(The author is a student taking up communications and law at the University of Western Sydney. She is currently serving an internship at the Philippine Daily Inquirer.)

PRESIDENT Macapagal-Arroyo did not attend the 23rd Edsa commemoration on Feb. 25. The Vice President arrived, then left after a few minutes. I am a third-generation Australian-raised Filipino. I was there. I stayed.

I was only two months old when the first People Power Revolution broke out. I do not remember Edsa I, but I want to.

And so at the crack of dawn, I was at the foot of the Edsa Shrine, wondering to myself: If democracy was returned to the country here, if this monument of Filipinos with arms raised is so significant, then where is the President and why did my parents still opt to raise me abroad?

I was born in Manila, but as soon as I could crawl, my parents left in pursuit of what is arguably the “Pinoy Dream”—a life away from here.

The year 1986 was supposed to mark the rebirth of the Philippines, a time to rebuild the republic and turn it into the nation it should have been. Edsa was seen as the moment in history when Filipinos were peacefully empowered to stand up against the Marcos dictatorship and recover their lost democracy.

We were given the chance, but looking down that battered highway called Edsa, it seemed how soon we forgot.

In 2001, President Joseph Estrada was accused of violating the Constitution, through perjury, misuse of public funds and illegally enriching himself from illegal gambling bribes. Estrada faced impeachment but resigned, so welcome Edsa II.

No to Edsa III

But now the thought of an Edsa III is embarrassing to the President who first gained her seat in Malacañang through Edsa II. To President Macapagal-Arroyo, another Edsa would not be good for our international reputation, so let’s just forget about it.

“The world will not forgive an Edsa III, but it will instead condemn the Philippines as a country whose political system is hopelessly unstable,” said Ms Arroyo.

The Philippines was ranked 90th out of 177 countries in the 2007/2008 Human Development Index of the United Nations Development Program, which provides a composite measure of human progress and the complex relationship between income and well-being.

The National Statistical Coordination Board in 2006 found poverty incidence in the Philippines at 32.9 percent.

Forty-two percent of respondents in a Pulse Asia survey believed President Macapagal-Arroyo to be “the most corrupt” of the country’s presidents.

And while numbers and statistics are arguable, do not fret as compilation and accuracy of election results has never been the country’s strong point.

The real picture is in the eyes of the people, and, ironically, recognition of this was what I thought People Power was about.

Is this theme now finished?

With or without this global financial crisis, stability never arrived.

Whatever happened to Jun Lozada?

The President has had impeachment complaints filed against her in 2005, 2006, 2007 and 2008. Her husband, Jose Miguel Arroyo, got the head start in 2009 with allegations of his links to the World Bank collusion deals.

Rampant political corruption continues, from the 2004 election fraud, the NorthRail project, the Mt. Diwalwal project, the alleged bribery House members to the scam under the Rural Credit Guarantee Corp., the NBN-ZTE deal and the fertilizer fund scam.

Will it stop with the change in government in 2010?

Whatever happened to Jun Lozada? Is he still “touring” Villamor Air Base, Cavite, Calamba and Laguna? Will he and his family now forever be taking sanctuary at La Salle?

Are we really living in a democracy?

On a global scale, poverty is now part of the Philippine identity.

Record murder rate

The Philippines holds the record in the 2009 Guinness Book of Records as the country with the highest murder rate. We are also ranked highly in journalist deaths in the line of duty.

Edsa was intended to be the moment for the country to take off and move forward. Why do these records reflect otherwise?

As I stand here in front of the People Power monument, the resonant holler from construction workers, strapped and crammed into the back of a semi-trailer, rings in my ears.

In Australia that would be illegal.

“Nothing will change,” said Romar Balagtas, the driver of the battered taxi that brought me from Makati to Manila one day. He insisted on a set fare of P300 until I spoke to him in Tagalog.

“Sorry, ma’am, I thought you were a foreigner,” said Romar, who clearly would have overcharged me if he had the chance.

“Ma’am, passport cover? Sampaguita flower?” cries a desperate street vendor as I stand on the site where freedom was reborn.

They all have their views, they are the victims—but not one will vote in 2010.

‘Retrogression’

“It’s retrogression, not progression,” said my Dad.

During my stay here, my father, a clever savvy character, phones me from Australia. He advises me to constantly watch my back, dress down and only carry what is necessary.

I am not the daughter of a businessman, a politician or an heir to a family fortune. But, regardless, I’m told not to feel too at home, in a place that should really be home.

Last year, my father and mother returned to the Philippines after 20 years of living Down Under. With their childhood memories scattered all over our 7,000 islands, the excitement in Mum’s eyes soon turned to dismay.

Mum was hit with a migraine as soon as she entered the airport. Her face said it all, nothing had improved from the time they were here.

“What happened to the church? We used to go there! What happened to Manila? Where is the river?” Mum said as we drove past the murky, near nonexistent Pasig River.

Culture shock

My two younger sisters, who were here for the first time, gasped and jumped in culture shock.

For the duration of that month-long holiday, my sisters opted to stay in front of their computers attaching themselves back to Australia rather than discovering what should also be their home, the Philippines.

I don’t mean to offend, but my family is just a small piece in the big puzzled view of the global Pinoy. It’s a national problem that has gone international.

These views are real. Or have we all become complacent and forgotten? One drive around Metro Manila speaks a thousand words.

Just as United States President Barack Obama stands strong affirming his commitment to the American people in their time of crisis, our President is supposed to be our pillar of hope.

Her no-show at the Edsa I celebrations leaves me feeling lost.

Has the Philippines succumbed to this spiral of hopelessness and loss of confidence? What does the administration’s near nonattendance mean?

People Power so yesterday

Forgive my innocence, but if it is the day that Filipinos were freed, then why must we suppress rather than express? Oh, that’s right, it’s embarrassing. So, okay, then let us save face.

Let us just leave Edsa to history and move forward. Correct, President Arroyo? We will move forward in the direction Edsa is now known for today.

For many third-generation Filipinos bred overseas, Edsa means the congested road of traffic linking one mall to another, the road where many aspire to have their faces planked on the commercial billboards, and the path “where something happened, just not sure what,” as another Filipino-Australian puts it.

That is Edsa today. People power and national progress are so yesterday.

Traffic is its metaphor. Edsa is the road we avoid in our travels.

What a shame.

The Philippines is blessed with rich natural resources. The Filipino is strong. We have the manpower to move mountains, rebuild towns, topple tyranny and replicate anything.

It’s true our OFWs are the most desired globally. If we are to leave this country, let it be because of the desire to grow and spread the Filipino, not to escape and deny.

A miracle happened in 1986. Unity and consciousness shone on the Filipino people. Is it really us who should feel shame in celebration? Is it really us the world won’t forgive?