25-02-2025
Philippines: EDSA, Marcos Jr and the risk of forgetting
Every February 25, the Philippines commemorates the EDSA People Power Revolution—an event that toppled a dictatorship, restored democracy and became a global symbol of peaceful resistance.
In 1986, millions of Filipinos from all walks of life took to the streets, driven by a shared demand for change. They came armed not with weapons but with courage, prayer and determination.
Clad in yellow ribbons and carrying rosaries, they faced down tanks and soldiers, their chants echoing through the capital. The movement was a testament to the power of ordinary citizens to reclaim their nation from authoritarian rule.
This revolution did not just remove a dictator; it reestablished democratic institutions, reinstated free elections and promised a government accountable to the people.
It sent a powerful message beyond the Philippines, inspiring other nations in their struggles against tyranny. The bloodless nature of the uprising cemented its place in history, proving that change could be won without violence.
Yet, as the years passed, the bold energy that once filled EDSA has waned. The streets that had been packed with protesters have grown quieter. The annual commemorations persist, but with a noticeable decline in participation.
The People Power Monument still stands, but the people who once rallied around it have become fewer and less vocal. The remembrance continues, but it has lost much of the urgency and passion that defined it in the years immediately following the revolution.
In recent years, the irony of the EDSA commemoration has become impossible to ignore: the very government that officially recognizes EDSA is now led by the family it overthrew.
President Ferdinand 'Bongbong' Marcos Jr, son of the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos Sr, stands at the helm of a nation that once rejected his father's rule through an unprecedented display of collective power.
Since Marcos Jr took office in 2022, his administration has carefully tiptoed around the EDSA commemoration. Unlike previous administrations that held large events, issued strong statements or even led wreath-laying ceremonies at the People Power Monument, the current government has opted for a more subdued approach.
Official statements acknowledge the date, but they lean on themes of 'unity' and 'moving forward,' avoiding direct references to the revolution's significance.
In fact, in 2023, Marcos Jr took an even bolder step by officially removing February 25 from the list of regular holidays in the country.
Proclamation No. 368, which laid out the official public holidays for 2024, conspicuously omitted EDSA People Power as a special non-working holiday, effectively downgrading its importance in the national calendar.
Despite the negative public reaction, it remains the same this year, as Proclamation No. 727 declares EDSA a special working holiday. This move further signaled the administration's quiet effort to push EDSA into the background of national consciousness.
This shift in tone is not accidental. It reflects the delicate balancing act of a Marcos presidency: recognizing EDSA without endorsing its underlying message.
After all, to fully embrace EDSA's significance would be to acknowledge the sins of the past, something the Marcos family has persistently downplayed or outright denied.
It is a contradiction that defines the current political climate—a government that observes EDSA as a historical event but does not reaffirm its ideals.
But is mere acknowledgment enough? Or does reducing EDSA to a routine, depoliticized event weaken its true meaning?
Commemorations are more than just ceremonies; they are acts of collective memory. They reaffirm the values a nation upholds and remind its citizens of hard-won battles. But over time, the way a society remembers an event can change—either through gradual disinterest or deliberate revisionism.
In the case of EDSA, both forces seem to be at play. On one hand, there is the natural passage of time. The revolution happened nearly four decades ago and many of those who participated in it have passed on.
For younger generations who did not live through the dictatorship, EDSA is not a personal memory but a historical narrative—one that is increasingly contested in the digital age.
On the other hand, there is the active rewriting of history. The Marcos family has long worked to rehabilitate its image, using social media, political influence and even legal action to reshape public perception.
The dictatorship's years in power, once widely regarded as a period of repression and economic mismanagement, are now painted by some as a 'golden age.' Historical facts—such as human rights abuses, corruption, and cronyism—are dismissed as mere political attacks.
The erosion of EDSA's legacy is most evident in public opinion. A growing number of Filipinos, particularly the youth, express disillusionment with the revolution.
Some see it as a failed promise, pointing to persistent poverty, corruption, and inequality. Others believe it was an overblown event, exaggerated by its beneficiaries. This disillusionment has created a fertile ground for revisionist narratives to take hold, allowing the Marcos family to reclaim power through democratic means.
Does it matter if EDSA fades from collective memory? If Filipinos no longer see it as relevant, does that diminish its importance?
The answer lies in what EDSA truly represented. It was never just about toppling a dictator—it was about restoring democratic institutions, ensuring accountability, and preventing the return of authoritarian rule.
To forget EDSA, or to reduce it to an annual footnote, is to weaken the very safeguards it fought to rebuild.
Democracy is not self-sustaining. It requires vigilance, active participation, and a commitment to truth. When history is forgotten or distorted, the same mistakes become easier to repeat.
When past abuses are dismissed as myths, present and future abuses become easier to justify. The failure to uphold EDSA's principles today does not just dishonor the past—it endangers the future.
The irony of a Marcos presidency overseeing EDSA anniversaries should not merely be an uncomfortable contradiction—it should be a call to reflection. If the revolution is to remain relevant, it must be understood beyond its symbolism.
EDSA was not a perfect revolution. It did not magically erase the deep-seated problems of Philippine society, nor did it guarantee lasting reform.
But it proved that collective action has power. It showed that ordinary citizens, when united, can hold the powerful accountable. That is the lesson that must endure.
Rather than viewing EDSA as a closed chapter in history, it must be seen as an unfinished struggle. The fight for transparency, good governance and human rights did not end in 1986—it continues today.
And in a political landscape where power remains concentrated in the hands of a few, where history is rewritten to suit the ruling class, and where democracy is constantly tested, EDSA remains a reminder that the people still hold the power to shape their nation's future.
Remembering EDSA in an era that wants to forget is not just about marking a date on the calendar—it is about safeguarding the lessons of history against deliberate erasure.
The decline of official commemorations, the rise of revisionist narratives and the public's growing detachment from EDSA all point to a dangerous reality: when historical truths are left undefended, they become malleable to the whims of those in power.
As the memory of EDSA fades in the national consciousness, we must ask—what happens when a nation chooses to forget its own revolution? And more importantly, who benefits when we do?
If the Marcos administration truly respects EDSA, it must do more than just recognize it on the calendar. It must uphold the democratic principles that EDSA stood for: truth, accountability and justice. Anything less would render every February 25 a hollow ceremonial—one that commemorates a cause without truly honoring it.
Chalize Penaflor, 24, is a policy researcher, intersectional feminist and human rights advocate. She graduated Magna Cum Laude with a BA in Sociology from the University of the Philippines and focuses on legislative research, policy analysis and program evaluation in the public sector.
