By Kiera De Guzman

On February 22, 1986, something never before known or experienced in the Philippines unfurled along Epifanio de los Santos Avenue — not tanks rolling triumphantly nor the firing of gun shots amid chaos, but the quiet sea of ordinary people pressing forward, rosaries at hand, flags raised, united by the shared longing for freedom. In the span of four days, millions stood shoulder to shoulder from sunrise to sunset, and by February 25, 1986, their voices marked a significant change in history. 

40 years after the peaceful uprising known as the EDSA People Power Revolution, the road remains etched not just in concrete but in the stories told by those who were there. And even now, they stand as physical reminders of courage, while each retelling keeps alive a story of collective will that still calls the youth today to fight against injustice four decades on. 

Planting Seeds of Defiance

President Ferdinand Marcos signed Proclamation No. 1081 on September 21, 1972, placing the Philippines under martial law and claiming it was necessary to address communist and Muslim insurgent threats.

By concentrating power in his own hands, he sidestepped the constitution, silencing independent courts and free press; making the government work mainly to serve his own control instead of serving the people. Marcos promised a new society under what he called a “constitutional authoritarianism,” but in reality was a campaign of repression that silenced voices and instilled fear. 

“I was a teenager then, in 3rd year high school at Ateneo, so my ‘before EDSA’ memory is a mix of normal student life and a constant sense that the country was living under a heavy ceiling,” reflected Joel Santos, an Ateneo alumnus from the class of 1992. He says that even though life went on with classes and routines, there was an underlying tension in society — a quiet fear that shaped how people talked, walked, and thought about their future. “You felt the fear even if you couldn’t always name it: people watched what they said, families discussed politics carefully, and the idea that powerful people could do things with no consequences felt real.”

Sir Luis Melosantos, another Ateneo alumnus and math teacher, shared a vivid childhood memory that reveals how even small restrictions under martial law affected everyday life. “I hated the curfew. I would watch Voltes 5 and then suddenly it was cut off, that was actually my first experience getting mad.” He had said, revealing how strict curfews and censorship didn’t just limit politics, but also harmless things like children’s television programs. One famous example was the popular anime Voltes V, which aired regularly until it was abruptly shut down in 1979 due to its themes of restriction that made the regime uneasy. 

And that feeling didn’t just stop in childhood, as they grew older, that irritation and frustration deepened into a sharper awareness of the restrictions and injustices around them. 

“So when I was in high school up to my 4th year, it wasn’t really that big of a deal for me. Until Ninoy Aquino got assassinated and in college up to EDSA, that was when my involvement in the political league heightened,” Sir Gabriel Mallillin, Ateneo alumnus and Media and Information Literacy teacher, recounted. The killing of senator Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr. on August 21, 1983, a prominent opponent of the Marcos regime, shocked the nation and intensified public anger and calls for change. 

“And when Ninoy Aquino was shot a few years before EDSA, it didn’t feel like an isolated tragedy; it felt like proof that the country had reached a breaking point,” Santos had emphasized, necessitating the noticeable shift that fueled the rise of a people-powered movement that eventually brought millions to EDSA in 1986.

But this shift wasn’t driven solely by the assassinations of prominent figures; it was also deeply shaped by the everyday realities and personal traumas experienced by ordinary people living under martial law.

For Dr. Manuel Dayrit, Ateneo alumnus and Senior Research Fellow & former Dean at the Ateneo School of Medicine and Public Health, the terror of martial law wasn’t just something he learned about later in life, it was something he personally lived through. As he recalls, “I was editor of the Guidon, I knew a lot of campus editors and heads of the student councils who had actually gone underground. Some of them were killed. I had friends who had joined the underground. And working in Mindanao, you would come across people working in the underground. We were under surveillance by the military at the time because of our work in the community.”

His testimony underscores that the brutal reach of martial law extended far beyond headline assassinations. It impacted the everyday choices of young Filipinos, shaping not just their political awareness but their very survival. Such personal stories help explain why many Filipinos eventually reached a breaking point, the prolonged repression and abuse eventually paved the way for a mass movement that sought not just reform, but the restoration of democracy itself. 

The Power of the People 

This growing tide of protest, fueled by years of lived oppression, would soon reach its climax in the form of the People Power Revolution, a peaceful uprising that not only reshaped the nation’s political landscape but the hearts of many. 

“It was the feeling that history had cracked open — like the country was being given a narrow window to reclaim itself. Ninoy’s assassination had already awakened something deep, and by the time EDSA happened, it felt like the accumulated grief, anger, and longing for dignity finally had a place to go,” Santos reflected on the overwhelming emotions that enveloped everyone during the revolution, capturing how the atmosphere of both fear and uncertainty blurred individual experiences into a shared feeling of hope.“What was going through my mind was simple but intense: This is our chance. We can’t just watch. And even as a student, I felt responsibility.”

The EDSA uprising marked not only a powerful moment of protest, but also nation-wide unity. In those days, millions of Filipinos set aside their differences and stood together in peaceful solidarity, united as one nation and by a shared desire for freedom. 

“It was a significant experience because you could see that everybody was there: the young and old, professionals, the unemployed, the religious, everybody was there. Whole families, even children,” Sir Melosantos recalled, signifying more than just numbers but millions of ordinary citizens, regardless of age, occupation, or status, recognizing a shared stake in the nation’s future. “In the very spirit of expectation, there was much expectation that something was going to change everything.” 

At its core, EDSA carried a multitude of emotions. But the word expectation, refers to the strong belief or anticipation about what might happen in the future. A shared feeling of mixed emotions, unsure of what was to come but carrying a hope that it was for the  better. 

“It was a tense situation. I was naively hopeful that things would turn out well. I knew afterwards when people reflected on their stories and pictures were shown, how people faced down the tanks. I realized how close we were to disaster. Marcos could have had EDSA bombed, and in fact it was said that one of his generals actually proposed it,” Dr. Dayrit reflected, capturing just how fragile that moment in time truly was. Though the People Power Revolution is celebrated for its peaceful character, the reality on the streets of EDSA was filled with uncertainty and danger: protestors stood in front of tanks and armed forces, helicopters spun overhead and the people were scared that any moment could have been their last. 

“There was a call for the ranks of Ateneo to barricade C5 corner Bonny Serrano. Ateneo was divided into two, those who were in EDSA and those who were the barricade. I was part of the barricade. We were the ones who would block the tanks,” Sir Mallillin had said, and what he describes wasn’t simply just a symbolic gesture, but an example of a practical and courageous form of civic resistance. Tens of thousands of Filipinos in the streets created what were essentially human walls to stop tanks and armored units from advancing or attacking the defenders of Camp Crame and Camp Aguinaldo. 

But for those who were there, there was no hesitation in risking their lives. They stood firm not just for themselves, but for the future of the Filipino people. Their presence in the streets of EDSA has become more than a historical moment; it has become part of the nation’s living memory, one that continues to be honored and commemorated decades later.

“Never Again! Never Forget!”

“That was 40 years from now, and all I can say is that I was there,” Sir Melosantos said, simple words on the surface, but ones that carry a profound weight of lived history.  His words reflect something deeper: as time passes, the immediacy of those experiences fades from public consciousness, and with it, the understanding of what it truly meant to stand on EDSA that day.  “It’s difficult for you to remember something that you weren’t alive for. But it’s like reading a history book, we look back at it through the people who lived it.”

A moment in time that may not feel as immediate or real to us now as it was to those who lived it — but it was undeniably real. The EDSA People Power Revolution didn’t just change the course of Philippine history by restoring democracy; it also became a powerful symbol of what collective action and force of hearts joined together can achieve.

“Looking back, buti dumaan ako sa ganon. It’s a good thing I was called to do that,” Sir Mallillin evoked, speaking not just to personal gratitude, but to the sense of purpose and historical meaning that many participants feel when they recall their role in the People Power Revolution. For those who were there, the experience was more than a moment of youthful idealism, but a defining point in their lives. 

And today, the legacy of the People Power movement remains deeply relevant. As persistent problems like corruption and inequality continue to challenge the Philippines, they can sometimes pull our attention away from what matters most, which is,  nationwide unity and accountability. 

“EDSA was quite a long time ago, 40 years ago. But I’d  like people who didn’t experience it to know that the EDSA revolution showed the Filipino at his or her very best. In fact we were an example to the world for peaceful change, so we shouldn’t forget that. It means that we are capable of very great things and we should remember the legacy of EDSA as the Filipino at their very best,” Dr. Dayrit expounded, this example hasn’t been confined to the Philippines alone. In the years that followed, people around the world took note of how ordinary citizens, united in a shared purpose and committed to peaceful resistance, could bring about meaningful political change, and today this historic event continues to stand as a symbol of hope, reminding us that even the most daunting challenges can be met with courage, unity, and belief in a better future.

In a time when many struggle to understand the weight of those days, the story of EDSA urges us to remember that freedom and democracy are not guaranteed, but earned and sustained through active engagement. What happened on those streets in 1986 may be decades behind us, but its lessons are as relevant now as they were then.