Forty Years: People Power on Divided Streets

Four decades after the first EDSA People Power Revolution, we gather to commemorate unity—yet we find ourselves split in two.

On February 25, 1986, the nation moved as one body. Prayer beads hung from trembling hands beside fists raised in defiance. Civilians stood in front of armored tanks with nothing but faith and fury. Across EDSA, a single, thunderous message rose above fear: Tyranny must fall. That was people power in its purest sense—collective will overcoming fear—a unity so deep it shook a dictatorship to its knees.

And yet, at forty, the commemoration of that unity fractures into two separate rallies along the same historic highway. 

Instead of a singular, unified show of collective resistance, this year’s observance unfolds in parallel: an EDSA40 alliance program near the EDSA Shrine and a separate demonstration by the Trillion Peso March Movement (TPMM) at the People Power Monument. What should have been a universal call for accountability and renewal has instead unveiled the harsh truth: the opposition itself is divided.

The breakdown of talks for a unified stage has led to parallel protests occupying the same symbolic space but speaking in divergent tones. And unfortunately, their divergence isn’t just logistical; it is epistemological—a split in what we believe People Power should be today.

Undoubtedly, this schism is not merely symbolic. It strips bare a painful reality: the contemporary opposition cannot even unify around the basic principles of democratic accountability and justice. It cannot agree on whether the political crisis in the Philippines is merely about corruption or whether it runs deeper, into the very soul of the state and its ruling elites.

Some within TPMM have been adamant about excluding calls for the removal of President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. from their agenda—on the grounds that such demands could benefit Vice President Sara Duterte or veer into “unconstitutional” rhetoric. Others within the alliance fear any talk of radical change will invite state repression or misunderstanding. The result? A fractured cry that neither fully confronts power nor offers a meaningful vision for systemic reform.

And then there is the intervening variable that looms over all Philippine politics right now: the looming 2028 presidential campaign of Vice President Sara Duterte. Despite facing impeachment efforts and legal controversies, she recently announced her intention to run for the presidency—an announcement that both energizes and complicates opposition politics. 

Indeed, this development matters because it reframes how various opposition forces perceive their goals. For some, the struggle is not just about accountability; it is about political positioning. Factions that once marched under the same banners now calculate whether their rallying cries will help or hurt the prospects of a future presidential contender—whether that contender is a symbol of resistance or a beneficiary of tactical avoidance.

But this is exactly where the inflection point becomes tragic: when movements that claim to defend People Power begin to act as though political strategy outweighs democratic principle. When calls for unity dissolve because one faction blinks at naming names or confronting shared power structures, we lose more than cohesion—we lose the meaning of People Power itself.

What is EDSA if not a reminder that democracy is not a spectator sport but an act of collective conviction? That conviction cannot be half-measured or calibrated to political winds. It must be unambiguous and unapologetic about demanding a system that holds even the highest officials accountable, whether they wear yellow ribbons or political machines. 

If we allow these divisions to define our commemorations, we risk turning the memory of People Power into a cookie-cutter trope: a convenient backdrop for protests that masquerade as resistance but are content with half-truths and guarded condemnations. We risk an EDSA that becomes less about unity and more about which political faction wins the optics. And that is a betrayal of the millions who once stood shoulder to shoulder, regardless of class, creed, or party, for the simple yet profound idea that power must answer to the people, not the other way around.

Some will argue that diversity of tactics is healthy in a democracy. That multiple rallies simply reflect pluralism. That disagreement is not disunity. There is truth in that. A mature democracy should accommodate nuance and debate. But nuance must not become paralysis. Pluralism must not become fragmentation so deep that it blunts collective force. When movements commemorating unity cannot find common ground on fundamental democratic demands, the symbolism becomes painfully ironic.

Forty years hence, we must ask not only who we are protesting, but why. Because if we are honest, EDSA was never a spectacle of flawless leaders or a gathering of identical beliefs; it was a convergence of conscience. Farmers stood beside students, clergy beside workers, conservatives beside progressives, even segments of the military crossing lines they once obeyed, all bound by a singular conviction that authoritarian rule had no place in a free society. The miracle of 1986 was not ideological uniformity but moral alignment, a unity forged not from agreement on everything, but from agreement on what could no longer be tolerated.

If that thought stirs us, it should. As the true commemoration of EDSA at forty would be more than a parade of dissents. It would be a recommitment to unified struggle, a rejection of cynicism, and a clear articulation of a future where power is held accountable—not arbitrarily, not selectively, but unequivocally. It would demand a politics that transcends personality and embraces principle. 

If the anniversary of People Power is to have meaning for the next forty years, then our divisions cannot be interpreted as mere tactical differences. They must be understood as a call for self-reflection: a call to rebuild unity not for its own sake, but for the sake of a democracy that the prophets of EDSA envisioned—courageous, uncompromised, and truly for the people. 

“EDSA@40” should not be an anniversary of parallel protests. It should be a renewal of a covenant between the citizen and the state—a covenant that insists: power must be accountable, corruption must be rooted out, and the people must always stand together, especially when confronting the strongest entrenched interests.

Because if the very highway that once carried the weight of millions now mirrors only our divisions, then the real threat to People Power is no longer a dictator in the palace.

It is the people who have betrayed the very power they once wielded, people who have lost the instinct to move as one.

Article: Ariane Claire Galpao

Cartoon: Kaiser Aaron Caya