via Shady Heron, Pressroom PH
Respect. That’s the word Malacañang requested after thousands of Filipinos filled the streets on September 21, crying foul at corruption and remembering the horrors of Martial Law. Respect, they reminded us, as though the bigger sin was profanity—not the greed that caused ghost projects, kickbacks, and flooded cities drowning in the weight of stolen funds.
Let’s get this straight: respect is not a one-way demand. You do not get to preach about “decency” when your police are dragging protestors like Polytechnic University of the Philippines student Daniel Gio Cabelles by the neck and elbowing his head before filing charges against him beyond the 38-hour legal limit. You do not get to wag your finger at foul language when bystanders on Recto Avenue are shoved, pinned, and arrested for simply watching. You do not get to invoke “responsibility to the youth” while 89 minors were among the 216 arrested in a single night of violence.
Interior Secretary Jonvic Remulla swore no tear gas was used, only a smoke grenade. Yet footage tells another story—SWAT teams firing canisters near Mendiola, journalists gasping for breath, eyes burning, their lenses fogging with chemicals the government insists never existed. Freelance photojournalist Zedrich Madrid was beaten with shields and sticks while covering the chaos, spared only when another journalist identified him. Tell me, where is the respect for truth when even those tasked to document reality are battered into silence?
The hypocrisy is staggering. The Palace lectures protesters about setting a “good example for the youth,” while the government itself sets the worst one. Which view do they think offends decency more—the curse words Vice Ganda hurled at corrupt officials, or the sight of a protester dragged and used as a human shield for daring to speak?
If they demand respect, then they must give accountability, not mere pacification. Respect comes with the president acting on Vice Ganda’s dare: jail the thieves, not the students. Respect also means truth in the Palace podium, not denials that unravel the moment footage hits social media. Respect is fulfilled in admitting that when people march in the tens of thousands, it is not because they want to curse—but because they are cursed by a government that keeps stealing their future.
And here lies the rawest wound: they ask for our composure while we choke on their chemicals. They want our patience while our taxes are siphoned into ghost projects. They want our civility while our peers are dragged on the pavement. Respect cannot exist in this lopsided equation, where the governed are treated as suspects and the governors as saints.
So yes, the streets will get louder. The curses will sting sharper. Because respect is not begged from those who continuously trample it. Respect is earned when leaders finally treat their people not as nuisances to be silenced, but as voices worth listening to. Until then, every chant, every placard, every protest hurled at power is not disrespect—it is the only language left when leaders forget how to respect their own citizens.
And if they think these cries will fade, they are gravely mistaken. For history has shown us: when respect is denied long enough, it transforms into defiance; when truth is buried deep enough, it erupts louder than ever. The workers, the farmers, the journalists—those they dismiss as troublemakers—are the backbone of the nation, reminding them who really pays their salaries, and who really keeps this country alive. And the longer leaders mistake silence for compliance, the closer they come to facing a truth they cannot police away: no empire has ever outlasted the people who refused to bow to it.
