history | Panorama

Today I showed my students a video on the EDSA Revolution — specifically the documentary produced by the Inquirer for its 20th anniversary. Many of them no longer know much about our history. One student even said the revolution happened because Emilio Aguinaldo was assassinated, confusing Ninoy with Aguinaldo.

After the viewing, I asked them: If there were a need for revolution today, would you go out to EDSA?

The majority of my 16–17-year-old students said no. They said they are not personally affected by government oppression, that the risk — even jail time — would not be worth it. One remarked that he would just be “a cup of water in the sea.” Others admitted they would rather remain in the comfort of their homes.

A few hopefuls said they would go out, fortunately not for FOMO, but for the country and for fellow citizens.

Then I asked: What changed? Why did people back then go out into the streets — not only in EDSA 1, but again in EDSA 2?

It was interesting that a Korean student offered a striking insight: even when change happens, without follow-through it collapses — and history did repeat itself. Marcos happened again.

That conversation made me reflect. Revolutions like the French Revolution, the EDSA Revolution, and Gandhi’s movement unfolded in the streets. The overthrow of a government becomes the visible symbol of change. But when what is inside us does not transform, there is no real revolution. The political transition becomes a picture — powerful, historic, but incomplete.

Political structures matter. Institutions matter. Laws matter. But institutions are sustained by culture, and culture is sustained by persons.

True revolution requires inner transformation. It is not merely shouting at the top of our lungs on EDSA, cursing the government, or throwing Molotov cocktails. In today’s context, being revolutionary means something quieter but harder: refusing to share fake news, following simple rules, practicing justice in small matters, choosing integrity in daily work — the little acts that, when added together, build a good society.

Be a revolutionary with little and ordinary acts. Build a family. Educate your children well. Work with excellence. Go to church.

As G.K. Chesterton put it, to be ordinary may be the most extraordinary thing today.

A couple of weeks ago, I signed up for a free course at UA&P titled WHOLLY HUMAN: Integral Anthropology. Without knowing much about the course, I was intrigued by its title, which ultimately prompted me to enroll.

Today, I attended the first session of this three-part series, facilitated by Dr. Celing Tiongco, a long-time professor at the university. The class was attended mostly by members of Dr. Tiongco’s prayer circle and other professors, including the esteemed Professor Emeritus Dr. Paul Dumol.

The course explores Integral Anthropology, which integrates philosophical and theological anthropology with empirical findings from disciplines like biology, economics, psychology, and neuroscience, etc. . Its practical goal is to offer a holistic understanding of the human person by drawing insights from various perspectives rather than relying on a single discipline.

One of the central discussions focused on humanity’s trajectory:

Existence – Man’s origin .
Humanization – Learning and becoming truly human.
Flourishing – Living well in all aspects of life.
Final Destiny – Which, depending on one’s beliefs, is either nothingness or, for Christians, salvation.

A key takeaway for me is the way this course reframes the fundamental questions we collectively ask about life: Who are we? Why do we exist? What is our purpose? What guides our morality? All these questions converge into one profound inquiry: What is the whole truth about man?

Another important insight is recognizing that humans exist in a tension between good and bad, possessing the freedom to choose. While this seems obvious, it contrasts sharply with today’s culture, where “authenticity” often equates to embracing raw, unrefined impulses—our untamed, animalistic selves.

The session also highlighted a deeply resonant truth: man is broken by nature. This brokenness creates a sense of emptiness, which we often attempt to fill with desires and longings. Interestingly, the professor shared a study indicating that this emptiness is universal, affecting both those with and without mental health issues. This brought to mind the timeless words of St. Augustine: