One hundred twenty-eight years after Emilio Aguinaldo declared Philippine independence in Kawit, Cavite, the question remains as relevant as ever: Are we truly free?

We have now spent more than a century as an independent nation, far shorter than the 333 years we spent under Spanish colonial rule. Add the decades of American occupation and the brutal years under Japanese control, and it becomes clear: we have written more of our history under others than under ourselves.

We fought to free ourselves from foreign masters. We won our flag, our anthem, and our sovereignty. Yet after liberation came another kind of captivity.

In 1965, we fell under the rule of Ferdinand Marcos Sr. What followed were years of authoritarianism, military abuses, press repression, political persecution, and fear. For two decades, democracy was shackled.

Then came EDSA. Millions of Filipinos took to the streets and showed the world that people power could defeat a dictatorship.

Yet the restoration of democracy did not automatically bring prosperity, good governance, or strong institutions. Administration after administration promised reform. Some delivered progress. Many fell short. Corruption survived. Political dynasties endured. Poverty remained stubbornly entrenched.

Nearly four decades after EDSA, Filipinos freely elected another Marcos to the highest office. Whether one views that as vindication, rejection, or simply democracy at work, it is a reminder that history is never as settled as we imagine.

Before him, another president, Rodrigo Duterte, took pride in his bloody war on drugs — a campaign that overwhelmingly claimed the lives of the poor while leaving many of the country’s deeper social problems untouched.

Today, the chains are less visible — but they remain.

We are no longer under colonial rule. We are no longer under martial law. Yet many Filipinos remain trapped by forces just as real.

Corruption remains. Political dynasties remain. The hunger for power remains.

Filipinos continue to wade through floods that government projects were supposed to prevent. Billions have been poured into flood control programs, yet communities still drown every rainy season.

The Marcoses and the Dutertes have their minions scattered across the branches of government. In the House and in the Senate, their allies battle one another relentlessly. 

One camp pushes for the impeachment of Vice President Sara Duterte. The other fights back, warning of political persecution and retaliation.

Investigations are launched. Accusations are exchanged. Hearings dominate headlines. Meanwhile, food prices remain high. Electricity rates continue to rise. Fuel prices climb. Hospitals remain congested. 

Schools suffer from classroom shortages. Farmers struggle with low palay prices and dwindling support. Fisherfolk continue to face threats and restrictions in waters that should feed their families and the nation.

It is political theater on the national stage, and we are paying for the tickets. No foreign flag flies above Malacañang, yet many Filipinos still feel trapped by a system that serves the few and leaves the many behind.

Are we truly free? Or did the prison simply get bigger?

Freedom is not merely the absence of a colonizer. Freedom is the ability of a nation to determine its own destiny. It is the ability of its people to live with dignity, opportunity, and justice. It is freedom from corruption, dependency, poverty, and leaders who place personal ambition above public service.

The Philippines is free, but the promise of that freedom remains unfulfilled.