The town calls Tasio a lunatic; he accepts the title cheerfully, since it exempts him from being understood by his persecutors. He is the novel’s figure of the ilustrado — the enlightened man born a century too early, whose only possible correspondent is posterity itself.
Watching the cornerstone laid for Ibarra’s school, Tasio delivers a vertiginous prophecy: he imagines archaeologists of a future Philippine civilization puzzling over the ruins of the colonial age, explaining to schoolchildren the incredible fact that a people once sent across the world for permission to govern itself.
The device does serious philosophical work. By treating the colonial present as a future past, Rizal denies it the appearance of permanence that is every regime’s deepest defense. Institutions that feel eternal are shown to be episodes; the judgment the censor forbids in the present is delegated to a tribunal no censor can reach. It is the Enlightenment’s appeal to posterity, sharpened by a colonial subject who knew his true readers had not yet been born.
Tasio’s meditation on the ruins is delivered at the laying of the schoolhouse cornerstone in Chapter XXXII; his defense of writing for posterity is in Chapter XXV.