Three voices

It’s been a long time – 40 years, four decades. Most of the major characters of that historical miracle have passed on, as have many among the millions who made EDSA their “home” for three or four days.

A prelate has warned of “moral fatigue;” have all the corruption and toxic politics and fake news numbed us to the point of apathy? Are our people still willing and ready to step up and add voice to the call for change, for a better society and a brighter future?

As Feb. 25 was drawing near, the question begged to be asked: is EDSA still relevant, does it still mean anything? In conversations among friends, I found the answer: YES – young, old and those in between, the Filipino is still hopeful that we can effect change towards a better Philippines – working together, by the grace of God, as we did 40 years ago. Let me share here three voices:

Human frailty held up by divine strength

In February 1986, the voices of Cardinal Sin and June Keithley pierced the darkness, calling a nation to courage. What began as a whisper became a roar, as families and friends filled the stretch of EDSA. It was a surreal, overwhelming contrast: the mechanical drone of helicopters overhead, met by the fervent, surging prayers of the people on the ground.

At home, I felt this divide intensely. I was a mother hen, shielding my four children – ranging from three to 16 – watching the terrifying, hovering helicopters on TV while clutching the radio to hear June Keithley’s voice. In those moments, I felt the desperate need to be part of the surging crowds, to witness the revolution firsthand. Instead, I brought the revolution home. Together, we prayed the rosary for safety, for a swift end to the tyranny and for the soldiers – a prayer deeply personal, as I thought of my late father and brother who served in the military.

Now, almost 40 years later, as I approach my 79th birthday and watch my own children raise families of their own, that moment remains unshakeable in my soul. It was a masterclass in citizenship – a profound act of grace where humanity acted, and God fortified us with safety. It was a miracle where flowers were exchanged for guns, and we were cradled in the palm of the Almighty. It was human frailty held up by divine strength.

So, what now? Sometimes, it feels like that miracle has been cast into the dustbin of history. Amidst the echoes of EJKs, scandal-ridden headlines and the terrifying normalization of lies, I have felt the heartbreak of that memory fading. It felt as if truth had lost its dignity and hope was dying.

But – and it is a big, defiant BUT – that 1986 spirit refuses to stay dead. The memory of EDSA is a fire that, even now, brings us back together. It is the awakening of the sleeping giant within us. It reminds me that we are still capable of action, still bound to defend our only homeland.

EDSA was not just a moment in 1986; it is a timeless promise that when we hold on to God and each other, we can move mountains. – Rosalina Ora’a-Fuentes is an educator and through her Organization Development practice has introduced Appreciative Inquiry to different settings in the Philippines and in ASEAN.

An unfinished journey

Forty years is long enough for emotion to soften and memory to settle. What remains of EDSA is no longer the noise of those days but the meaning of what was reclaimed. In 1986, power changed hands without civil war. A people long accustomed to fear chose instead to restore constitutional rule. That moral reset still matters.

EDSA did not promise perfection. It promised restoration. It reopened elections, revived a free press and reaffirmed that sovereignty resides in the people. For a nation wary of institutions, it was a reminder that laws and limits still counted.

Revolutions remove rulers; institutions take generations to build. That distinction is crucial. The weaknesses that persisted after 1986 – dynastic politics, patronage networks, corruption that adapted rather than disappeared – were not proof that EDSA failed. They showed that structural reform demands patience, discipline and sustained political will.

Forty years later, the assessment is mixed. We have seen peaceful transfers of power. We have watched courts assert themselves and citizens mobilize. Yet we have also witnessed institutional fatigue and the erosion that comes when vigilance wanes. Democracy, it turns out, is not self-executing.

That is why EDSA remains relevant, not as nostalgia but as standard. Memory can inspire but it cannot substitute for work. Nostalgia is not a strategy. Neither is democracy a mere anniversary. Commemoration alone does not strengthen institutions. Civic virtue and civic discipline do.

EDSA was not the culmination of democratic life; it was the reopening of it. The journey did not end on that highway in 1986. It merely began anew.

At 40, the question is no longer whether it was worth it. The more searching question is whether we have sustained what it made possible and whether we are prepared, again and again, to finish what we started. – Edwin Lacierda was presidential spokesman during the Benigno Aquino III administration, 2010-2016. He is a lawyer, fintech startup founder and corporate consultant.

The voice of the youth

To this day, I am struck by the thought that the EDSA I know – the one l endure for hours in traffic, pressed shoulder to shoulder with strangers in a bus heavy with sweat, diesel fumes and impatience – is the very same road where thousands once gathered to unseat a dictator. It feels almost unreal that a place now defined by congestion once held a revolution. But forcing a dictator out of power is one thing; keeping the gates of democracy open afterward is another.

Perhaps that is why People Power, to me, is hope. I return to it when studying in UP under the banner of “free education” feels hollow against the demands of daily survival, when housing and job insecurity loom over my family, when poverty reveals itself not as a personal failing but as the result of systemic injustice. People Power reminds me that collective action can shake institutions. The waves have crashed onto these shores before. And when the masses awaken, they will rise once more. – Kristine Claire Velasco is a Journalism student at the University of the Philippines-Diliman.