By Toby Giongco
Bulatlat.com

The First Quarter Storm: A turning point

But the SONA has never been just a ceremonial update on government policy. For decades, it has served as a political flashpoint, a moment when competing narratives of power, resistance, and national identity collide.

Perhaps no moment captures this better than January 26, 1970. It was the SONA that ignited the First Quarter Storm. Spearheaded by Kabataang Makabayan and other progressive groups, the demonstrations that day marked a turning point in Philippine history, challenging not just the Marcos regime but also the broader neocolonial structures that shaped the state.

Two years later, Ferdinand Marcos would deliver his final address before a functioning legislature. After the declaration of Martial Law in 1972, the State of the Nation Address was held every September 21—the anniversary of the declaration—to proclaim his grand project, Bagong Lipunan’s “achievements.” The first address after the declaration of Martial Law was fittingly titled “Report to the Nation after One Year of Martial Law” to which Marcos congratulated himself over his dictatorial rule and proclaimed victory over the rebellions whose growth was a direct response to his despotic rule. The people’s war led by the New People’s Army (NPA) only grew in numbers despite his claim of a “crushed” rebellion. His claims of economic growth would only later be debunked as the issue of ill-gotten wealth, rampant corruption, and the impoverished state of the cities and countryside were to be the reasons for his downfall.

His following SONAs under Martial Law were themed around the progress of his Bagong Lipunan. The September 21 annual speeches ended when Marcos convened the rubber-stamp Interim Batasang Pambansa when he delivered it on June 12, 1978. It was the following year, in 1979, that the tradition of having the State of the Nation Address be held on the fourth Monday of July began.

From Bagong Lipunan to Bagong Pilipinas

Since then, every president—from Corazon Aquino to the dictator’s son, Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr.—has stood before the nation on this day, marking the formal opening of Congress. It was in 2023—exactly fifty years later after Marcos Sr. proclaimed the birth of Bagong Lipunan—that Marcos Jr. declared the arrival of Bagong Pilipinas. 

Fifty-three years have passed since the speech that preceded the collapse of formal democratic rule under Martial Law. Administrations have risen and fallen, each presenting their own slogans—“daang matuwid,” “change is coming,” “Bagong Pilipinas”—yet the structural crises they promised to resolve remain unresolved. The issues that stirred protest in the 1970s—economic inequality, elite domination, political repression—still shape the daily lives of millions today. 

The Filipino people are indifferent whether it’s the self-aggrandizing project of Bagong Lipunan or the crisis-ridden, feud-marked, and widespread killings and disappearances of Bagong Pilipinas. While the Marcoses’ obsession with bago—with rebranding, repackaging, and revising—is meant to signal a new dawn, it often masks the recycling of old systems of patronage, repression, and elite rule.

Changing times, unchanging theatrics

While people are still going to continue watching the president deliver his address every year, there is no denying that it has become predictable. It often begins with statistics and ends with applause, but the realities on the ground reveal a disconnect between the aspirations declared and the experiences of the majority. Claims of inclusive growth are offset by persistent hunger, peasant landlessness, unemployment, and unfair wages. Leaders speak of sovereignty and independence while foreign military presence and economic agreements continue to shape policy behind the scenes.

The State of the Nation—53 years later—remains a mirror not just of the government’s agenda, but of the contradictions that define Philippine society. It is a barometer of how far the country has gone, and how far it has yet to go. Beyond the speeches and statistics lies the deeper question: who gets to define the state of the nation, and for whom? Until that question is answered in favor of the many and not the few, each SONA will be less a celebration of progress and more a reminder of promises unfulfilled.

Better yet, the State of the Nation is not defined by any one president’s sloganeering. No grand project can succeed without the active participation of the Filipino people. And while applause inside Congress may echo with partisan loyalties, may it be from the Duterte bloc or the Marcos camp, it is far from a reflection of the people’s real conditions. Perhaps the more honest portrait of the nation lies not in the televised speech, but in the voices raised at the People’s SONA outside its gates. (DAA)