AMONG my memories of the 1986 people’s power experience one stands out above the rest. It took place a day after people had converged outside the military camps at EDSA on the evening of 22nd February 1986 at the home of the revered late statesman, Senator Lorenzo Tanada. In the verandah were his son Bobby and two stalwarts of the opposition, Senators Jose W. “Ka Pepe” Diokno and Jovy Salonga.

Considering the Options

As events unfolded in the streets around the military camps, a considered exchange of ideas took place at what was then a critical conjuncture. Pepe Diokno initially saw a stand-off between two factions of the military and therefore warned that ordinary people could be “cannon fodder.” Jovy Salonga took a cautious position and wanted to wait out developments till there was more clarity. Ka Tanny was vocal in his determination to seek out the leadership of the military reformers to ensure that there was no turning back in their decision to distance themselves from the dictatorship they had served for so long. His instinct was to turn this risk into a political opportunity.

Soon after the meeting, Bobby accompanied his father to the military camp to seek an assurance that there was no turning back. Ka Tanny came back convinced that civilians in concert with military reformers could mount “people’s power” with a capacity to bring down the dictatorship.

Turning The Corner With No Turning Back

The ranks of those who had camped out in the streets had swelled to perhaps over a million, at one point, stretching from the confines of Cubao to the corner of Edsa/Ortigas Avenue, followed in their millions by people tuned in to their radios. During the afternoon, I had seen how religious nuns with rosary in hand pleading with the soldiers on top of the tanks that had come from the direction of Fort Bonifacio to stop their engines and partake of refreshments. I talked with several soldiers, one shod in shoes without soles, and they asked me where the communists were since they were told by their commanders to quell a communist revolt. They were instead surprised to find themselves face to face with seminarians and students, housewives carrying their children, and devotees carrying the statues of the Blessed Virgin.

The soldiers were confronted by the people they were bound to protect, not by the so-called “enemies of the state.” They found themselves staring into the eyes of determined seminarians and devout priests, women who could have been their mothers and sisters who defended every inch of the ground they had won and would not budge – even at the cost of their lives, it seemed. People would not move, they stood their ground. It was in this way, that a peaceful retreat had been negotiated, extracted rather, from a military that had now lost their compass.

Braving the Dawn of a Different Day

At the break of dawn on the third day of the people’s siege of the military camps, the roar of engines from the skies broke the ominous silence. Seven Sikorsky Helicopters from the 15th Strike Wing of the Philippine Air Force hovered above the military camps. I thought that what we had feared most was about to pass – an aerial assault to disperse the crowds assembled around the camps.

Almost instinctively, we sang the “Our Father.” I do not now even remember if what we sang was “Ama Namin” or the “Our Father” but one thing was certain: it was sung like a prayer, and with all the fervour at our disposal after a night almost without sleep in the streets. As the Sikorsky helicopters descended on the Camp Crame parade grounds, we experienced the surprise of our lives. From the helicopters that seemed camouflaged in the dark, out came some 16 pilots with white handkerchiefs sporting the Laban signs while long guns, M-16s perhaps, slung on their shoulders.  That seemed the turning point of the people’s power experience from where I stood.  We had expected a bloodbath and were ready to give up our lives; we experienced redemption instead. Another day had dawned.

 (An eyewitness account from a participant of the People Power experience.)

Ed Garcia is a human rights activist. He is one of the founders of Lakasdiwa, a Parangal Lingkod Sambayanan recipient and a distinguished Ateneo alumnus.