The importance of marching onward
I am neither an activist nor a sociologist. I am a nearly 30-something lifestyle writer. But every time I get too lazy to attend these local protests, I think of my aunt. A co-owner of a bakery, during Martial Law, she would protest several times a week throughout the ’80s, years before the EDSA People Power grew to the size it did.
And in effect, she’s proof that slow and steady really does win the race.
While also a part of the women’s group Aware, she is not the activist type in the least. Aware is made up of what many call the “burgis,” meaning middle-class people, similar to those attending recent rallies and now criticized by many.
But really, why apologize for being “burgis?” Civic-minded and liberal, these convent-educated wives of successful businessmen could mix martinis as well as they knew how to stash calamansi in their handbags to protect themselves from tear gas.
Without cellphones or group chats, these fabulous female protesters coordinated rendezvous points over party line telephones, locked arms in front of barricades, and ran from the military and the Metrocom. They knew wrong from right and weren’t afraid to demonstrate against it.
Eleanor Pinugu, in an Inquirer Opinion piece, reminds us that protests do matter, though not always in the way or timeline people expect. She writes, “As difficult as it is to believe at times, protests do work. Political scientists note, however, that their impact does not always unfold in the outcomes and timeline that people imagine… sustained protests slowly erode the foundations of legitimacy that authorities rely on to govern.”
So whenever cynicism creeps in, the memory of my aunt and her friends, who, to this day, are ready to march in their senior years, urges me to persist.
And in this personal way, I’m reminded not to lose hope just yet.
The onset of protest fatigue
In a journal article titled “Protest and Dissent” (2020), Richard Thompson Ford defined protest fatigue as “a sense of weariness and cynicism about social protests.”
It’s been a few months since the Sept. 21 protest against corruption, and with smaller protests in between, it seems like not much has changed. The infuriating convoys of politicians have not stopped, as they continue to stop cars and skip stoplights, accompanied by “hagads” or police on motorcycles. Sitting in cushy Land Cruiser SUVs followed by a stream of Innovas, there seems to be little remorse on the part of politicians.
Tempers are also tested with Zaldy Co’s multi-part video accusing President Marcos Jr. and former Speaker of the House Martin Romualdez of corruption in the billions, with cash ferried in suitcases, although unconfirmed.
Meanwhile, the arrests so far over the ghost flood control projects have been of small fry executives and whistleblowers. No big fish yet. Not to mention unsatisfying SALNs (Statements of Assets and Liabilities, and Net Worth), which were met with skepticism.
Even if the president has launched the Department of Public Works and Highways Transparency Portal, it’s still in its early stages, and we have yet to see its effectiveness.
Filipinos are angry, but they’re tired of being angry. Look online and see netizens shooting down protests in the comments. People want change, but they doubt change is possible.
But still, we’re hoping, with high hopes set for the protests today, Nov. 30, also Bonifacio Day, mobilized by the Trillion Peso March Movement and the Kilusang Bayan Kontra Kurakot (KBKK).
Today, there are anti-corruption rallies from Dagupan to Davao, Baguio to Bacolod, and two major assemblies expected in Metro Manila alone, at the EDSA People Power Monument in Quezon City, and KBKK’s “Baha sa Luneta 2.0” in Rizal Park.
Here are a few things to keep in mind while protesting today, thinking of greater systems, while addressing protest fatigue with realistic standards.
A movie we’ve all seen before
We hang on, hopefully, to the peaceful EDSA People Power Revolution in 1986, which inspired the world with the millions of Filipinos who walked, sang, waited, and prayed for an end to the regime of former dictator Ferdinand Marcos. Then there was EDSA Dos in 2001, when another million rose against Estrada. In between have been marches against pork barrel, extrajudicial killings, jeepney phaseouts, and corruptions so numerous we now refer to them in shorthand like “Hello Garci,” “PDAF,” etc.
Somehow, the recent Sept. 21 protest feels inconsequential compared to these, with attendance only in the hundreds of thousands.
Could it be because of the inconvenient infrastructure traveling between cities that has burnt Filipinos out? Or are people too stuck on their phones, glued to their algorithms? Or is it just that mindset of resignation to the idea that the Philippines is bound to continue to fall into scandal and ineffectiveness?
With such a repetitive cycle between outrage and resignation, perhaps it’s because Filipinos have seen this movie plot before, one too many times.
So the question is, how do we sustain civic action when the plot keeps repeating?
Rejecting the myth of “genetic corruption”
In his article for the week, “Hundred years of war on corruption,” political analyst Richard Heydarian cites sociologist Marco Garrido, who wrote how corruption is often viewed as “genetic to Philippine culture or politics” and as a “generic social problem,” by both lay and academic circles.
This mindset can look at corruption in the Philippines as inevitable—a mindset that easily pulls one into a hole of hopelessness and despair. He argues that corruption in the Philippines is not “genetic,” nor a national curse etched into our post-colonial DNA.
That said, Heydarian recommends not to lose sight of the forest for the trees, and to have a well-rounded analysis, noting that “bad economic policies, namely underinvestment or lack of industrial strategy, can cause far more poverty and misery than even the worst forms of nepo-kid profligacy and individualized graft.”
What can drain people doubly isn’t just the corruption itself, but believing the idea that corruption is inevitable. So it might help to remember that there are bigger gears at work within the system (albeit gears not working very well).
Perhaps, rejecting the myth of “genetic corruption” can give you the gall to keep going and to look beyond corruption to demand systemic change.
Digital burnout
In another article this week, columnist Segundo Eclar Romero calls this moment in time “The Age of the Mustangs.” He writes about the youth-driven, TikTok-native, emotionally charged youth and how they shape public opinion, something very much seen in the last protests touting “One Piece” posters and slogans.
Romero notes how Gen Z criticizes politics at high-speed velocity on the internet through expressions of satire, memes, moral disgust, and viral commentary. He notes how these have ruined reputations more quickly than most traditional media can.
He calls them the “mustangs” who can “provide moral energy and public direction.” On the other hand, he describes the “wagons” as “political parties, bureaucracies, dynastic networks, and… traditional media.”
But at the same time, while mustangs can make a scandal trend, they cannot draft procurement laws. And while they can flood feeds with memes, they cannot audit the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) district.
This creates tension, showing that digital activism is powerful, but incomplete, and that this, too, can lead to fatigue.
“The two forces need each other,” he writes. While the young have the energy and platform to expose corruption with moral leadership, the older systems can, ideally, govern with open ears, with “real reform.”
Perhaps this is another goal to keep in mind while protesting, hoping for what Romero calls “a new democratic cycle,” demanding better structure from the upper echelons of governments, passionate emotions of the youth in hand and at heart.
Strategies for a country on the brink
So how do we keep going? To answer that, we must look backward, inward, and around us.
Backward, to the past protests like the EDSA People Power, by seeing all its best parts and what it did get right and get done effectively. Backward, not to forget all the injustices, the corruption, and the ineffectuality of our socioeconomic systems, both in the past and in recent times. (Take note of the names of politicians and their wicked aides, too.)
Inward, to channel civic duty, your own moral compass, be it as an agnostic, Christian, or of any believing faith. If you’ve got the memories of your own or your loved ones, think of past protests and what they have successfully achieved before.
Around you, look at the DPWH cash stacks, the ghost projects, the impeachments and “un-impeachments,” the memes, and the moral disgust. Look around the country that resembles a nationwide map of corruption, with all the poverty in it.
If you can’t protest or be physically there, volunteer, or join fundraisers and communities. While movements may fade, the communities may very well endure. My tita’s generation, with Aware, never stopped after Martial Law, and continues to organize fundraising and rice drives, monthly. In between, they still seek out the newest restaurants in the city, taste-testing the best martinis. It’s the company of friends and family that makes things sustainable, right?
Protest fatigue is not a sign that Filipinos are weak. Perhaps it shows that Filipinos have been fighting for too long, often without systems that honor their effort. But even so, we show up, we gather, and we rise when history demands it.
And as long as that continues, perhaps in more sustainable forms, the flame stays lit, slowly eroding the faulty foundation that the many corrupt officials in the government rest on.
