by Herman M. Lagon
It takes more than just remembering a date on the calendar to uphold the spirit of the EDSA People Power Revolution. This is why we must salute the schools that suspended classes on February 25, defying the government’s downgrade of the occasion. Their decision is more than symbolic—it upholds the very values of EDSA: truth, democracy, human rights, and social justice. By standing their ground, these institutions and their communities remind us that history is not for those in power to rewrite.
The decision of these schools is not an act of defiance for defiance’s sake. It is a principled stance, a commitment to truth over convenience, and a declaration that education must go beyond textbooks and theories. The universities, colleges, and basic education schools that declared February 25 a non-working day send a strong message: remembrance is an act of resistance, and forgetting is complicity. Their actions mirror what education is truly about—not just producing graduates but molding critical thinkers who can discern, analyze, and uphold what is just.
UST, De La Salle Philippines, UP Cebu, Adamson University, St. Scholastica’s Academy-San Fernando, Imus Institute Inc., Holy Child Catholic School Inc., General de Jesus College, Congregatio Immaculati Cordis Mariae-Philippines [Maryhill School, St. Louis Colleges and Universities, and St. Mary’s University], and the EDSOR Consortium [Xavier School, La Salle Green Hills, Poveda, and Immaculate Conception Academy], among others, stood firm in honoring EDSA’s legacy. Their decision resonates when historical distortion is creeping into the national consciousness. These institutions—including UP Visayas, UP Los Baños, UP Diliman, Ateneo de Manila, Assumption College San Lorenzo, and Phinma that also encouraged their communities to hold alternative classes to commemorate the day—serve as fortresses of truth, refusing to let a legacy built on courage be diluted into irrelevance. In making February 25 a holiday on their own terms, they have drawn the line against forgetting.
Critics may argue that class suspensions are unnecessary because remembrance requires no holiday. But that argument is precisely why these schools’ decisions matter. Remembrance loses its weight if left only to fleeting mentions in classrooms or online tributes. By dedicating a day to EDSA’s legacy, these schools make remembrance a conscious choice, not just nostalgia. It is a reminder that democracy is fragile and must be protected.
Efforts to downplay EDSA’s significance show how power quietly reshapes history. The Marcos administration’s attempts to water down the revolution are unsurprising, as it directly led to their family’s downfall. It is a strategic effort, wrapped in the guise of economic productivity, to detach Filipinos from the very event that ousted a dictatorship. These schools refuse to participate in that erasure. By marking the day as sacred, they refuse to let the sacrifices of those who marched on EDSA fade into the background of national amnesia.
Education is meant to empower, not just inform. Pedagogy of the Oppressed author and philosopher Paulo Freire (1970) saw it as a force for liberation, helping students challenge oppression rather than follow the rules. Schools that declared February 25 a non-working day live up to this ideal. They provide students with the space to remember history and examine it critically, understand its implications, and relate it to the present. More than commemorating a past event, they instill in students the courage to confront injustices in their own time.
Though not strictly religious, this form of remembrance is deeply Ignatian. It is the idea of discernment—of choosing what is right even when it is difficult, standing firm in the face of opposition, and aligning one’s actions with a greater moral responsibility. The schools that honored EDSA through class suspensions and other similar forms embody this principle. They are not merely reacting to a presidential proclamation but acting out of deeply held convictions about truth and justice.
It is tempting to see EDSA as history, but its battles are far from over. Corruption, power abuse, and silencing of dissent still exist, while disinformation fuels a dangerous longing for authoritarian, oligarchic, or kleptocratic rule. If institutions of learning do not take a stand, who will? The fight against historical distortion is not won in grand revolutions but in small, everyday acts—like a school declaring a holiday or similar expressions when the government refuses to.
The young must understand that history is not just about dates and events but about people who made choices, took risks, and stood up when it was easier to stay silent. The schools that chose to commemorate EDSA remind students that they, too, are part of history. What they do with their education, how they respond to injustice, and whether they choose apathy or action define the nation’s future. Their schools have given them an important lesson: democracy is not inherited; it is built, defended, and, when necessary, restored.
We must also salute the students who understand the gravity of this moment. Some of them were not yet born when EDSA happened, but they are inheriting its consequences. Their presence in rallies, active engagement in face-to-face and virtual conversations about history, and refusal to be passive consumers of manipulated narratives show that the spirit of EDSA is not lost. These young minds, shaped by institutions that value truth, are our best hope against the forces seeking to distort reality.
This is not about partisanship. Honoring EDSA is not about favoring one political camp over another but about standing for democracy, truth, and justice. The schools that took a stand recognize that EDSA belongs to the Filipino people, not any political faction. The moment we reduce it to a mere political rivalry is the moment we fail to grasp its more profound significance. It was, and remains, a testament to what people can achieve when they refuse to be ruled by fear.
In times of crisis, institutions reveal their true character. These schools’ decision to suspend classes is a declaration of integrity, a testament to their role as stewards of truth. They are setting an example for others to follow, proving that honoring history does not require permission from the state. Their actions challenge other institutions—both academic and non-academic—to reflect on their own stance. Will they choose silence, or will they, too, walk their talk?
As Filipinos, we must stay alert—question, seek the truth, and push back against efforts to rewrite history. The schools that took a stand this year have done their part. The question now is: what will the rest of us do? The burden of remembrance is shared. If we allow history to be rewritten and let the truth be buried under propaganda, then we are complicit in erasing the very freedoms we claim to cherish. Let this be a call to action: honor EDSA, not just in words, but in how we defend democracy every single day.
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Doc H fondly describes himself as a ”student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.
