The deep cuts in our society are deeper than we think they are
The following piece was written on the occasion of the film showing of A Thousand Cuts by De La Salle University’s Student Council in commemoration of “People Power at 40: Apat na Dekada ng Pagkakaisa Laban sa Diktadurya” on February 27, 2027.
by Telibert Laoc, senior professional lecturer, Department of Political Science and
Development Studies, College of Liberal Arts, DLSU Manila
Thanks to the University Student Council for this opportunity to honor with you the significance of EDSA, and to keep its spirit a motivating force for education, reflection, and action.
Through the film, we take inspiration from Maria Ressa, Reynaldo Santos, Pia Ranada, Patricia Evangelista, Rambo Talabong, Glenda Gloria, Chay Hofilena, and a most admirable and courageous group at Rappler. They stood up against a murderous tyrant at the helm of a bureaucracy willing to bend to his ways.
The people at Rappler held the line—and held it they did. We are just so glad that it did not take them 20-odd years to do so—thanks to the EDSA People Power Revolution of 1986. In the account of Maria Ressa, [at that time] "the country was actively creating what the future was going to look like." Little did she know that, decades later, she and Rappler would be harassed; they too were creating a future—by correcting the lies of the present, through holding on to the gains of EDSA.
The film shows tyranny, intolerance to ideas of others, aversion to being held to account, turning laws into weapons against democratic dissent. It uses the State in paradoxical play of providing a sense of security by showing death, and using means that never justified the end.
"If we don't use our rights, we lose them," says Maria Ressa. The exercise of our rights is a perishable skill. We lose it through passivity, and acting dismissingly and convincing ourselves that we could use it later. But in the slow surrender—by not demanding the rights guaranteed in our Constitution—we go into a slow death cycle: the death of democratic participation and democratic representation.
Where do I see "cuts" in our society? From my view, they run deeper than we think they do. Let me get straight to the point:
Anything that pits the poor against the rich is a deep cut. I take aim at polls or surveys that continue to just use the economic status of respondents, that is, the segmentation of households by income, purchasing power and living standards, as a differentiator of opinions. Essentially: what do Classes D and E say versus what Classes A, B, and C say.
This is a chasm that our politics has long kept as a wedge and used to gain control over a divided people. Knowing this, I put the onus on the pollsters to be the duty-bearers in truthfully and responsibly presenting public opinion. What then should they do? I suggest they add a classification of respondents based on knowledge of current events. They could combine this with the socio-economic class segmentation, but this added differentiator will surely reveal more of our society than what has been conveniently referenced.
It is not difficult to imagine that the C, D, E social classes are more aware of the political goings-on and matters of governance because these have a direct effect on them, and possibly even on a daily basis. Imagine how this will change political messaging.
The systemic denial of equal representation of women, who compose half of our population is a deep cut. While we enjoy being in the top decile in the World Economic Forum's Gender Gap reports, this does not do justice to the disparity in representation. Until women are equally represented in politics, elections, and in the management of public resources, we will never see a change in how we think as a collective, particularly in viewing and addressing lingering and current challenges.
From the elections in 2010 up to the most recent in 2025, women only comprise between 17 and 21 percent of candidates—four male candidates for every female candidate. Of this number, only 23 percent actually get elected. The systemic barriers to entry for women are: (intentionally) high cost of getting elected, the misogynistic character of politics, typecasting of women, the association of leadership as male, and lack of appreciation of the complementarity of women and men. In other words, politics and polity were defined, and continue to be defined, as masculine.
The Sangguniang Kabataan elections show a more encouraging story. There are 1.3 male candidates for every female candidate—the closest to achieving parity; a very inspiring development. We are doing work in this area as we speak. We are working with the Commission on Elections (COMELEC) to appeal to schools to encourage their students to be candidates in this year's elections on November 2.
The absence of options that could improve democratic representation is a deep cut. Former U.S. ambassador to Papua New Guinea, Teddy Taylor, said to political party officials that democracy is an experiment. For me, it is indeed. He continued to say that with democracy it is possible for him, an African American, to be an ambassador.
We all know that our politics is failing our people, and our governance is failing our nation. But where do we find options, or how do we formulate alternatives? I believe that the schools and universities should be the well-spring and provide those.
Take these cases: in many schools, turnout in university student council elections is low, struggling to even get to 50 percent. Generally, only two parties are contesting—hardly providing a range of options and not a guarantee of having true representation of students. Election Committees, too, believe that their only duty is to administer the voting.
Here in DLSU, many voters chose "Abstain"—an outright rejection of the candidates (but thankfully not the electoral process). I will venture to say that if in the national elections voters had a choice to vote "Abstain," many would.
If school politics mirror national politics, what have we got? We may be creating a rehearsal space for the same bad habits—cliques over community, patronage over merit, popularity over service, noise over substance. That should worry us, because what students normalize in school, they may later reproduce in public life. But it is also an early warning and a real opportunity: if schools model fairness, evidence, inclusion, and respectful debate, they can help strengthen democratic practice before the next generation inherits flawed political norms.
What to do? Student representation should be treated as democratic institutions to be formed and improved. Rules should guarantee more choices, and encourage election committees to go beyond counting votes and help shape conditions for genuine representation—better understanding of students' needs and aspirations, encourage parties to be responsive, formulate clearer standards of accountability, and emphasize representation over leadership.
Technically, the mode of elections, which is first-past-the-post or majoritarian, does not guarantee true democratic representation. It is likely to produce two strong parties; all votes that went to the party or parties that did not get the most number of votes are wasted; and it is highly likely that the winning party does not represent the majority. The options that I would like to offer are: a proportional system of representation and ranked choice voting.
If we are serious about recovering, strengthening, or renewing our democracy, then our campuses must become places where students learn that politics is about rights, responsibility, inclusion, and service to a community; and where true representation (not leadership) is the standard. The task is not to abandon school politics because it mirrors the nation's failures, but to redesign it so it can model the nation's democratic possibilities.
For me EDSA was a culmination. From it sprung possibilities and options. Many of the options are still in play and viable. Some have not been acted on as yet. Now is the time to spring them.
Feb 25, 2026
