The Contradictions after the “Peace Rally”: Power, Politics, and the Illusion of Unity

The Contradictions after the “Peace Rally”: 

Power, Politics, and the Illusion of Unity

By Kirit Thanarat

The idea of rallying for peace may sound appealing, particularly to those who sincerely desire it. Calls for unity, reconciliation, and national stability resonate deeply in any society. However, when such calls emerge from those deeply entrenched in power struggles—those who corrupt, those who oppress—should they still be taken at face value? 

As the campaign period unfolds, a so-called “peace rally” has drawn significant attention, not just for its sheer size but for the political weight it carries. While its organizers claim it is an act of national unity, its timing and execution suggest otherwise. The presence of hundreds of thousands, mobilized with precision, demonstrates something far beyond an ordinary assembly. To politicians, this is not just a peaceful gathering—it is a projection of power, a reminder that their support can determine electoral outcomes. 

Religious Solidarity or Political Leverage? 

This is the reality of religious influence in politics. While cloaked in the language of faith and harmony, such movements often serve as tools of political leverage. Politicians who witness such numbers—who see the extent to which religious institutions command their members—are compelled to take notice. The implied message is clear: support our interests, or risk losing the votes we control. 

This extends beyond mere endorsements. In a high-stakes election, a bloc of several hundred thousand votes is not just an asset—it is a kingmaker. That is the true power of religious solidarity: it does not simply provide moral guidance but ensures direct influence over governance. Any candidate who wishes to secure such backing knows that aligning with these groups is a political necessity. 

Defending the Embattled: A Shield Against Criticism 

Yet the rally’s timing raises deeper concerns. Some observers note that while it presents itself as a gathering for peace, it also functions as a defensive barrier for embattled figures facing public scrutiny. The president’s recent opposition to impeachment calls against the vice president—despite accusations of betrayal of public trust—further fuels these suspicions. 

Is this truly about justice, or is it about preserving a crucial political alliance? The groups behind the rally are not merely advocating for peace—they are also defending a figure who remains at the center of controversy. The question then becomes: are they seeking genuine national unity, or are they using the language of peace to protect those in power? 

The Paradox of Their Strength 

If one is to be blunt, the rally was a demonstration of power, not peace. And if this is truly about power, then why stop at peaceful demonstrations? 

Movements that claim victimhood while amassing influence often follow a historical pattern. At first, they seek legitimacy through peaceful means—mobilizing numbers, pressuring politicians, demanding recognition. But history has shown that when such movements perceive themselves as besieged, they often escalate their tactics. 

If they are truly oppressed, as they claim, why not take their struggle further? If endurance is no longer enough, why not follow the logic of those who justify holy war? Many radical movements have used similar rhetoric—claims of persecution, struggles against injustice, and the belief that their cause is divinely sanctioned. If they truly see themselves as under siege, why not raise the sword and fight “in the way of God”? 

Imam Khomeini, the architect of the Iranian Revolution, made this clear: 

“Those who say that religion is separate from politics understand neither religion nor politics.” 

If these rallies are truly about faith, then they are also about power. Khomeini further emphasized: 

“Islam is not a religion of pacifism. Islam is a religion of activism and revolution.” 

If these demonstrations seek to uphold justice, then they should also demand sacrifice. But instead of a true struggle for righteousness, what is presented is a carefully calculated display of force—one that ensures influence without risking direct confrontation. Sorry to quote Khomeini, but the struggle for peace and unity is not driven by peace and unity alone but the struggle for righteousness, truth, and justice- words far from those who defend the status quo.

A False Peace: The Illusion of Unity 

To those who truly seek peace, unity, and justice, this contradiction is evident. While some may be fooled by the slogans of “peace and unity,” others see a different reality—one closer to the facts on the ground. 

The Bible itself warns against those who preach peace while serving hidden interests: 

“They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. ‘Peace, peace,’ they say, when there is no peace.” (Jeremiah 6:14) 

This passage reflects a deeper truth—peace cannot exist where injustice is tolerated. When the powerful call for peace while shielding corruption, their message is not one of harmony but of control. 

Similarly, Proverbs 11:9 states: 

“With their mouths the godless destroy their neighbors, but through knowledge the righteous escape.” 

The rally may proclaim itself as an effort to heal divisions, but what it truly represents is the calculated use of religious fervor to secure political gains. The question remains: does this movement genuinely seek justice, or does it merely seek to consolidate power? 

Compare that spectacle to the rallies in Yemen, where those facing bombardment, starvation, and war do not beg for unity with their oppressors. Instead, they chant: 

 “We do not care—make it a world war.” 

 This is not an endorsement of war but a recognition of reality. When oppression is real, the response is not to hold rallies calling for a fragile peace. The response is resistance, confrontation, and an unwillingness to compromise with those in power. 

 Those who call for “peace” while securing political deals, while shielding those in authority, while ensuring their movement remains unchallenged—these are not revolutionaries, nor are they truly oppressed. They are participants in the very power structures they claim to challenge.

Beyond the Facade: What Comes Next? 

This is the underlying question: will this rally remain just another show of force, or will it eventually escalate? History has shown that movements with such rhetoric do not remain passive forever. First, they present themselves as peaceful. Then, they make demands. And when those demands are not met, they sharpen their message—and, if necessary, their weapons. 

If this rally is truly about justice, then it must eventually demand sacrifice. Because no movement that seeks to wield power—whether religious or political—rests on words alone. 

As the campaign period continues, the public must critically assess what is happening. Is this truly a call for peace? Or is it the opening move in a larger political game? If their demands are met, will they be satisfied? Or is this just the beginning? 

True peace is based on justice, not silence. And for those who claim to be oppressed, peace is never given—it is seized. 

The Black Nazarene: A Call to True Devotion, Justice, and Mercy

The Black Nazarene: A Call to True Devotion, Justice, and Mercy

The devotion to the Most Holy Jesus the Nazarene is a powerful testament to the unwavering faith that burns in the hearts of the poor and afflicted, especially in the streets of Manila, where the faithful gather in profound reverence. At the renowned Quiapo procession, the Black Nazarene—a darkened and weathered image of Christ—serves as a beacon of hope for countless souls, offering light to those in darkness. Yet, this devotion, while deeply cherished, must be understood more deeply, lest it become reduced to mere material requests or fleeting emotions. 

The true meaning of this devotion is not in external acts of piety alone but in an intimate participation in the suffering and sacrifice of Christ. Those who seek to touch the image of the Nazarene are not simply recalling the Passion of Christ but are invited to experience it in their own lives. Jesus himself calls all to take up their cross daily and follow him, reminding us that faith is not just about seeking relief from suffering but about embracing the trials and hardships that come with it. Through our own sufferings, we are invited to participate in the mystery of redemption. 

In a world dominated by inequality and poverty, many turn to God for both spiritual and material relief. While it is true that Christ healed the sick and fed the hungry, his call was always to a deeper conversion of heart. True faith does not rest in earthly prosperity but in the peace that comes from God. As the Apostle Paul teaches, it is the peace of God that surpasses all understanding and guards our hearts and minds. 

However, this devotion must also lead to action. If the poor and suffering cry out to God, the faithful and the Church must not remain unmoved. Faith must be lived through works of mercy and justice. As the Book of James reminds us, “Faith without works is dead.” The Church has a duty to not only console the suffering but to work towards improving the social conditions that perpetuate this suffering. Devotion to the Nazarene must inspire us to acts of solidarity and the renewal of society. 

The title “Black Nazarene” holds profound significance. In his darkened image, Christ is found among the poor, the broken, and the marginalized. As Isaiah said, he is “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.” Yet, in this suffering, Christ remains Emmanuel—God with us. He is not a distant observer but a companion who walks with us, suffers with us, and lives in hope with us. 

Ultimately, true devotion to the Nazarene is not a mere tradition or superstition. It must be a faith that leads to action. Those who venerate the Nazarene are called to imitate him—by carrying their own crosses, serving the poor, and promoting justice. Let us remember Christ’s invitation: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” May devotion to the Most Holy Jesus the Nazarene inspire us not only to reflect on his sacrifice but also to live lives marked by faith, justice, mercy, and love for the poor.  

A Christian's continuing cry for Justice: As the Nazarene's 'Andas' pulled harder towards the way

A Christian's continuing cry for Justice:
As the Nazarene's 'Andas' pulled harder towards the way

The Traslación is an annual religious procession in Manila, where the Black Nazarene, a life-sized statue of Jesus Christ, is paraded through the streets. Devotees, many barefoot, follow the statue with deep reverence, demonstrating their profound faith in Christ’s suffering and a desire for healing, forgiveness, and grace. For many, this is more than a ritual; it is an expression of unity with Christ's passion, sacrifice, and ultimate resurrection.

For those who participate in the Traslación, this is not just a procession of religious expression; it is, in a sense, a battle against personal suffering and a declaration of resistance against the trials that life brings.

The words of the Apostle Paul resonate deeply here: “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39). The perseverance of the devotees, in their fervent journey through the streets of Quiapo, mirrors this unshakable belief. Their physical exhaustion and emotional intensity become a metaphor for the challenges and burdens they endure for their faith.

However, there are those who argue that Christians should abandon their veneration of the Black Nazarene and other holy symbols that have been cherished for centuries. They do not understand the profound significance of these devotions. They fail to recognize that it is through the passion, suffering, and resurrection of Christ that the foundation of the Christian faith was established. The Black Nazarene, with His image of Christ carrying the cross, is not just a symbol of sorrow; it is a symbol of the power of divine love and defiance against tyranny.

The Black Nazarene represents a reflection of Christ’s own sacrifice for humanity. It is through His suffering and death that the victory over sin and death was won, and this victory carries with it a charge for all who follow Him. The procession of the Black Nazarene and the devotion to His passion have transcended simple remembrance—they are a call to action. The walk of the Nazarene, bearing the cross through the streets, is not just a historical event; it is a call to every believer to take up their cross and follow Him, to live lives of courage, resistance, and justice.

Christ’s journey to Calvary, marked by His rejection of the powers that sought to crush Him, serves as the model for every Christian who seeks to stand firm against injustice. "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 5:10). This divine message of defiance, made manifest through Christ’s “No” to evil, to tyranny, to oppression, must be carried out daily and everywhere. The message of the Black Nazarene is clear: no matter how great the empire of sin and oppression, a small but committed group can stand firm against it in the name of justice and righteousness. And now as it invites every faithful to reflect on the suffering of Christ, whose death on the cross is seen as the ultimate act of sacrificial love. Jesus himself said, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). The Black Nazarene, with its suffering Christ, whose words said "I'm Thirst" during his passion symbolizes this profound act of selflessness, which devotees recall as they follow the procession, often enduring physical hardship in the hopes of obtaining spiritual healing.

The Black Nazarene’s journey is an emblem not of a defeated people, but of a people called to militant faith. The cross He bore was not only a symbol of suffering but also of the unwavering resistance to the forces of darkness. His cry of suffering echoes the cry of all who have been oppressed and marginalized, and it is this cry that Christians must answer. Many who criticize the tradition of honoring the Black Nazarene fail to see the depth of its spiritual and political significance. They mistakenly view the devotion to the cross as nothing more than a display of grief, but in reality, it is a radical declaration of faith and defiance against all forms of injustice.

The enemies of Christ’s message—those who perpetuate cruelty, injustice, and sin—fear the powerful cry of the oppressed. This cry, embodied in the suffering of Christ and symbolized by the Black Nazarene, is a force that calls Christians not only to personal devotion but also to resistance. It is the cry of solidarity with the poor, the marginalized, the persecuted, and those who stand against tyranny. It is a shout of victory against evil, for in the end, Christ’s death on the cross was not a defeat, but the greatest victory ever won.

The procession of the Black Nazarene, with its powerful display of faith, is an embodiment of resistance. It is an act of defiance, a statement that, just as Christ carried His cross, so too must His followers bear witness to the truth and stand firm against the injustice that pervades the world. This devotion is not passive, but active. It is not about a helpless weeping nation, but about a nation empowered by faith to rise up against oppression and proclaim the message of justice.

To the youth, to the next generation of Christians, the call is clear: Do not allow the message of the Black Nazarene to become trivialized. It is not a mere tradition of sorrow, but a profound act of militant faith. The rituals of the Passion of Christ, including the veneration of the Black Nazarene, are not merely commemorations of past events; they are calls to live out the example of Christ in a world that continues to be ravaged by injustice. It is a challenge to every Christian to stand firm in their faith, to resist the powers that seek to oppress, and to fight for justice.

This is not about mourning for the sake of mourning. As the Apostle Paul reminds us: "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good" (Romans 12:21). The Black Nazarene, like Christ’s own suffering, is a reminder that faith requires action, courage, and resilience. As Christians, they are called to participate in the ongoing battle between good and evil, between justice and oppression. The cross they bear is not simply a symbol of personal suffering, but a public declaration of their opposition to the forces of injustice and cruelty.

The Black Nazarene is a sign—a political and spiritual sign—of resistance. It is not merely a relic of the past, but a living call to continue the work of Christ, to proclaim liberty to the captives, to heal the brokenhearted, and to stand with the oppressed. These devotions and rituals must be kept alive, for they serve as powerful reminders that Christ’s mission continues to be relevant today. The Black Nazarene’s path is the path of resistance, the path of courage, and the path of justice.

As the Bible states: "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me" (Matthew 16:24). The Black Nazarene’s walk is the Christian walk, a walk that leads to Calvary, to resurrection, and to the ultimate triumph of justice. Christians must continue to follow that path, bearing witness to the truth and standing firm against the forces of evil that seek to oppress the world.

Let no one underestimate the power of this devotion. The Black Nazarene is not simply a symbol of sorrow, but a rallying cry for justice, a bold declaration that the way of Christ is the way of defiance against evil, and the way of standing firm for the cause of the oppressed. 

When in every Action becomes a Traslacion

When in every Action becomes a Traslacion

Each year, on January 9, the faithful gather from every corner of the Philippines to partake in a profound act of devotion—the Feast of the Black Nazarene. In the heat of the day and the press of the crowd, they come with prayers on their lips and hope in their hearts, seeking guidance, healing, and strength.

At the heart of this sacred tradition is the Traslacion, the solemn procession that carries the revered image of the Black Nazarene through the streets of Manila. It is more than a journey; it is a reflection of Christ’s own path to Calvary, a living testimony to sacrifice and salvation. “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). Here, faith takes form in movement, in struggle, in every hand reaching out toward the image of Christ.

For centuries, this devotion has bound the faithful together, a reminder that suffering is not borne alone. Bare feet meet the scorching pavement, millions press forward, arms outstretched, as if to touch even the hem of His garment. “If I just touch His clothes, I will be healed” (Mark 5:28). The fervor of the devotees is not desperation, but belief—a conviction that faith, when lived, transforms.

The Traslacion is not merely an event; it is an expression of a deep, abiding faith that finds its strength in sacrifice and perseverance. Pope Benedict XVI, in "Spe Salvi", reminds that suffering, when united with Christ, becomes redemptive: “The true measure of humanity is essentially determined in relationship to suffering and to the sufferer. This holds true for the individual as well as for society” (Spe Salvi, 38). In carrying the cross, Christ entered fully into human suffering; in following Him, the faithful recognize that trials, too, can become a path to grace.

Through the winding streets, the Black Nazarene moves, and with Him, every soul that carries a burden, every heart that yearns for healing. “Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus” (Hebrews 12:1). Pope Francis, in "Evangelii Gaudium", speaks of a faith that must be taken beyond the church walls and lived in the streets: “The Church which ‘goes forth’ is a community of missionary disciples who take the first step, who are involved and supportive, who bear fruit and rejoice” (Evangelii Gaudium, 24). The Traslacion embodies this very call—a faith that walks, struggles, and reaches out, a faith that moves.

Let this day be a call to remembrance. Let it speak of Christ’s unwavering presence in every trial, His enduring love in every sorrow. “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). And as the faithful cry out “Viva Señor Nazareno!”, may their lives carry forward the lesson of this day: that faith is not merely spoken, but lived—step by step, in devotion and trust. 

“Jesus Nazareno: Glory in Struggle, Hope in Liberation”

“Jesus Nazareno: Glory in Struggle, Hope in Liberation”

By Ted Tuvera

For the devotees of the Black Nazarene — and there are millions! — the title "Nazarene" or "Nazareno" is revered. But in the biblical and historical context of Jesus of Nazareth, it is rather discriminating. In Jesus' context (and even in the image itself), it is one that is suspect.

For instance, in the first chapter of John's Gospel, when Philip introduced Jesus of Nazareth as "the one about whom Moses wrote in the law, and also the prophets" to Nathanael, the latter responded "Can anything good come from Nazareth?" (Jn 1:45-46)

Imagine it as of almost the same tone when one is warned — with condescension — of people from Manila districts where thugs thrive.

In John's passion narrative, those who were about to arrest Jesus strongly searched for him, identifying him as a criminal "Jesus the Nazorean" (Jn 18:4-5, 7). A condemned criminal hanging, dying on the Cross, Pilate ordered that an inscription be pegged on top of Jesus' head: "Jesus the Nazorean, the King of the Jews." (Jn 19:19)

Imagine it as the condemnation written on placards back at the height of the government's drug war where thousands fell to extrajudicial killings: "Drug Pusher - Huwag tularan!"

The traslacion itself could be imagined as a procession where a condemned criminal is being paraded.

If there is a stand-out message that's worth reckoning about this Filipino tradition, it has to be the solemnity, the glory of God that is found and realized in the people's struggle for justice, for peace, for liberation.

And this is consistent with the whole story of Jesus of Nazareth who was born poor, ministered as a poor itinerant rabbi, and mocked and condemned to death as a poor criminal.

Paul, in that beautiful hymn in his letter to the Philippians, wrote: "Though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather, he emptied himself and took the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men." (Phil 2:6-7)

Just as there are millions of devotees of the Nazareno, there are also millions of reasons why they (we) flock to him.

Sure, God, Jesus can be glorified in many ways — such as in our fancy liturgies and solemn rituals and hymns (that are all wonderful). But identifying him as the Nazareno draws us to glorify him where he really was, where he really is: in the midst of a people that struggles – journeying in hope along the path of liberation.

VIVA JESUS NAZARENO! 

Marcos’ Shake-Up in the National Security Council: For the sake of National Security? Or Outright Politics?

Marcos’ Shake-Up in the National Security Council: 

For the sake of National Security? Or Outright Politics?

President Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s recent decision to remove Vice President Sara Duterte and three former presidents from the National Security Council (NSC) has sparked controversy, with critics calling it a political maneuver rather than a strategic realignment of national security priorities. 

Through Executive Order No. 81, signed on December 30, 2024, Marcos removed Vice President Duterte—daughter of former President Rodrigo Duterte—as well as former Presidents Duterte, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, and Joseph Estrada from the NSC. 

While the order does not explicitly mention China or the West Philippine Sea (WPS), many see it as a response to Beijing’s increasing aggression in Philippine waters—an issue where the Duterte administration was widely criticized for its soft stance. 

Of moves Echoing the Past 

This political shake-up has reignited memories of how former President Rodrigo Duterte sidelined then-Vice President Leni Robredo from all government meetings, including the NSC. In 2016, Duterte’s Cabinet Secretary Jun Evasco Jr. sent Robredo a text message informing her that she was barred from attending Cabinet meetings, despite serving as the chair of the Housing and Urban Development Coordinating Council (HUDCC). As a result, Robredo resigned on December 5, 2016, citing “major differences in principles and values” with the administration. 

Now, Marcos’ EO 81 effectively sidelines Sara Duterte in a similar fashion. In an open letter last November, the vice president had already raised concerns about being excluded from NSC meetings despite her membership. The executive order simply made it official. 

Meanwhile, those who support the Duterte faction claims that the controversy also brings back memories of how Marcos Jr.’s own father, the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos Sr., removed his vice president, Fernando Lopez, from the National Security Council through Executive Order No. 13 in 1966. 

Yet, one might ask: Was Lopez complaining? The year was 1966. Martial Law was declared in 1972. He was also Secretary of Agriculture and Natural Resources from 1965 to 1971.

Unlike today’s political climate, where every move is scrutinized and turned into a battleground for influence, Lopez’s removal did not cause an uproar. Whether this was due to the political culture of the time, Lopez’s own political calculations, or the looming consolidation of power that would lead to Martial Law is up for debate. 

‘Dirty Politics’ or Justified Decision? 

Former Chief Presidential Legal Counsel Salvador Panelo strongly condemned the decision, calling it an attempt to weaken Sara Duterte’s “political star power.” He argued that the removal of Arroyo and Estrada was merely a cover to make it appear that Duterte was not being singled out. 

In response to Panelo’s criticism, Executive Secretary Lucas Bersamin dismissed his arguments, stating that the former presidential spokesperson had “no moral authority” to question the decision. Bersamin pointed out that Panelo himself had previously supported the exclusion of former Vice President Leni Robredo from national security meetings under the Duterte administration. 

This contradiction raises a critical question: Is this truly about governance, or is it merely political convenience at play? 

While Marcos’ allies insist that the move is about streamlining national security decision-making, its political implications are undeniable. It marks a clear break between the Marcos and Duterte camps—former allies in the 2022 elections—while also removing Duterte loyalists who have historically had a more conciliatory approach toward China. 

A New Direction for National Security? 

The NSC, a crucial body responsible for advising the president on national security matters, has long been a mix of political and security figures. Whether removing former presidents and the sitting vice president will improve its effectiveness remains to be seen. But given the heightened tensions in the WPS, the move signals a shift in how the Marcos administration intends to handle the country’s most pressing security threats. 

Was this a necessary restructuring to ensure a more decisive response to national security concerns? Or was it merely an act of political consolidation, sidelining potential rivals ahead of the 2028 elections? 

One thing is clear: this decision is not just about national security—it is about power. 

The Etymology of Maynila: A Linguistic and Geographic Reassessment

The Etymology of Maynila: A Linguistic and Geographic Reassessment

 By Amir Emmanuel 

Introduction

The etymology of Maynila (modern-day Manila) has been the subject of debate among historians, linguists, and cultural scholars. The city’s name, as it is known today, appears to be a Hispanized or evolved form of an older indigenous term. While widely accepted explanations propose that Maynila derives from either the nilad plant or the Sanskrit word nilā (indigo), a more linguistically and geographically coherent theory suggests that Maynila originates from Maydila, meaning “at the tongue” in Tagalog.

This paper examines the competing theories regarding the origin of Maynila, analyzing their linguistic feasibility and historical plausibility. It argues that Maynila as a corruption of Maydila—a reference to the tongue-like land formation near the Pasig River—offers a more consistent explanation within the framework of Philippine place-naming conventions and phonetic evolution.

The Nilad Theory: A Romanticized Etymology

One of the most popular explanations for the name Maynila is that it comes from nilad, a local mangrove shrub (Scyphiphora hydrophyllacea) that grows in brackish water and coastal areas. Early Spanish chroniclers, including Emma Helen Blair, recorded that nilad was a plant found along the shores of Manila Bay and suggested that the city’s name may have derived from the phrase "May Nilad" (“There is nilad”).

However, despite the appeal of this explanation, there are significant linguistic inconsistencies. The main issue lies in the phonetic transformation from nilad to Maynila. In Tagalog, the final consonant d in nilad would not naturally disappear in standard phonetic evolution. If the name had indeed come from nilad, one would expect it to retain its final consonant, resulting in Maynilad rather than Maynila. Furthermore, nilad was never recorded as a highly significant plant in pre-colonial Manila, and there is little direct evidence linking it to the original name of the settlement.

Additionally, the phrase May nilad itself sounds unnatural in Tagalog. In the structure of native place names, the phrase may (“there is”) is typically followed by a noun that describes a geographic or cultural feature, such as Maypajo (“There is pajo [a type of tree]”) or Mayhaligue (“There is haligue [wooden posts]”). If the name Maynila truly originated from nilad, one would expect the grammatical construction to follow a pattern closer to Maynilad rather than Maynila.

The Nilā Theory: An Overextended Sanskrit Connection

A second theory proposes that Maynila is derived from the Sanskrit word nilā, which means “blue” or “indigo.” This theory suggests that Maynila may have been named after the dye-producing nilā plant (Indigofera tinctoria), which was a valuable commodity in Southeast Asian trade. Sanskrit words influenced many Philippine languages through early trade and religious contact, especially via Malay intermediaries, and it is not implausible that some foreign linguistic elements made their way into local toponyms.

However, a major issue with this theory is that in Tagalog, the word for indigo is tayum, not nilā. If the name Maynila were truly based on the concept of indigo dye, it would have been more likely to follow the structure of Maytayum or Tayuman (as seen in the place name Tayuman in modern Manila). Additionally, Kapampangan, which had significant linguistic influence over the northern parts of Manila before Spanish colonization (with the Pasig River as its boundary), uses tayum rather than nilā to refer to indigo.

This raises a fundamental question: if Maynila truly derived from nilā, why did local linguistic patterns not reflect this term? In contrast, other Philippine place names that reference colors or dye-making processes, such as Tayuman (a place associated with indigo dyeing), use the indigenous term tayum. The absence of nilā in the native lexicon undermines the credibility of this etymology.

The Maydila Hypothesis: A Geographically and Linguistically Coherent Explanation

A more convincing etymology for Maynila is that it originates from "Maydila", meaning “at the tongue” in Tagalog. According to Alexander Salt, the word dila translates to “tongue,” and it is plausible that this name was originally a geographic descriptor referring to the tongue-like shape of the land where Manila was established. This would align with the way indigenous peoples often named places based on their geographic features. 

1. Geographic Justification: The Tongue-Like Landform

Manila is located at the mouth of the Pasig River, which feeds into Manila Bay. The area where early settlements formed was shaped by the river’s flow, creating a land formation that jutted out into the bay—resembling a tongue. In Philippine naming conventions, it was common to describe places based on their physical characteristics, as seen in:

 • Navotas (from butas, meaning “hole” or “gap”)

 • Cavite (from kawit, meaning “hook”) 

 • Cebu (from sugbu, referring to burnt land or the act of burning)

 • Muntinlupa (meaning “little land” or “small soil area”)

Given this pattern, Maydila as “the place of the tongue” makes logical sense as a descriptor of the landform at the mouth of the Pasig River.

2. Linguistic Evolution: The Loss of “D” in Maydila

The transformation from Maydila to Maynila follows a common phonetic pattern in Tagalog, where certain consonants are softened or dropped over time. This phonetic simplification can be observed in various Philippine place names, where sounds are altered for ease of pronunciation. The omission of the 'd' in Maydila aligns with this pattern, making Maynila a natural linguistic evolution.

Additionally, Spanish colonial phonetic influence may have contributed to this transformation. Early Spanish records often reflect approximations of indigenous names, modifying their pronunciation to fit Spanish phonology. This process likely played a role in the shift from Maydila to Maynila and eventually to the modern form Manila.

Conclusion: A Reassessment of the Name’s Origins 

While the nilad and nilā theories have been widely circulated, both present linguistic and historical inconsistencies. The nilad theory fails to account for the unexplained phonetic change from nilad to Maynila, while the nilā theory overlooks the fact that the indigenous term for indigo was tayum, not nilā. 

In contrast, the Maydila hypothesis aligns with both linguistic patterns and geographic naming conventions in the Philippines. The land formation at the mouth of the Pasig River naturally resembles a tongue, making Maydila a descriptive and logical name for the area. The phonetic simplification from Maydila to Maynila follows established linguistic shifts observed in other Philippine place names. 

Thus, it is most reasonable to conclude that Maynila is a linguistic corruption of Maydila, shaped over centuries by local phonetic evolution and Spanish colonial adaptation. This explanation not only adheres to indigenous naming conventions but also offers a geographically sound and linguistically plausible account of how Manila came to be called Maynila. 

References

Blair, E. H. (1903). The Philippine Islands. Vol. 29. Cleveland: Arthur H. Clark Company. Potet, Jean-Paul G., A Grammatical Pandect of Written Tagalog. Printing: 2024-12-24. Pang, A. (1972). Philippine Vocabulary and Etymology. Manila: Philippine Educational Publishing Company. 
Peralta, Jesus T.; Salazar, Lucila A. (1974). Pre-Spanish Manila: A Reconstruction of the Pre-history of Manila. National Historical Commission. 
Reid, L. (2009). Tagalog and Philippine Historical Linguistics. Canberra: Australian National University Press.