Hours after precincts closed the 9th of May it was clear who the next president of the Philippines was to be, hours later it was all but confirmed. The people had spoken, a new Philippines would be born, Rodrigo Duterte would be the most powerful man in the country. This should have been the most important information to grace the land, however, on night of the 9th of May the country looked not at the one to assume the most powerful position in the country, but the second.
As the results from the “Solid North” came pouring in, as the gap between the namesake of late dictator Ferdinand Marcos and the widow of Jesse Robredo started to grow larger by the hour, peaking at a gap of over 900,000 votes, the night looked darker on the land of the rising sun. But, suddenly, the rift began to wane. Suddenly, the prospect of having the son of the man who brought the country to ruin seemed less and less viable. Suddenly, there was hope.
Social media was ablaze as Robredo began a comeback no one thought would be possible. #LabanLeni and #BBM4VP lit everyone’s feed, the presidential race a mere afterthought. The battle took into the gathering night, the comeback pushing forward with quiet intensity. Then, at about 3 in the morning, when the night had reached its peak, Leni was leading by a margin of about 800 votes. She never looked back. Dawn would break soon.
Many on social media began to parallel the congresswoman to a little known widow of an assassinated senator. The widow, the defender of human rights, the woman clad in yellow. It didn’t help that Marcos, after losing the lead, started to call foul—he started to look less like BongBong and more like Ferdinand. However, a parallelism should have never been an option—a Marcos back in the Malacanang should have never been an option.
It’s sometimes easier to forget, it seems. More convenient to act like nothing happened, to ignore the faults committed and move on. There’s less pain. However, if recent events have shown, we have not moved on—we have not learned. Because the dictator who had ripped our freedom will be buried next to countrymen who risked their lives for our sovereignty. Because the dictator’s son almost held the second highest position in the country. Because almost half of the country still thinks that what Ferdinand Marcos during the time of Martial Law was warranted.
There’s always space for forgiveness, for closure. However, there is no space for forgetting. We should not forget the things that transpired, we should not forget the pain—we should not forget the darkness.
We have to apologize, for forgetting. This was not what people were fighting for, this Philippines was not what people died for. We have to apologize, then we have to remember. Our history is plagued be repetitions and reenactments. It’s high time a chapter is wrought.
