ONE YEAR SINCE the Martial Law commemoration that brought the struggle against flood control project anomalies to the streets, the country remains flooded—not only by rising waters, but by greed and corruption. As the September 21 “Baha sa Luneta” rally returns to memory, journalists who covered last year’s mobilization revisit the chaos they witnessed and the stories they carried from the streets.
Peaceful demonstrations held annually on September 21 are not new. They commemorate the bloody years of Martial Law under late dictator and former President Ferdinand Marcos Sr., in honor of those who struggled for freedom. However, the mobilization that occurred one year ago took a different turn, as tensions emerged between state forces and demonstrators, and also non-participants.
Behind the coverage were journalists who braved the streets from Luneta to Mendiola to document the unfolding events. With the cameras and pens they wield, they remained on the frontlines despite the rising tensions, determined to capture what transpired.
Choosing to stand where events unfolded, they documented what they witnessed and gave the public a window into the voices and realities on the ground.
Seen through their lenses
Nathaniel Soriano, who served as the chief photojournalist of The Bedan Volume 82, who was covering the mobilization for Altermidya, a national network of independent and progressive media outfits and institutions, never expected tensions to escalate to the extent that they did.
What began as an ordinary moment of documenting the scene quickly took a turn. As Nathaniel photographed alongside his peers from another publication, he noticed people beginning to flee. Then came a whiff of the air, where a “lingering spice” hit him, growing more intense the longer they remained.
He and his peers ran from the source of the smoke, but the sting persisted until they washed their faces with a bottle of water he had brought, before helping others in the area wash off the chemicals as well.
Louela Luna of the Far Eastern University (FEU) Advocate, the official student publication of FEU, shared the same sentiment.
Louela recalled how her clothes were soaked by the water cannon, her eyes burned by tear gas, and her ears reverberated from the prolonged use of a long-range acoustic device (LRAD). She also witnessed people being dragged, struck with batons, stomped on, and subjected to other forms of violence during the mobilization, all under the stated guise of “maximum tolerance.”
With every route seemingly cut off, Louela found herself with nowhere to turn but to “just point our cameras and dodge,” navigating the chaos with each shot as they tried to keep documenting what was unfolding around them.
At the forefront of the unfolding events, both journalists remained behind their cameras, documenting what they witnessed and preserving the stories that might otherwise have gone unseen.
When the memories linger
While washing one’s face may ease the physical sting, the impact of the experience can linger long after the wounds have healed. Marty Apuhin of Matanglawin Ateneo, who covered the mobilization as an intern for Rappler’s MovePH, the publication’s engagement arm, experienced this firsthand after being diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) following the incident.
Today, much of what she remembers from that day comes from the coverage she produced for Rappler, which serves as a record of an experience she could no longer fully recall on her own.
Despite this, Marty remembers police officers being aggressive and violent, more so than the protesters ever were, as tensions continued to escalate on the ground. “I never had a moment where I felt in danger because of the protestors. If anything, takot na takot ako sa pulis,” she said.
She remembers the same scenes witnessed by those on the ground: people running through the streets, tear gas filling the air, street signs and public property being damaged, and bottles being thrown amid the escalating tensions. In the midst of the confusion, her boyfriend’s phone was also lost and was never recovered.
Despite being diagnosed with PTSD and losing much of her memory of the coverage, Marty remains clear about what she witnessed through the photographs and documentation she produced that day.
Accountability a year later…
With class suspensions becoming increasingly frequent due to heavy rains, the flood control anomalies remain difficult to forget for students who continue to experience their consequences firsthand. Marty echoed this sentiment, citing a post by an organization in their university that reported 18 out of 30 school days were interrupted by class suspensions.
For her, the fight for climate justice is also a fight for the urban poor, who bear the brunt of flooding and the failures of inadequate flood control measures.
On the other hand, Nathaniel points to the “looming perils” surrounding the Pax Silica initiative, which he connects to the government’s lack of prompt action and increasingly questionable responses. He said these concerns, alongside other persistent issues under the current administration, have fueled public anger and pushed people to organize and take to the streets.
Meanwhile, Louela echoed the same sentiment, noting that public anger has grown stronger as the effects of flooding continue to worsen. “I see the anger of the public burning stronger than it did last year since the flooding became even worse, affecting more areas and lives,” she said.
For her, the worsening floods have made the consequences of the country’s flood control problems increasingly difficult for communities to ignore.
A year later, the streets may have fallen silent, but the issues that brought people to them remain. For the journalists who stood in the middle of the mobilization, their photographs and stories now serve not only as records of what happened, but as reminders of why the public demanded to be heard in the first place.
As floods continue to displace communities and questions of accountability remain, the work of documenting these realities becomes more than coverage; it becomes a means of keeping the truth visible.
From Luneta to Mendiola, what journalists witnessed was not simply a moment of unrest, but a reflection of a country where ordinary people continue to bear the consequences of government decisions and inaction. A year later, the call remains the same: to remember, to question, and to hold those in power accountable, because when the waters rise again, resilience should never have to be a choice.