite the detention of earlier “seditious” playwrights, for example, other writers, reports literary critic Jerry Respeto (2001), used the 1896 Revolution as a source of inspiration to stage plays that clamored for independence. These nationalists never did get to overthrow the Americans 8 but their voice, and that of the competing sajonistas, were two major Filipino responses to the regime of benevolent assimilation.

Either of these two responses could have provided a backdrop to Katherina’s final speech about the duties of a good wife – the trickiest lines of the play. The speech could suggest resistance, a false display of wifely obedience, a game to trick Petruchio into believing that she had indeed been tamed when in fact she had not. Alternatively, the speech could suggest submission, a sajonista-like devotion to Petruchio’s husbandry, a successful socialization into a traditional gender role. My reading takes neither position. I recall Livingstone (1995:192) who quotes Césaire and Auclaine-Tamaroff in their interpretations of a Tunisian production of The Tempest:

Demystified, the play (is) essentially about the master-slave relation, a relation that is still alive and which, in my opinion, explains a good deal of contemporary history: in particular, colonial history, the history of the United States. Wherever there are multiracial societies, the same drama can be found...

The dominated can adopt several attitudes. One is Caliban’s revolt. Another is Ariel’s whose path is more complicated – but is not necessarily one of submission, that would be too simple...

What would Katherina’s “not so simple” path be?

A Reading of the Submission Speech

As I read it, the modal colonial relationship that prevailed during the American period, at least in the early years, was neither one of resistance or submission, but one of accommodation. In another work, Vicente Rafael (1993), talking about the Spanish rule, uses the term “contracting colonialism” to explain how Filipinos managed to adopt colonial practices (e.g. going to confession) without really swallowing the whole spirit of the practice. Much of the same, I suspect, took place under the Americans. Filipinos adopted the American language, its social institutions (chiefly education and politics), and many objects of its material culture with seeming ease, but appropriated these to their own context and desire. While the surface of Filipino life may thus look American, its soul remains true blue Filipino. The Filipino has managed to “contract” the American way of life.

So, too, I think, did Katherina the shrew. She has found a way to live with the mighty Petruchio. She has discovered her own power in the interstices of an inter-racial marriage. And perhaps more importantly, she has been able to reconcile submission and resistance, using either strategy as demanded by the needs of the marriage. Petruchio offered white love, Katherina reciprocated with brown love. But the love remains a common denominator along with the unique identities of each partner.

In Bicol, says Fenella Cannel (1999), the uneasy process of accommodation, or natotoodan, in arranged or forced marriages – the process of learning to love one’s 9 spouse –settles down with the birth of children. Childbirth fulfills the woman, gives her confidence, and grants her the license to express more intimacy towards her spouse. The husband is now a father, and the work and responsibility that accompany the new role gives the man a sense of vulnerability that endears them to their wives. The husband has now become the object of compassion or pity. He, too, in effect, has been tamed.

The plot of Taming of the Shrew does not get this far. I’d like to think, however, that this is the direction that a married Katherina and Petruchio will take in an imagined sequel. But has Katherina thus been tamed, in the way the orthodox reading of the play suggests?

Not really, though I let the audience infer that from Katherina’s delivery of her famous submission speech. The confident Petruchio orders Katherina to “tell these headstrong wives what duty they owe their lords and husbands,” and to begin first with the widow. Katherina acquiesces. She moves towards the skeptical widow and scolds her, uttering the first six lines in Filipino. Everyone is amazed. She pauses, moves up center, stands close to a gloating Petruchio, and recites the rest of the speech in English, the language of her master -- but in the accent of the native. It is a form of recitation still heard today, a declamatory style that audiences will recall from elocution contests in elementary and high school. It is a style, typical perhaps even during the American period, where the serious, slavish, though distorted, devotion to English speech take precedence over what modern actors call “inner truth.” It is also a style that can also impress others in its ability to mimic the other, in this case the American. Not surprisingly, everyone, including Petruchio, is even more astounded at the taming of the shrew.

But the artificiality of declamation can be a playful mockery of the language –and by extension, a playful mockery of the other, in this case Americans. Audiences consistently greeted this delivery of the “submission speech” with laughter and applause. They laugh and applaud not so much because Katherina has managed to dupe Petruchio and the rest of the party guests. They laughed and applauded, I think, because they, the Filipinos, have also managed to put one over the colonial Americans. In effect, they have achieved through an act of theatrical imagination to liberate themselves from the historical bondage of benevolent assimilation. Critical to the American imperial conquest was to reconstruct the colonized according to the desires of the colonizer. Using the magic of the theater, Filipino audiences get a chance to reverse the process: to reconstruct the colonizer into the desires of the colonized. The experience can be empowering.

The last line of the play, originally Lucentio’s, has been transferred to Gremio who, doubling as Christopher Sly, is also indirectly the play’s observer. The original Isang milagro ito, na naamo siyang totoo, sa iyong pahintulot (’Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so) has been simplified –and made interrogative—to read Naamo na ba siyang totoo? (Has she truly been tamed so?). Gremio/Sly is unsure. But Filipinos know in their hearts that Katherina, the woman and the motherland, has not completely succumbed to the might of the American officer, and by extension, to American colonial power as a whole. 10

Concluding Note

In her review of After Postcolonialism, Anne Lacsamana (2002:132) writes that “the strength of San Juan’s work is his belief that Third World scholars and artists can transcend the limits of historical possibility, limits imposed by neocolonial dependency, and begin to reorient their work towards the liberation and self-determination of the peoples involved.” In Shakespeare’s plays, The Tempest has been the text of note in exploring issues of colonialism, resistance, and emancipation (Fortier 1997:133-135, Brotton 1998). I contend that The Taming of the Shrew can be read with similar postcolonial notions in mind. It can also provide occasion to debunk, in the imagined ways of the theater, previous assertions that the colonization process is a top-down relationship that flows from the colonizer to the colonized. In both Taming and Tempest, the act of subduing the colonized does not lead to the ends that the colonizer wishes it to be. Or perhaps what the colonized wants it to be. What is goose for the colonizer may be gander to the colonized –and vice-versa.

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NOTES

An earlier version of this paper was presented at the conference “Shakespeare Performance and the New Asias” held at the National University of Singapore, June 27-30, 2002. I wish to acknowledge the National University of Singapore and the Office of the Vice President and the School of Humanities, Loyola Schools, Ateneo de Manila University, for making it possible for me to attend the conference.

Tanghalang Ateneo’s production of Ang Pagpapaamo sa Maldita, a translation and adaptation of William Shakespeare’s “The Taming of the Shrew,” opened at the Far Eastern University Auditorium on January 27, 2002. Filipino Translation by Ronan B. Capinding. Direction by Ricardo Abad. Set and Costume Design by Salvador F. Bernal. Choreography by Ricky Rosal. Light Design by Donato Karingal. The production was then shown from February to April 2002 at the Henry Lee Irwin Theater, Ateneo de Manila University; the University of the East Auditorium; and the Subic Bay Arts Center in Subic, Zambales.

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