It is probable that England will look favorably upon the

“It is probable that England will look favorably upon the independence of the Philippines, for it will open their ports to her and afford greater freedom to her commerce.” — José Rizal

In these measured yet prophetic words, José Rizal, the martyr and visionary of the Philippine Revolution, speaks with the calm discernment of a man who saw the world as it truly was — not as nations pretended it to be. His insight cuts through the illusions of power and patriotism, revealing the deeper currents that move empires: interest, commerce, and the pursuit of gain. In saying that England might favor the independence of the Philippines, Rizal was not paying tribute to British virtue, but acknowledging the eternal truth that nations, like men, often act according to their profit. He understood that behind every flag of friendship lies the merchant’s hand, and that even freedom, when born in the shadow of empire, is not without the whisper of exchange.

The meaning of this quote lies in Rizal’s realism — his awareness that political independence is never achieved in isolation. He knew that the liberation of one nation often becomes the opportunity of another. For in the theater of world affairs, power shifts not through sentiment but through commerce, that invisible thread that binds all empires. England, master of the seas, ruled her empire through trade; her strength lay not only in soldiers and ships, but in the reach of her merchants. Rizal, ever the student of history, foresaw that if the Philippines broke free from Spanish rule, it would not stand alone — the open ports of an independent nation would beckon other powers hungry for access and influence. Thus, in his wisdom, he warned that independence without vigilance might only exchange one master for many.

The origin of these words can be traced to Rizal’s reflections during the late 19th century, a time when the world was divided among empires. The Philippines, under the yoke of Spain for more than three centuries, was beginning to stir with dreams of nationhood. Yet Rizal, ever the scholar and reformer, studied not only his country’s struggle but the movements of the great powers that surrounded it. He knew of England’s dominance in Asia — her hold over India, Hong Kong, and Singapore — and he saw how her merchants prospered wherever trade was free and colonies were weakened. In his letters and essays, Rizal often spoke of freedom not as an abstract virtue, but as a condition balanced between ideals and interests. His observation about England’s favor was not flattery, but foresight — an understanding that empires disguise ambition in the language of opportunity.

To understand this truth, one might recall the story of the Opium Wars in China. There too, England came not with armies of conquest but with ships of trade. When the Chinese sought to protect their sovereignty by restricting the opium trade, Britain answered with cannon fire, forcing open their ports under the guise of “free commerce.” The result was humiliation — treaties that favored England’s merchants and sapped China’s strength for generations. Rizal, who had studied in Europe and seen the consequences of imperial “friendship,” understood this lesson well. He knew that while a free Philippines might escape the chains of Spain, it could easily fall into the nets of global commerce. For true independence, he believed, must be more than the freedom to trade — it must be the freedom to decide one’s own destiny.

Yet Rizal’s tone is not one of despair, but of wisdom and warning. He does not condemn the pursuit of trade, nor the interdependence of nations; rather, he urges his people to meet the world with eyes open. England’s favor, he implies, should be neither feared nor trusted blindly — it should be understood and negotiated with strength and dignity. His insight, though uttered in the age of empires, speaks to every generation: that freedom gained without foresight is a fragile thing, easily bartered away in the marketplace of power. The Philippines, he believed, must rise not as a pawn of commerce, but as a sovereign nation capable of governing its own prosperity.

The lesson of Rizal’s words, therefore, is timeless. He teaches that independence is not a gift granted by others, but a discipline earned through wisdom, unity, and self-reliance. Nations that depend too much on the goodwill of foreign powers risk becoming dependent once more, while those that stand firm in principle command true respect. For even in a world bound by trade and diplomacy, a people must guard the sanctity of their purpose — that their liberty not be sold, nor their soul exchanged for profit. To the modern reader, his voice still resounds: build alliances, but keep your sovereignty sacred; open your ports, but not your conscience.

And so, as the ancients would counsel, let this truth be carved into the hearts of the free: that independence is not the end of struggle, but the beginning of responsibility. The freedom of a nation is sustained not by treaties or trade, but by the character of its people — by their vigilance, integrity, and courage to stand upright among giants. Rizal, who gave his life for that very freedom, understood that the strength of a nation lies not in the favor of empires, but in the unity of its own will. Therefore, let the Philippines, and all nations who cherish liberty, remember this: commerce may fill the coffers, but only principle fills the soul.

And in the end, Rizal’s wisdom remains as radiant as his sacrifice: that while the world may seek its profit in our independence, we must seek in it our honor — for no nation is truly free until it can choose not only its trade, but its truth.