Anting-anting: the secret soul of the Filipino

For the first time since 2013, the Musée du Quai Branly Jacques Chirac, the Paris museum of indigenous art, invited collaborators from the Philippines to present an exhibit on the mysterious objects of power that make up such a large part of Philippine life: the anting-anting.

Any of our Filipino readers will find this word familiar, but we all associate it with different things. Some of us have heard stories of cockfighting enthusiasts giving their birds these amulets to triumph in the ring. Other people remember a relative swearing by their healing powers, even against life-threatening diseases.

Another essential Filipino word is halo-halo: a dessert of wildly different ingredients combined to make a harmonious (and delicious!) whole. We could apply this metaphor to all things Filipino: our culture, our history, our languages are an evolving mix of influences from all over the world.

Our traditions and attitude to anting-anting are no different. Our beliefs, our designs, the way Filipinos use them in daily life, are a mix of Catholic, pagan, animist, even cabbalistic and Masonic beliefs. I was familiar with a lot of casual use of anting-anting, but the intricate symbolism surprised me.

The most popular anting-anting are the ones that look like a Catholic medallion with a distinctly native flavour. Often hand-carved of wood, or hand-beaten metal, with the face of Christ or an image of the Virgin Mary. But among these Western religious icons a diwata or a Bathala will sneak in, made of clay or brass.

Many of the amulets are dedicated via hours-long rituals on Mount Banahaw, tucked in among the caves and waterfalls of this extinct volcano. A speaker played chants over the display - I recognised some hymns in Tagalog that we sang in Mass, but others were unfamiliar.

Anting-anting culture is all about mixing pre- and post-colonial history, plus borrowing some powerful symbols on the side. The evolution of Bathala alongside Christianity is fascinating. Unlike with other religions where old gods were turned into demons or saints, Bathala became the unifying Infinite, a force that encompassed the Catholic Holy Trinity.

Bathala was a great and faceless presence that symbolised the whole universe, thereby being greater than any being one could call God. At the same time, there was a funny local legend that said when the Trinity called Bathala to convert, the god hid himself and would only stick out his little finger to be baptised.

The fact that Filipinos could believe both these things explains the essence of anting-anting: connecting the bearer to a power that created the universe, channeled through a small object that they could call on as they pleased.

There is a strong sense of craft and skill in anting-anting: just because it's DIY doesn't mean it should be crude or badly made. In fact people believe that the more intricate and symbol-laden a piece is, the more power it confers.

T-shirts, flags, and wall decorations are covered with religious icons, mystic symbols, and spells. Some believers go as far as to tattoo themselves with these incantations.

National figures become elevated to the status of religious icons. Jose Rizal, the Philippine national martyr who penned two of our literary classics, has several anting-anting carved in his likeness and a cult of worshippers.

Splinter groups such as the Ciudad Mystica de Dios or the Haring Bakal believe the anting-anting give them power to carry out divine purpose.

Anting-anting are a tiny but powerful window into the psyche of a people whose faith, creativity and adaptability have created a strange, beautiful mysticism that continues to compel visitors from all over the world.