Illustration by Lea Bell Basister

Come February 25, newspapers – or to be more in line with recent times – social media feeds drown in entries commemorating the four-day bloodless revolution that transpired in the streets of Epifanio de los Santos Avenue, in what would be one of the most important moments in Philippine history. And as social media, given its nature to offer a platform where everyone can express their opinions, the People Power Anniversary becomes a hot topic for debates and arguments in regards to the essence of the revolt. So much so that, sometimes, it becomes a classic clash of politics and colors.

Through the years, the meaning of EDSA has either been rewritten, reinterpreted, and, at times, deliberately distorted or a combination of all mentioned. Some who decided to fight back from tyranny hail it as the triumph of democracy, while others, who are indoctrinated with the ‘Bagong Lipunan’ of the Marcos regime dismiss it as an overrated event that failed to bring real change in the present. For those who lived through it, the memories remain vivid—millions of Filipinos standing side by side, driven not by political allegiance but by a collective desire for freedom. But for a generation that never witnessed it firsthand, the revolution exists only in history books, news clippings, and the never-ending discourse that unfolds online.

Now, I myself did not get to witness the protests firsthand (though I wish I had), but that does not mean I am unaffected by its legacy. I grew up in a country whose democracy was restored because of those four days in 1986. That the Filipinos, after years of oppression, were able to unite and reclaim their voice is something that should never be taken for granted. And it pains me to see how easy it is for others to dismiss history and treat it as nothing more than a political weapon.

Over time, the revolution has become a symbol twisted to fit different agendas. The yellow that once stood for defiance has been reduced to a mere political label. The names that once rallied the people have turned into brands, their significance debated rather than remembered. What was once a movement of the masses now risks being seen as just another partisan spectacle, when in truth, it was the people—not the politicians—who made EDSA what it was.

Lest we forget that People Power was never about a single political party. It was about ordinary Filipinos who stood up when it mattered most. It was about the factory workers, the teachers, the students, the clergy, and the vendors who risked their lives not for any politician, but for the belief that democracy should be more than a word on paper. And that is what we must hold on to—not the colors, not the sides, but the spirit of what they fought for. We cannot allow history to be remembered only through the lens of who benefits from it the most. The essence of EDSA was never meant to be owned by one group or weaponized against another. It was the enduring proof that power belongs to the people and that unity, when grounded in purpose, has the strength to shake a nation.

But perhaps the greatest tragedy is not the attempt to rewrite history—it is the ease with which people forget. When we reduce EDSA to a yearly argument or the stubborn debate about whether it was the Aquinos or the Marcoses who drove the country into the mess it has become, when we see it as just another anniversary instead of a reminder of what collective action can achieve, we risk letting its meaning fade into irrelevance.

History does not exist for nostalgia alone. It is a guide, a lesson, a warning. Beyond the noise, beyond the debates, beyond the colors, People Power is, and always will be, about us, about the people.

What happens next is up to us who are willing to stand once again, for something greater than ourselves.

Column by Patrick Joseph Dincol