When the Nation Lives in the People:
Patriotism, Struggle, and Liberation
Nationalism is often imagined as the product of lofty ideals, heroic figures, and the pens of poets or pamphleteers. Yet such a vision is incomplete, even misleading. True national consciousness does not arise in isolation from the lives of the many who labor, suffer, and struggle under the weight of oppression. It is forged in the shared experience of hunger and fear, cold and injustice—by the people whose daily toil and sacrifice shape the course of history. As Andres Bonifacio once asked: “Is there any love that is nobler, purer, and more sublime than the love of the native country? What love is? Certainly none.” When nationalism becomes mass-based, it is no longer a sentimental abstraction but a living force, rooted in the very blood and sweat of those who have the most at stake. Only then can it reflect the authentic spirit of a nation, rather than the romanticized vision of an elite few.
When nationalism becomes mass-based, it returns to its roots—the lived experience of the people who shape history and determine its destiny. It is shallow and misleading to downplay the role of the working people in favor of a romanticized elite in the formation of nations. The national awakening is not merely a poem, a song, or the sentiment expressed in a pamphlet; it lives in the shared suffering of the masses—the hunger, the cold, the fear imposed by tyrants, both local and foreign—which becomes the fuel that ignites the struggle for emancipation and dissent.
As Andres Bonifacio so poignantly expressed in Katapusang Hibik ng Pilipinas:
“Other mothers cannot compare with you:
your children’s comforts are poverty and sorrows;
when they, in appealing to you, prostrate themselves,
your proffered balm is exceedingly painful.”
Here, Bonifacio evokes the bitter reality of a nation whose people endure hardship while yearning for relief. The love of the native country, he reminds us, is not abstract—it is lived through the suffering and courage of those who bear the weight of injustice. Just like what Bonifacio himself asked, it is this grounded, visceral love—rooted in struggle, sacrifice, and collective endurance—that fuels the rise of a truly national consciousness.
Nationalism, when embraced by the masses rather than confined to elite imaginings, becomes a living, breathing force. It is forged in the shared pains of the people and animated by their will to resist, to claim, and ultimately to shape the destiny of their nation. Only then can patriotism transcend sentimentality and become the enduring foundation of a nation’s liberation and identity.
On this day commemorating Andres Bonifacio, one might reflect that while he may not have been a plebeian in the strictest sense, his love of country rooted him deeply in the lives of the common people, making him one in spirit. By the standards of his time—or even ours—he was relatively well-educated and held positions that afforded him social standing. Yet it was his lived experience among the oppressed, his use of the local tongue, and his profound empathy for those dispossessed that aligned him with the masses. In this sense, he was plebeian, if not proletarian, in the truest measure of the term.
Critics may dismiss such a reading as a travesty, insisting that heroes like Bonifacio or Rizal must be understood through the lens of the idyllic—the former driven by righteous hatred, the latter by lofty idealism. But reality demands more than neat archetypes. True heroism is not nourished by mere pride or personal glory; it is forged in the willingness to leap into the abyss, to risk oneself for a cause greater than oneself. It is this fearless devotion, rooted in solidarity with the people, that compels generations to honor them as heroes—not for their station, but for their sacrifice.
And in speaking of nationalism and the masses, it is precisely this reality—the lived experience of the people, their suffering, struggle, and courage—that explains why many patriots, historically and today, have found resonance in the ideas of Marx, Lenin, and Stalin, despite critiques labeling these thinkers as “antinational.” Such critiques often mistake the critique of oppressive states and ruling elites for a denial of the nation itself. Yet, as history demonstrates, true nationalism is inseparable from the empowerment of the people who give it life.
Marx himself emphasized the material basis of collective struggle: “The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles” (Karl Marx, The Communist Manifesto, 1848). National consciousness, when grounded in the working people, cannot be separated from the material conditions and social struggles that define them. A nation is not merely an abstract concept, a flag, or a set of rituals; it is the sum of its people’s labor, endurance, and collective effort. By understanding history through the lens of class struggle, Marx revealed that the liberation of the nation is bound to the liberation of those who produce and sustain it.
Lenin further clarified the connection between national liberation and the proletariat: “The proletariat of each country, despite all the divisions of nationality, must unite for the overthrow of the bourgeoisie” (Vladimir Lenin, The Right of Nations to Self-Determination, 1914). Here, the “nation” is not an abstract project devised by elites, nor is it defined by sentimental patriotic rhetoric. It is the collective life of the people, whose empowerment—through struggle, solidarity, and self-determination—transforms the very meaning of nationhood. Lenin emphasized that the emancipation of the oppressed classes within a nation strengthens national integrity rather than undermining it, because it roots the nation in justice and shared purpose.
Stalin, in his own formulation, reinforced the idea that the national question is inseparable from class struggle: “A nation is a historically constituted, stable community of people, formed on the basis of a common language, territory, economic life, and psychological makeup manifested in a common culture” (Joseph Stalin, Marxism and the National Question, 1913). For Stalin, the nation is not an elite ideal or a decorative myth; it is the lived and collective reality of people shaped by shared labor, culture, and struggle. It is in the work, traditions, and social cohesion of ordinary people that the nation truly exists.
Thus, when Marxist ideas are embraced in the context of patriotism, it is not the nation that is withered away, as critics often fear, but the state as an instrument of oppression and domination. In its place, the working masses—the true creators of history—become the living embodiment of the nation. Through their collective struggle, solidarity, and self-assertion, they transform abstract nationalism into a tangible force, capable of shaping destiny, resisting tyranny, and securing liberation. Nationalism, when rooted in the people rather than in a mythologized elite, finds its most authentic expression not in ceremonial rhetoric, but in the agency, resilience, and will of those who make history happen.
In this light, mass-based nationalism and Marxist thought converge: both place the people at the center of history, recognizing that the survival, dignity, and agency of the nation are inseparable from the struggles and triumphs of its ordinary citizens. True patriotism, then, is not the passive reverence of symbols but active engagement with the realities of oppression, and the unwavering commitment to empower those whose labor, courage, and sacrifice are the very foundation of the nation itself.
Before this note concludes, it must be said plainly: reclaiming nationalism from those who exploit its sentiment reveals, unmistakably, the presence of class struggle. Nationalism, when monopolized by elites, becomes a tool of mystification—an ornament used to disguise exploitation, to ask for sacrifice without justice, and to demand loyalty without reciprocity. But when nationalism is taken back by the people, when it is grounded in the lived struggles of workers, peasants, and the marginalized, its true nature emerges: a collective demand not merely for independence in name, but liberation in substance.
History shows that national liberation cannot be confined to the idea of a territory freed from colonial rule. A nation may raise its flag yet remain shackled by internal structures of injustice, inequality, and exploitation. A truly liberated nation requires not only the casting off of external domination, but the dismantling of oppressive systems within. Social liberation is not an optional addendum to national freedom—it is its necessary completion.
Yet such a transformation demands enormous courage, effort, and consciousness. The people must come to understand that national freedom without social emancipation is an illusion; that independence without justice is but a change of masters; that patriotism without equality is but a slogan wielded to maintain the status quo. The struggle must therefore be both national and social, both for sovereignty and for dignity, both against foreign tyranny and against the domestic forces that aggravate injustice.
Bonifacio, in his clarity and conviction, understood this deeply. He wrote: “Reason teaches us that we cannot expect anything but more suffering, more treachery, more insults, and more slavery. Reason teaches us not to waste time hoping for the promised prosperity that will never come and never materialise… Reason teaches us to be united in will, united in thought, and united in purpose that we might have strength to combat the prevailing evil in our Nation.”
In these words lies a timeless lesson: freedom is not granted by the goodwill of the powerful, nor achieved by waiting for prosperity to trickle down from the promises of those who benefit from inequality. Freedom must be asserted through unity, awakened by reason, and sustained by collective struggle.
And so, the task of this present time mirrors the task of Bonifacio’s: to awaken a nationalism rooted not in spectacle but in solidarity; not in elite mythmaking but in the aspirations of the masses; not in nostalgia for a sanitized past but in courage to confront the structures that deform the present. To take back nationalism is to return it to its rightful owners—the people—and to insist that the nation cannot be fully free until its people are.