February 25, 1986 is no special day. February 25, 1986 is an historical day. I shall never forget a day when hundreds of thousands of my countrymen converged along Epifanio delos Santos Avenue (or Highway 54 to the ancient ones) in a rare display of nationalism -- a virtue I have always viewed as lacking in us.
At that historical intersection of EDSA and Ortigas Avenue now stands a figure of religion. And under its wings a platoon of battle-ready soldiers always stands guard. An obvious desecration of hallowed ground, where prayers, tears, and sweat mixed with the heady air of nationalism.
We, as a people, have allowed bastards to step on our hallowed grounds, on the very spot where our race as one country found expression.
We are a masochistic race. We revel on our despair, on our woes. We want progress, but we are cowards, afraid of sacrifice for our own kin, afraid of confronting the bastards who corrupt our society.
What else can be said about a people who allow themselves to be trampled upon, to be spit upon, to be treated like animals?
We pay for the salaries of policemen who regularly violate our rights for peaceful assembly and free speech. We pay for the very bullets of soldier-assassins that maim and kill activists, priests, and journalists. We pay for the the special no. 8 license plates of our so-called honorable representatives, for their bullet-proof cars, for their arrogant security detail and for the luxuries of their wives, mistresses, and spoiled kids.
And of course, the very cash that flows from the bloodied hands of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo to her minions comes from our pockets lined with fear and abuse.
All of these, we fight with prayers, we fight with protest rallies, we fight with text brigades.
Let us heed Engr. Jun Lozada's call for truth to overpower all the profanities of the present regime. Truth shall set us free, truth shall power us to resolve this maddening crisis.