People Power: Kuwarenta Na, May Kwenta Pa Ba?

As People Power Revolution marks its 40th anniversary this year, we are struck by an absurd realization: if it were a person, it would be eligible to run for presidency.

At forty, it is now deemed by our Constitution (and thus, the Filipino people) as old enough to lead a nation, to be judged by its record, and to be asked what it had become. 

On its birth in 1986, it was defiant, electric–it toppled a dictator. It was born not from a single hero but from millions who refused to surrender their dignity to the rule of a strongman who repeatedly brought the country to its lowest for twenty years, and made billions along the way. It was ordinary people standing on EDSA and other major parts of the country, praying, linking arms, feeding soldiers, and protecting one another. At its infancy, People Power was the radical idea that democracy is not bestowed by the powerful but reclaimed by the people.

Four decades later, it seems just like a fragile memory celebrated by only a few, a forgotten chapter in a textbook. At its supposed maturity, it is mostly forgotten or deemed irrelevant–perhaps due to its perceived broken promise of democracy, perhaps more. At forty, we ought to examine not just the nostalgia (or disappointment) People Power brings, but also its enduring relevance (still). 

Countless propagandas, unfeeling facts, and/or disinformation made it seem farther from us than it actually was. But the circumstances today ask of us to revisit our history and distill the facts of the matter—we are faced with the familiar scene of wealthy and political families clashing over the leadership of the nation, while we suffer on the sidelines. All-time high prices, floored wages, children who can’t read, unemployable graduates…all the while being entertained with the idea that our salvation will be brought about by one person.  

Corruption is not only the theft of public funds. It is also the slow erosion of thruth, memory, and our belief that change is possible.

The promise of People Power has been tested repeatedly by coups, scandals, economic crises, and by strongman nostalgia. Democracy survived, but often in its thinnest form: elections without deep accountability, freedoms without equal access, representation without real redistribution. And the worst irony of all, we are presided over by the leadership of the son of the fallen dictator, and ruled largely by political dynasties of the same vein.

Needless to say, it is the same old story. But perhaps, it is these same old stories that we have to face repeatedly so as to find a solution. If People Power still matters, where is it now?

Thus, we ask if People Power were running for president today, what platform would it carry?

It would speak not only of removing dictators but of dismantling systems that make authoritarianism possible—of a promising law that hinders political dynasties from elected positions. It would insist that democracy must mean, not just periodic voting, but also food on the table, jobs with dignity, justice that is accessible, media that is free, and institutions that serve the public rather than entrenched elites. It would campaign on truth in an age of algorithmic and cultural manipulation. It would defend collective memory against historical distortion.

Thus, People Power resides in our repeated calls for justice.

We have seen a glimpse of when we flooded Luneta and EDSA with calls for accountability and justice amidst the flood control corruptions, with our rants about prices and fares, and with our complaints about a dysfunctional traffic system. All of these are acts of People Power, albeit, not as highlighted as the former actions—because it is individualized. Thus, the differing views on the matter, the enduring fact (at least for the ordinary Filipino) remains: corruption was the object of dissent in People Power. And today is not at all different. 

If corruption continues without resistance, then People Power survives only in memory. If corruption is confronted, then People Power lives.

But People Power is not a person…it is a collective, and it is what we make it to be. At 40, People Power moves beyond a single historic moment. It becomes a responsibility carried forward in daily choices and collective action.

In today’s political climate, we are often forced into false choices, into narratives that tell us we must pick between extremes: Kasamaan or Kadiliman.  Between personalities whose claims to leadership are shaped by legacy, loyalty, and power—often asking us to choose between names rather than principles.

Following Sara Duterte’s declaration of her presidential run in 2028 amid the ongoing pressing of charges on her father’s War on Drugs campaign in ICC, the insinuation against President Marcos, Jr. was clear in her apologies about “helping” to elect the latter.  This serves as a reminder of how power continues to concentrate on singular personalities and dynasties, rather than being exercised as a shared responsibility of a democratic people.

All these political drama while the biggest corruption scandal in Philippine history remains unsolved. With over 540 billion pesos allocated in the program, some say the flood control corruption scandal surpasses even that of Marcos’ ill-gotten wealth in his 20-year regime. 

The biggest corruption scandal is the biggest insult to Filipinos who face increasingly stronger typhoons with climate change claiming thousands of lives, destroying billions of pesos in livelihood, and disrupting lifestyles to otherwise preventable disasters. 

To say “People Power is our President. People Power is our responsibility.” is not to idolize a past long deemed by most of its people as obsolete. It is to declare a standard. A measure. A discipline.

People Power was never about replacing one villain with another hero. It was about transforming the relationship between power and the people. People Power, at its core, is proactive. It builds institutions. It demands transparency. It protects freedoms. It expands participation. It insists that governance must serve the public, not the other way around.

It means asking, in our communities and organizations, and ourselves:

Are we participating, or are we disengaged?
Are we holding leaders accountable, or surrendering to cynicism?
Are we defending truth, or forwarding misinformation?
Are we organizing for justice, or waiting for saviors?

At forty, People Power no longer needs romanticization. It needs renewal.

It is not a monument to visit once a year. It is a muscle that weakens when unused. It lives in everyday civic acts—community assemblies, independent journalism, watchdog work, youth organizing, labor struggles, voter education, standing up to disinformation, choosing integrity in public service.

People Power is not a relic of 1986. It is the best practice of democracy we have. 

And if it is to lead us, it will not do so as a memory but as a movement we choose, again and again, in how we act, how we vote, how we organize, and how we refuse to give up on democracy beyond personalities and beyond fear.