21/09/2026
๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ฅ ๐๐๐๐๐ก. ๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ฅ ๐๐ข๐ฅ๐๐๐ง.
As we remember the victims of Martial Law, we are reminded that history is not merely a collection of dates, names, and events confined to our textbooks. It is the lived experience of people whose lives were altered by authoritarian rule. They are stories of those who were imprisoned, tortured, those who disappeared, and those who were killed; of families who were left to carry the consequences of violence and loss; and of countless Filipinos who were deprived of their fundamental rights and freedom.
Their experiences must not be reduced to political narratives that seek to minimize, justify, or erase the abuses committed during that period. Remembering them means confronting the human cost of authoritarian rule and recognizing our responsibility as the succeeding generation to uphold historical truth.
Decades may have passed since the declaration of Martial Law, but the questions it left behind remain relevant. What happens when those who suffered are forgotten? What happens when historical atrocities are recast as a period of supposed prosperity while the experiences of its victims are dismissed? What happens when political power returns to the very family associated with the dictatorship?
These questions demand more than silence. The restoration of democracy did not erase the injustices of the past nor bring an end to the continuing pursuit of justice and historical truth. The past cannot simply be separated from the present when political power and the consequences of dictatorship continue to intersect.
We must therefore reject the idea that โrememberingโ is merely an exercise in looking backward. Remembering is a form of vigilance.
For students and young people, especially those whose education is made possible through public institutions, the responsibility to engage with history should extend beyond memorizing what happened. It requires us to examine who held power, who suffered under that power, whose voices were suppressed, and why the consequences of authoritarian rule continue to matter today.
We must examine history critically. We must give victims the honor of being remembered with dignity, and we must recognize that the abuse of power should be questioned rather than normalized.
We remember because the victims deserve more than silence. We remember because their stories belong to the nation. We remember because historical truth must not depend on who currently holds political power. And we remember because freedom cannot be taken for granted.
The end of Martial Law did not erase the lives that were lost, the families that were broken, or the injustices that were committed. Neither should the passage of time be used as justification for forgetting them.
To remember Martial Law is to remember what unaccountable power can do. To defend historical truth is to honor those who suffered for it. To oppose authoritarianism is to refuse to allow the past to be repeated.
May we continue to remember the victims not only with grief, but with vigilance. May we continue to question narratives that seek to sanitize dictatorship. And may we remain committed to a society where no government, no political family, and no individual is placed above accountability.
The victims must not be forgotten.
The truth must not be rewritten.
The lessons of Martial Law must not be abandoned.
๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ฅ ๐๐๐๐๐ก ๐ง๐ข ๐๐๐๐ง๐๐ง๐ข๐ฅ๐ฆ๐๐๐ฃ.
๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ฅ ๐๐๐๐๐ก ๐ง๐ข ๐๐ ๐ฃ๐จ๐ก๐๐ง๐ฌ.
๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ฅ ๐๐๐๐๐ก ๐ง๐ข ๐๐๐ฆ๐ง๐ข๐ฅ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐๐ฉ๐๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ก๐๐ฆ๐ .
We remember. We learn. We remain vigilant.
๐จ: Gwendelene Abecia
โ๏ธ: Aleena Haadiya Rasuman
