21/09/2026
๐ ๐๐ฑ๐ฐ: ๐๐๐๐ง๐ฌ-๐๐ข๐จ๐ฅ ๐ฌ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฆ ๐๐๐ง๐๐ฅ, ๐ช๐ ๐ฅ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฅ.
September 21, 1972.
A date etched into Philippine history.
On this day 54 years ago, Proclamation No. 1081 was dated and signed by then President Ferdinand E. Marcos, placing the Philippines under Martial Law. The proclamation cited armed rebellion, insurrection, lawlessness, and threats to national security as its justification.
But the Filipino people did not immediately hear the announcement.
On September 23, 1972, Press Secretary Francisco Tatad went on air and read the proclamation to the public. Later that evening, at around 7:15 p.m., Marcos himself appeared on television to formally announce that Martial Law had been imposed throughout the country.
By then, the machinery of Martial Law was already moving.
Media organizations were shut down. Military forces arrested political opponents, journalists, activists, and other government critics. Curfews were imposed, public demonstrations were prohibited, and the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus was suspended. Congress was eventually closed, concentrating legislative power in Marcos' hands.
The press was among the first institutions to feel the weight of the new order.
Hundreds of newspapers, radio stations, and television outlets were forced to close. One widely cited accounting lists 464 media outlets shut down following the declaration, including major newspapers, community publications, television stations, and radio stations. Media organizations that were permitted to operate faced government control and censorship.
The silencing of the press meant more than the disappearance of newspapers from newsstands.
It meant that the ability of Filipinos to freely question those in power was severely restricted.
And when criticism became dangerous, fear became part of everyday life.
During the Martial Law period, thousands of Filipinos were subjected to arbitrary arrest and detention, torture, enforced disappearance, and extrajudicial killing. Amnesty International documented approximately 70,000 people imprisoned and 34,000 tortured, while recording more than 3,200 people killed during the 1972โ1981 Martial Law period.
The Human Rights Victimsโ Claims Board later received tens of thousands of claims from people seeking recognition and reparations for abuses committed during the Marcos regime.
Republic Act No. 10368, enacted in 2013, established the legal framework for recognizing and compensating victims of human-rights violations committed during the Marcos regime.
Behind every statistic was a human being.
A student.
A journalist.
A farmer.
A worker.
A lawyer.
A community leader.
A parent.
A son or daughter.
A Filipino who had a name, a family, a voice, and a future.
Some were imprisoned.
Some were tortured.
Some disappeared.
Some never returned home.
And their families were left carrying questions that could not easily be answered.
๐ ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐๐ถ๐ฎ๐น ๐๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ ๐ป๐ผ๐ ๐บ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐น๐ ๐ฎ๐ฏ๐ผ๐๐ ๐ฐ๐๐ฟ๐ณ๐ฒ๐๐ ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐๐ผ๐น๐ฑ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ ๐ผ๐ป ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐๐.
It fundamentally changed the relationship between the Filipino citizen and the State.
Executive power expanded.
Military authority grew.
Political opposition was suppressed.
The press was restricted.
Civil liberties were curtailed.
And according to human-rights documentation, abuses were committed on a widespread scale.
Amnesty International's historical research described patterns of arbitrary detention, torture, enforced disappearance, and extrajudicial ex*****ons during the Marcos years.
Yet the story did not end when Martial Law was formally lifted.
On January 17, 1981, Marcos issued Proclamation No. 2045 formally lifting Martial Law.
However, he remained president and continued to exercise extensive political power until his government was overthrown during the EDSA People Power Revolution in February 1986.
Thus, the history of the Marcos regime cannot be understood simply as a nine-year period beginning in 1972 and ending in 1981.
The authoritarian system and its consequences continued beyond the formal lifting of Martial Law, until the events of 1986 brought the Marcos presidency to an end.
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐ป๐๐ฒ๐พ๐๐ฒ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ป๐ผ๐ ๐ผ๐ป๐น๐ ๐ฝ๐ผ๐น๐ถ๐๐ถ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐น.
The Marcos years also left behind a major economic and financial legacy. Historical accounts document the accumulation of substantial foreign debt during the period, while Philippine and international proceedings established findings concerning ill-gotten wealth associated with the Marcoses. The Philippine Supreme Court, for example, ruled in 2003 that US$658 million in Swiss deposits associated with Marcos were ill-gotten wealth.
These realities remind us that the consequences of authoritarian rule are experienced not only inside government buildings.
They reach the household.
They reach schools.
They reach workplaces.
They reach communities.
And they can remain visible long after the government that created them has disappeared.
Kaya, 54 years later, bakit kailangan pa rin nating alalahanin?
Because forgetting is not the same as healing.
Remembering does not mean remaining trapped in the past.
It means acknowledging what happened so that future generations can understand why human rights, freedom of expression, press freedom, democratic institutions, accountability, and the rule of law matter.
It means recognizing the testimonies of victims and survivors.
It means examining documents instead of relying solely on political narratives.
It means teaching students to ask:
Ano ang ebidensya?
Sino ang nagsabi?
Ano ang nangyari?
Sino ang naapektuhan?
At ano ang maaari nating matutuhan mula rito?
For us, as future educators of Social Studies and History, this responsibility becomes even greater.
We will one day stand before classrooms and tell the stories of the past.
What we choose to teach matters.
We must teach history not as a collection of convenient memories, but as a discipline grounded in evidence, context, multiple sources, and the experiences of the people who lived through it.
Because when historical memory disappears, misinformation can fill the space it leaves behind.
And when the experiences of victims are forgotten, the lessons that their suffering should have taught society can be forgotten with them.
๐๐ป๐ด ๐ธ๐ฎ๐๐ฎ๐๐๐ฎ๐๐ฎ๐ป ๐ฎ๐ ๐ต๐ถ๐ป๐ฑ๐ถ ๐น๐ฎ๐ป๐ด ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฎ ๐ธ๐ฎ๐ฏ๐ถ๐๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ผ๐บ๐๐๐ต๐ถ๐ป.
It is meant to be understood.
It is meant to be examined.
And sometimes, it is meant to remind us of what must never happen again.
Fifty-four years later, we remember the voices that were silenced.
We remember those who were imprisoned.
We remember those who endured torture.
We remember those who disappeared.
We remember those who never came home.
We remember the journalists who continued to seek the truth.
We remember the families who carried the pain.
And we remember the Filipinos who stood for freedom and democracy.
๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ฅ ๐๐๐๐๐ก.
Not simply as a slogan.
But as a commitment to remember, to learn, and to protect the rights that generations before us fought to defend.
๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ฅ ๐๐ข๐ฅ๐๐๐ง.
Because the past cannot be changed.
But the way we remember, understand, and teach it can shape the future.
54 years later, the lesson remains:
๐๐ถ๐๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ ๐บ๐๐๐ ๐ฏ๐ฒ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐บ๐ฒ๐บ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฑ.
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ถ๐ฐ๐๐ถ๐บ๐ ๐บ๐๐๐ ๐ฏ๐ฒ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐บ๐ฒ๐บ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฑ.
๐๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐น๐ฒ๐๐๐ผ๐ป๐ ๐บ๐๐๐ ๐ฏ๐ฒ ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ผ๐ป.
๐๐๐ฆ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ฅ: The views and opinions expressed by the PnC Social Science Society Student Council do not necessarily state nor reflect those of the University and its management.
