A barangay in the south of Luzon, I was told, used to have this rule at its hall meetings: no discussion of national politics, just local issues. “Para iwas gulo (So we don’t end up fighting),” the barangay captain said.

For months, it worked. They’d talk about the broken streetlights, the stray dogs, and the garbage collection schedule.

One night, someone mentioned the rising price of rice. That led to imports, which led to the President and, suddenly, people were shouting over each other about Marcos and Duterte. The barangay chief just sat there, fanning himself. “Eto na naman, walang magawa kundi mag-away (Here we go again, with nothing to do but fight).”

I was thinking about that while following the news about Dasmariñas (Cavite) Representative Kiko Barzaga’s second 60-day suspension and the Trillion Peso March at the EDSA People Power Monument on 25 February. It’s a dupe of the barangay captain’s rule, except now it’s applied to Congress and even to historic protest sites.

One realization: Silence isn’t the same as peace.

This hits harder when I read about the Trillion Peso March organizers banning calls to oust President Marcos Jr. According to Tindig Pilipinas co-convenor Francis Aquino Dee, it’s supposedly unconstitutional to call for the removal of a public official from office.

It sinks in that they’re holding an event at EDSA — the very place where Filipinos gathered in 1986 to peacefully overthrow a dictator — and they’re banning calls for leadership change? The irony is hilarious if it weren’t so troubling.

Freedom of speech doesn’t work on a selective basis. It doesn’t have a favorite color or political party. It’s a constitutional guarantee, period. And yes, that means protecting speech we disagree with, speech that makes us uncomfortable, even speech we find annoying.

It’s easy to defend the right to speak of people you agree with. The real test of democracy is whether we can defend the right to speak of those we genuinely can’t stand. Does the Constitution include a “but this person is really irritating” exemption?

Clearly, though, freedom isn’t a license to be disrespectful. Our institutions deserve protection. EDSA isn’t just any ordinary street; it’s sacred ground for democracy.

What keeps nagging

Does silencing certain voices actually protect our democratic institutions? Does suspending Barzaga restore respect for Congress? Does banning certain chants at EDSA honor the spirit of People Power?

I don’t think it does. It doesn’t maintain order and it seems like someone is deciding that if they can’t win the argument, they’ll just take away your microphone.

Barzaga was elected by the people of Dasmariñas. Not appointed, not selected, but elected. That’s the foundation of representative democracy. Suspending him doesn’t just punish one person; it tells his constituents their choice doesn’t matter as much as political convenience.

Banning certain speech at EDSA tells generations of Filipinos that the lessons of People Power — that people have a voice, that people can demand change — only apply when those in power are comfortable with it.

A dangerous path, isn’t it? If elected officials can be suspended for speech, and citizens silenced at demonstrations — however heated their views — what message does that send? It says that our vote counts and our voice matters, only until someone more powerful decides otherwise.

If we truly value democracy, we have to protect it even when it’s uncomfortable. Allow debate, even when it gets messy and uncomfortable. Respect the people’s mandate, even if we don’t respect the person holding it. Allow peaceful assembly, even if the chants make us squirm.

Because once we start choosing whose freedom matters, we don’t just lose respect for our institutions. We lose the institutions themselves. And we’re left with a very quiet EDSA where no one is allowed to speak, with nothing but noise and empty chairs where representatives used to sit, and we’re supposed to call that democracy.

All told, Barzaga’s suspension and the ouster calls ban aren’t actually keeping the peace. They are just postponing conflict. The real work of democracy isn’t avoiding hard conversations. It’s learning how to have them without forgetting that we already fought one dictatorship under Martial Law, so we’d never have to live through another where speaking up could get you silenced.