I still find it a bit odd that tomorrow, the 25th, is not a holiday. The Palace declared the EDSA anniversary only as a special working day, a technical downgrade that subtly forces the labor force to move on, as if forgetting were simply a matter of scheduling. Forty years ago, history unfolded along Epifanio de los Santos Avenue, altering the course of a nation. Today, the same date is treated as administratively inconvenient.
For many institutions, particularly in the academe, this decision prompted a pause. Classes are suspended and offices temporarily closed, not in defiance, but in recognition of a responsibility. This is to remember, to teach, and to contextualize the past. Education has always been one of the most potent forms of resistance to historical amnesia. To halt operations, even briefly, is to insist that commemoration is not a symbolic act but a civic duty.
For the ordinary Filipino, however, tomorrow remains an ordinary day. There are deadlines to meet, wages to earn, families to feed. Yet beneath this veneer of routine, something feels different. There is a stirring, subtle but unmistakable, a sudden will to protest. This renewed urge does not emerge from nostalgia alone. It is fueled by anger and frustration, particularly over flood-control projects that were meant to protect communities but instead exposed the deep rot of corruption. When infrastructure designed to save lives becomes evidence of systemic theft, outrage becomes rational, even necessary. Disasters, after all, are no longer just acts of nature; they are symptoms of governance.
The Archdiocese of Cebu has been among the most vocal in declaring its participation in tomorrow’s rally. Their call is not merely political but moral. By urging the faithful and the broader public to join them, they frame protest as a collective examination of conscience. They believe, as many do, that speaking out is not an act of disruption but of responsibility.
Others will also gather, driven by similar convictions. Some will demand accountability for public funds. Others will speak against a system so decayed that wrongdoing has become normalized, almost expected. Over time, this rotting system has eaten away at our collective conscience, dulling outrage and replacing it with resignation. What was once unacceptable slowly becomes routine. History reminds us that resignation is not permanent. EDSA itself was born from fatigue. It was the fatigue from silence, from fear, from abuse of power. People did not gather because it was convenient; they gathered because it was necessary.
Perhaps this is why the will to protest matters more than the designation of a holiday. Protest does not need official permission. It thrives precisely when memory is threatened and justice deferred. Tomorrow may be a working day on paper, but in the streets, it may become something else entirely: a reminder that remembrance is an act, and democracy is sustained not by ceremonies, but by citizens willing to show up. May we all find the will to protest in our own little ways to ensure we continue to enjoy what we are having today.