This Wednesday, we mark the 40th anniversary of the EDSA People Power Revolution. Forty years. It is a number that feels both impossibly distant and uncomfortably close. For those who were on Epifanio de los Santos Avenue in February 1986, it was a lived moment of fear, courage and improbable hope. For many younger Filipinos today, it is a chapter in a textbook, debated online, reduced to memes.

And that evolution has not been painless to watch.

In the immediate aftermath of 1986, EDSA was a beacon. The image of unarmed civilians facing down tanks, of rosaries and yellow ribbons held high, traveled around the world. The peaceful uprising that ousted a dictator and restored democratic freedoms inspired movements from Eastern Europe to Latin America. “People power” entered the global political vocabulary.

For a brief but shining period, Filipinos held their heads high, proud that their small archipelago had shown the world a different way to reclaim their freedom. We were proud, inspired and above all, hopeful.

But history is never static. The years that followed were not easy. Democracy returned, yes, but so did the old habits of politics. Trapos maneuvered. Corruption persisted. Economic hardship lingered. The gap between the soaring rhetoric of EDSA and the messy reality of governance widened. Cynicism seeped in. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the glow dimmed.

February 25 became just another date on the calendar. A holiday for some, an inconvenience for others. Traffic became worse. Social media arguments got louder. The once luminous symbol of national unity became another battleground for our endless political wars.

It is tempting to conclude that EDSA failed. That the promise was naïve. That the sacrifices were squandered. And yet, 40 years later, something curious is happening.

In the wake of massive corruption scandals, relentless political conflict and a parade of leaders who inspire more exasperation than admiration, many Filipinos are looking back on EDSA with fresh eyes. Not through rose-colored nostalgia, but with a renewed hunger for integrity and courage.

Because at its core, EDSA was not about a personality. It was about a collective decision. It was the moment when ordinary Filipinos decided that enough was enough. When we chose to stand up, peacefully but firmly, against abuse and corruption. When we asserted that power ultimately resides in the people.

That spirit is what made EDSA extraordinary. Not the speeches. Not the symbols. The people.

We often talk about EDSA as if it were a relic, a museum piece to be defended or attacked depending on political convenience. But perhaps the more useful way to remember it is as a reminder. A reminder that the Filipino capacity for courage, solidarity and moral clarity is real. That we had, in living memory, taken it upon ourselves to change the course of our nation.

Forty years on, we are once again angry. Tired. Frustrated by corruption and dysfunction. The challenges are different. The faces have changed. But the question remains the same: Do we still believe that we deserve better?

If the answer is yes, then EDSA is not just history. It is instruction. It tells us that the power to demand accountability, to insist on freedom, and to shape a better future has never been with Malacañang or Congress or the Supreme Court. It has always been with us.

That is the anniversary lesson we most need to remember.