September 21 is not ordinary day in the Philippines, It is etched in national memory as the anniversary of martial law, declared in 1972 by Ferdinand Marcos Sr. For decades, activists have used the date to demand justice, accountability, and remembrance. This year, however, the call to march carried an added weight. Citizens organized what they called the “Trillion Peso March” and “Baha sa Luneta,” a massive protest against alleged corruption in flood-control projects. Billions of pesos, critics claimed, were wasted on ghost infrastructures while communities continued to drown in floods.
Against this backdrop, thousands converged in the streets of Manila. While Luneta saw waves of peaceful demonstrators, Mendiola became the eye of the storm.
Voices and Violence
Mendiola has always been a hotbed of resistance. Its symbolic proximity to Malacañang Palace makes it a magnet for those demanding the government’s ear. On September 21 2025, the crowd started as spirited but largely peaceful placards raised, chants echoing, drums beating like a heartbeat of the people’s anger.
Then, a group of masked individuals arrived, their actions fanning the embers of unrest. Stones, bottles, and even makeshift weapons were hurled at police lines. Tires were set ablaze, and a trailer used as a barricade was torched, filling the air with acrid smoke. What had begun as a march of defiance now resembled a battlefield.
Deaths and Injuries
As chaos surged, Mendiola’s pavement was stained with blood. Amid the confusion, a male protester was fatally stabbed. Reports also confirmed that another activist sustained a gunshot wound, leaving the crowd shaken and fearful.
But it wasn’t just protesters who suffered. Police officers, caught in the hail of rocks and the chaos of fires, were injured in significant numbers. Across the day’s demonstrations in Manila, 93 police officers were reported hurt, while 113 protesters were arrested 21 of them in Mendiola alone, including minors. Both sides bore the scars of a clash that no one had intended to spiral so brutally out of control.
While most Filipinos had turned out to peacefully demand accountability, a pocket of violence transformed Mendiola into a scene reminiscent of the country’s darker political chapters.
Protest organizers stressed that “99% of participants were peaceful,” condemning the violence as the work of a small group of provocateurs. Police, on the other hand, claimed that the masked agitators were not ordinary activists but unruly gangs masquerading as protesters, intent on sowing chaos.
The truth may lie somewhere in between, but the result was the same: lives lost, bodies wounded, and trust between authorities and demonstrators stretched even thinner.
Aftermath: The Cost of September 21
Government officials swiftly condemned the violence and vowed to file charges ranging from illegal assembly to arson. While minors arrested during the clashes were turned over to social welfare agencies, reports revealed that the majority of those detained were young people. Some accounts even claimed that several were mistakenly accused of attacking police when, in fact, they had only been documenting the rally or taking pictures.
Adding to the controversy, videos have gone viral on social media showing a group of police officers playing Christmas songs through loudspeakers while local Filipinos shouted chants of anger against corrupt politicians. Families of the injured, meanwhile, were left to grapple with the sudden shock of loss and harm. One journalist alleged on social media that certain politicians’ lawyers had paid individuals to infiltrate the rally, stir up violence, and vandalize property. Witnesses reported that agitators smashed stoplights, defaced establishments, broke into a nearby hotel, and even set fires along the roads, escalating what began as a protest into a night of chaos.
For many, the bloodshed in Mendiola overshadowed the central call of the rally: to shine light on corruption scandals draining the nation’s coffers. Yet, it also rekindled a familiar question
why do cries for justice in the Philippines so often end in violence?
September 21, 2025, was supposed to be a day of unity against corruption, a reminder of the importance of holding power accountable. Instead, Mendiola once more became a symbol of both the courage and the cost of dissent. Behind the statistics of arrests and injuries are real people—activists, police, bystanders whose lives were forever marked by the violence of that night.
As the smoke clears, one truth remains undeniable: the fight for justice in the Philippines continues, and Mendiola, with all its scars, stands as both witness and warning.
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