Even before I went to college, a question had been in my mind that I was determined to ask my professor as soon as I enter architecture, "What is Philippine Architecture?" Or "Is there really a Philippine Architecture?"

And that just wasn't me. Every webinar and talk about Philippine Architecture that I participated in, in my three years as an architecture student, someone always asks the speaker, "For you, what is Philippine Architecture?" And the one who asked the questions intends to hear answers in the form of, for example, when you say Japanese Architecture, in this case, you'll probably say torii or tatami mats. In the case of Philippine Architecture, the questioner probably would want to hear one-liner answers like 'thatched steep roofs' or 'on stilts.'

A most common thought when someone says Philippine Architecture is Bahay Kubo or nipa hut. If you asked me during my first year as an architecture student, what, for me, is Philippine Architecture, I would reply that. Bahay Kubo.

And the Filipino architects during the post-colonial world expositions after the Second World War had the same thing in mind.

(Always) the Bahay Kubo or Nipa Hut

World Expositions are one of the biggest events worldwide and have been going on for centuries now. It is a chance for people around the world to experience various countries all in one location. For participating countries, it is a chance for them to, in the words of Ar. Royal Pineda, "to showcase their variety to the world," in the form of pavilions.

Fun fact: Eiffel Tower was actually a product of the 1889 World Exposition.

Ar. Cabalfin wrote how significant a pavilion is to a nation, "These pavilions are important structures for nations, as these are physical manifestations of a country's image. Directed to a foreign audience, the national pavilions not only serve as promotional vehicles for the country, but also communicate the nation's standing in the international stage."

After the Second World War, the Philippines had become an independent country for the first time again in more than 350 years. The Philippines had been under Spain for 333 years, 48 years under the Americans, and nearly 4 years under the Japanese. It was then the talks of defining Philippine Architecture resurface after years of imperial colonial architecture.

It made sense that the Filipino architects back then thought of looking back to our pre-colonial past when defining what Philippine Architecture is.

Philippine Pavilion at the 1958 Brussels' Universal Exposition. Source: "Bureau of Public Works Bulletin," 1958, via Edson Cabalfin.

Our first post-colonial pavilion, the Philippine Pavilion in the 1958 Brussels' Universal Exposition is a representation of what the architects of that time think of what Philippine Architecture is. It is a modern reinterpretation of Bahay Kubo, a pre-colonial structure found mostly in Luzon; seen on its characteristics such as on-stilts and gabled roofs.

In his paper entitled "The Other's Other: Self-Exoticism and National Identity in Post-Colonial Philippine Architectures, 1946-1998," architect and researcher Edson Cabalfin wrote about how our need to identify Filipino Architecture led us to seek our pre-colonial architecture past which, in turn, became anti-colonial. But that in itself is a problem- our self-exotism and the narrative of anti-colonist.

"In the process of using modern architecture to define and configure a national identity, the architecture appropriated and derived designs, ideas and concepts from indigenous Philippine cultural communities. This, however, was not simply a neutral act of appropriation, as issues of identity politics and power relations come into play. Who gets to choose which ones to include and exclude in the national narrative? Which cultures are highlighted and which ones are effaced? How are these identities represented and communicated?"

In a country composed of thousands of islands and even more than thousands of cultures, is the Bahay Kubo really the Filipino Architecture?

Throughout my, currently, three years as an architecture student, I studied a lot about Philippine pre-colonial architecture. Today, I am more than aware that Bahay Kubo is only one of our pre-colonial architecture. There are more types of pre-colonial architecture depending on where in the Philippines it is located. Although they do have similarities because ultimately, our ancestors are designing as well in consideration with our tropical climate. Nevertheless, for me, focusing on Bahay Kubo as our representative of Philippine Architecture does not actually encompass what Philippine Architecture really is.

With thousands of cultures in our land, who gets to decide which ones should be the ones we should showcase to the world and which ones aren't? Who gets to decide that it is the Bahay Kubo of the Tagalog and not the Jinjin of the Ivatans?

Thus, the question of "What is Philippine Architecture?" that I previously sought the answer to is not answerable with Bahay Kubo like I previously thought. It is so much more.

An answer to my question came a few days later in the form of the Philippine Pavillion in the Expo 2020 in Dubai.

Redefining Modern Philippine Architecture

Last September at a virtual research conference, I had the opportunity to present a research paper I co-authored together with my friends/bloc mates with a topic about the history of architecture in the Philippines

During the Q&A after my presentation, Professor Jaideep Chatterjee, Executive Dean of the Jindal School of Art and Architecture asked me, "How can we tell the stories of architecture without the constant dialogic rejection and acceptance of Western civic nationalism?"

I never had the perfect answer to him. I actually stuttered and went blank. During that time, I haven't even read Edson Cabalfin's paper talking about self-exoticism, hence I never really consider the ongoing architectural narrative of rejection and acceptance of western architecture.

A few days later, the question is still on my mind as I began reading furthermore works regarding the history of architecture in the Philippines by Ar. Gerard Lico and Ar. Edson Cabalfin. With luck, I also participated in this virtual talk by Ar. Royal Pineda, the man who is behind the Philippine Pavillion in Expo 2020 in Dubai.

The previous post-colonial Philippines pavillions derived concepts from our pre-colonial architecture. But in this pavilion, it is different.

We may define Philippine Architecture as thatched steep roofs or on stilts but Ar. Royal Pineda thought it differently.

Bangkota

Bangkota. Photo source: Walid Nohra

Here is Bangkota, the Philippine Pavillion for the World Expo 2020 in Dubai.

Bangkota is an old Tagalog term for coral reefs. Throughout their research, Ar. Pineda and his team found out that the Philippines is actually the "center of the center" of the ecological biodiversity in the whole world. From here, he used this information to build on the Philippine Pavillion for Expo 2020 in Dubai.

The form of the pavilion is inspired by coral reefs. As soon as you see Bangkota, you can't see any trace of Bahay Kubo or any other pre-colonial architecture.

What I love the most about Bangkota is that it didn't showcase the architecture of just a few cultures in our country. Something that no one would say is from the Tagalog or Muslim or Cebuano or Ilocano or Igorot, but rather simply just Filipino.

Bangkora tells a narrative that isn't anti-colonist and self-exoticism. It uses the narrative of coral reefs, something that is what all Filipinos are their own. Ar. Royal Pineda did not limit the Philippine Architecture to thatched roofs and stilted houses because, again, he firmly believes that is not only what the Philippines is.

Who decided that thatched roofs and stilted houses are what composes Philippine Architecture? Who decides which indigenous cultures are highlighted and which ones should stay behind the spotlight?

With Bangkota, Ar. Royal Pineda chose to display a narrative of the Philippines that was just simply Filipino.

As Mr. Edson Cabalfin wrote at the very end of his paper, "...modern architecture, as it is embedded within the post-colonial project, should not be dismissed as merely appendages or extensions of European-American histories, but instead should be recognized as having histories on their own. In the final analysis, the conservation of modern architecture then should become more of an empowering strategy for postcolonial nations, a testament to their struggles against colonial oppression and a celebration of their coming to terms with their own identities within the global setting."

And that is exactly what Ar. Royal Pineda did. He used modern architecture, not in a way to self-exoticize but used as a tool to showcase our own variety, Philippines, to the whole world. It's very rare to hear and see a narrative of modern architecture that isn't Western-centric or one culture-specific but one that we could, collectively, really call our own.

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