Caecus

Chapter 6: Are Filipinos Still Worth Dying For?

Lucas stood on the steps of the old university library, staring out at the small crowd gathered in front of him. It wasn’t the largest audience he had spoken to, but he didn’t care about the numbers. What mattered was the message—and it was one that had been burning inside him for months.

In his hand, he clutched a worn-out piece of paper, one he had read and re-read countless times. It was the famous speech by Benigno "Ninoy" Aquino Jr., delivered before he was assassinated in 1983. The words echoed in his mind as he prepared to address the crowd:

*"The Filipino is worth dying for."*

That phrase had electrified the country during the final years of the dictatorship, becoming a rallying cry for those who longed for freedom. Ninoy’s death had sparked the flame that would eventually lead to the People Power Revolution, the overthrow of the dictator, and the restoration of democracy. But now, standing here decades later, Lucas wondered: was it still true? Were Filipinos still worth dying for?

He adjusted the microphone, the crowd’s murmurs quieting as they sensed the gravity of his next words.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about those famous words,” Lucas began, his voice steady but reflective. “Ninoy Aquino, one of the greatest martyrs in our history, believed in them so deeply that he gave his life for it. He believed that despite the corruption, despite the injustices, despite the suffering, the Filipino was worth dying for.”

He paused, scanning the faces in the crowd. Some were young students, eager and full of hope. Others were older, hardened by years of disillusionment with the country’s state of affairs. All of them were here because they were searching for something—for answers, for hope, for a reason to keep fighting.

“But today,” Lucas continued, “I think we need to ask ourselves a hard question. Are we still worth dying for?”

The silence that followed was heavy. He could see the discomfort in their eyes. No one wanted to confront the possibility that the answer might not be as clear as it once was.

“We stand here,” Lucas said, “in a country where political dynasties still control our government, where corruption is still rampant, where poverty and inequality continue to divide us. After everything we fought for—after EDSA, after the countless sacrifices of those who came before us—we’re still here, stuck in the same cycle. So I have to ask: are we, as a people, still worth the sacrifice?”

A hand went up in the crowd. It was a young woman in her twenties, a university student with fire in her eyes. She stood up, her voice clear and full of passion. “Of course we’re still worth it! It’s not our fault that the system is broken. We’re still fighting. We’re still trying to change things!”

Lucas nodded, appreciating her defiance. “I agree with you. But let’s be honest with ourselves. For every one of us who’s fighting, there are thousands more who’ve given up. There are thousands more who’ve accepted the corruption, who vote for the same politicians who’ve betrayed them time and time again. It’s not just the system that’s broken—it’s our faith in each other. Too many of us have lost sight of the bigger picture. We’ve lost sight of the dream of a better Philippines.”

The young woman looked down, her fire dimming slightly. Lucas understood her frustration. He had felt it too, every time he watched another corrupt politician get re-elected, every time he saw the same political families tighten their grip on power.

“But I want to believe,” Lucas said, his voice softening, “that deep down, the Filipino is still worth fighting for. Worth dying for. Because I’ve seen the spirit of this country in the moments when it matters most. I’ve seen it in the streets during disasters, when people come together to help those in need. I’ve seen it in the passion of the youth, in the way they speak out against injustice.”

He took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. “But belief alone isn’t enough. If we want to be worth dying for, we have to prove it. We have to show that we deserve the sacrifices of those who came before us. We can’t keep repeating the same mistakes, voting for the same corrupt leaders, and expecting things to change.”

Another voice called out from the back of the crowd, this time an older man. “But what can we do, Lucas? We’ve been fighting for so long, and nothing changes. It feels like no matter what we do, the system always wins.”

Lucas met the man’s gaze, understanding the weariness behind his words. “I know it feels that way. But we can’t give up. Giving up means betraying the very people who died believing in us. We owe it to them, and to ourselves, to keep fighting. To keep trying. The system only wins if we let it.”

He stepped closer to the edge of the platform, his voice growing more intense. “We have to demand more from ourselves. We have to demand more from each other. We have to stop settling for the bare minimum and start holding our leaders accountable, even when it’s hard, even when it seems impossible.”

Lucas paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. The crowd was silent, their faces reflecting a mixture of hope and doubt.

“The truth is, we are worth dying for,” Lucas said softly, “but only if we choose to be. We have the potential to be a great nation. We have the spirit, the talent, the resources. But potential means nothing if we don’t act on it. We can’t keep blaming the past for our present. We can’t keep blaming the revolution for the choices we make today.”

He held up the piece of paper in his hand, Ninoy’s words written in bold letters across it.

“‘The Filipino is worth dying for,’” he read aloud, his voice echoing through the quiet night. “But are we living up to that? Are we making the sacrifices of those who came before us worth it?”

Lucas looked out at the crowd, his heart heavy but determined. “If we want to be worth the sacrifices, we have to start by believing in ourselves again. We have to believe that we are capable of more, that we deserve more. And we have to show it in the choices we make, in the way we treat each other, in the leaders we choose.”

The young woman from earlier raised her hand again, her voice trembling with emotion. “But what if we fail? What if we can’t change things?”

Lucas smiled sadly. “Failure isn’t the worst thing that can happen to us. Giving up is. As long as we keep trying, as long as we keep fighting for what’s right, we’re not defeated. We only lose if we stop believing in the possibility of a better future.”

The crowd was quiet again, but this time it felt different. There was a flicker of hope, a sense that maybe, just maybe, they could still be the change their country needed.

Lucas stepped back from the microphone, his heart racing. He didn’t know if his words would make a difference. But he knew one thing for certain: the Filipino people were still worth fighting for. And as long as there were those willing to fight, there was still hope.

As the crowd began to disperse, Lucas looked up at the stars. They seemed distant, almost unreachable, like the dream of a better Philippines. But he knew that dreams weren’t meant to be easy. They were meant to be fought for, day after day, year after year.

And in that fight, he believed, the Filipino people would prove—once again—that they were worth every sacrifice.