Every February 25, the Philippines commemorates the EDSA People Power Revolution—an function that toppled a dictator, restored politics and became a worldwide mark of quiet weight.
In 1986, thousands of Filipinos from all walks of life took to the streets, driven by a shared desire for shift. They came armed not with arms but with confidence, prayer and perseverance.
Clad in golden bows and carrying necklaces, they faced down tank and troops, their chants echoing through the money. The action was a testament to the resolve of regular people to free their country from autocratic rule.
This trend did more than just reduce a tyrant; it also established democratic institutions, reinstated free votes, and promised a government that was accountable to the people.
Beyond the Philippines, it sent a strong message that could help other countries fight tyranny. The uprising’s violent character established its place in history, demonstrating that a change may be achieved without using force.
However, as the centuries passed, the strong energy that again filled EDSA has waned. The roads that were once crowded with activists have become less noisy. The annual ceremonies persist, but with a visible reduction in cooperation.
Although the People Power Monument is still in use, its supporters are declining as a result. The recollection continues, but it has lost much of the fervor and intensity that were present in the period immediately following the trend.
The irony of the EDSA memorial has since become unfathomable: the state that recognizes it is now led by the deceased family.
President Ferdinand” Bongbong” Marcos Jr., the son of the late tyrant Ferdinand Marcos Sr., is in charge of a country that previously rejected his father’s rule in an unprecedented show of social power.
Since Marcos Jr. became president in 2022, his administration has veered cautiously to the EDSA memorial. The current government has chosen to follow a more subdued strategy than previous administrations, which included holding huge events, making strong statements, and yet holding wreath-laying rites at the People Power Monument.
Official claims acknowledge the time, but they lean on topics of “unity” and “moving ahead”, avoiding direct references to the republic’s value.
In fact, Marcos Jr. actually removed February 25 from the roster of national holidays in 2023.
Proclamation No. Conspicuously omitting EDSA People Power as a unique non-working trip, 368, which downgraded its significance in the regional calendar.
Despite the negative people effect, it remains the same this time, as Proclamation No. 727 declares EDSA a unique working vacation. This move farther signaled the president’s silent effort to push EDSA into the history of national consciousness.
This shift in tone is not sudden. It reflects the difficult balance of a Marcos president, which allows acknowledging EDSA without supporting its fundamental message.
After all, to fully accept the significance of EDSA would mean to forgive the Marcos family’s history mistakes, which they have consistently dismissed or blatantly denied.
A government that regards EDSA as a traditional event but does not reconfirm its aspirations is a paradox that defines the current political climate.
But is simple confirmation enough? Or does reducing EDSA to a program, depoliticized event diminish its real meaning?
Eroding EDSA’s tradition
Celebrations are more than just ceremonies, they are functions of social memory. They affirm the principles that a country maintains and serve as reminders of lost fights for its citizens. But over time, the way a nation remembers an event is change—either through continuous indifference or deliberate sophistry.
In the case of EDSA, both causes seem to be at enjoy. On one hand, there is the normal passage of time. The revolution took place roughly four decades ago, and many of those who took part in it have passed away.
For younger generations who did not experience the tyranny, EDSA is not a specific experience but a traditional account, which is extremely up in the modern era.
On the other hand, there is the effective rewriting of history. The Marcos family has spent years attempting to change consumer perception through social media, social effect, and even legal actions.
The dictatorship’s years in power, when widely regarded as a time of persecution and financial mismanagement, are then painted by some as a “golden age”. Traditional facts —such as human rights abuses, fraud, and cronyism—are dismissed as mere social problems.
The deterioration of EDSA’s tradition is most visible in public opinion. A growing number of Filipinos, especially the youth, show frustration with the revolution.
Some see it as a failed claim, pointing to frequent poverty, corruption, and injustice. People believe it was an exaggerated function, exaggerated by its recipients. This despair has made a fertile environment for reactionary narratives to emerge, allowing the Marcos family to regain control through political means.
Does it matter if the social remembrance of EDSA disappears? If Filipinos little longer see it as related, does that reduce its value?
The solution lies in what EDSA absolutely represented. It was never really about toppling a dictator—it was about restoring democratic organizations, ensuring responsibilities, and preventing the transfer of autocratic rule.
To ignore EDSA, or to decrease it to an annual note, is to undermine the pretty safeguards it fought to restore.
Politics is no self-sustaining. It requires attention, active involvement, and a devotion to truth. When background is forgotten or distorted, the same faults become easier to repeat.
Current and upcoming abuses become more simple to defend when history abuses are dismissed as misconceptions. The EDSA’s rules are being broken, but today’s failure to uphold them puts the future in danger.
What EDSA may suggest currently
A Marcos administration that oversees EDSA anniversary celebrations should not just be an unpleasant contradiction; it should also be a time for reflection. If the trend is to be related, it must be understood beyond its metaphor.
EDSA was never a perfect trend. It did never miraculously resolve the most pressing issues in Spanish society, nor did it maintain long-term reform.
However, it demonstrated that social activity has energy. It showed that ordinary individuals, when united, you hold the powerful responsible. That session may be learned over time.
Instead of being seen as a locked chapter in history, EDSA must be seen as an empty struggle. The battle for transparency, good governance and human rights did not end in 1986 —it continues today.
And in a social environment where the majority of the country’s energy is still largely in the hands of the elite, where record is constantly rewritten to fit the ruling course, and where democracy is constantly under scrutiny, EDSA serves as a reminder that the people still have the authority to determine the future of their country.
In a time when people want to ignore EDSA, remembering it is more than just marking a day on the calendar; it is also important to protect the lessons from history from intentional erasure.
The reduction of standard commemorations, the fall of reactionary narratives and the public’s growing separation from EDSA all stage to a dangerous reality: when traditional truths are left undefended, they become pliable to the whims of those in power.
As the storage of EDSA fades in the regional consciousness, we may ask—what happens when a nation chooses to ignore its own revolution? And more importantly, who benefits when we do?
The Marcos administration must do more than just acknowledge EDSA on the calendar if it truly respects it. It must uphold the democratic principles that EDSA stood for: truth, accountability and justice. Anything less would make every February 25 hollow ceremonial, one that honors a cause without actually honoring it.
Chalize Penaflor, 24, is a policy researcher, intersectional feminist and human rights advocate. She received her BA in sociology from the University of the Philippines and concentrates on legislative research, policy analysis, and program evaluation in the public sector.