Caecus

Chapter 3: The Forgotten Key

The room was packed with young faces, most of them slouched in their chairs, tapping on their phones or staring blankly at the whiteboard. It was another history class, another lecture about events that felt as distant as a forgotten dream. Lucas had been invited as a guest speaker at this university, tasked with sharing his perspective as a journalist on the relevance of history in today’s political climate. But as he looked around the room, he could sense the apathy, the disinterest.

He could hear snippets of conversation as he set up his laptop.

*"Sino na ba ang kailangan natin ulitin? Ang dami nang naging presidente eh."* 
*"Ano pa bang bago? Wala naman nang halaga yang mga 'lesson' na yan."*

Lucas sighed. This was the problem—their history wasn’t just fading from memory; it was being dismissed as irrelevant. The generation in front of him was more connected to the world than ever before through social media, entertainment, and the internet, yet they were disconnected from the very foundation that shaped their nation.

The professor introduced him, and Lucas stepped to the front of the room, the fluorescent lights flickering slightly above. He cleared his throat and began.

“When I was younger,” Lucas started, “I didn’t think much of history either. I thought it was just a subject I needed to pass, a bunch of dates and dead people who didn’t really affect my life. But now, as I stand before you, I realize something. Our history—our shared story as a people—holds the key to everything we are facing today.”

A few heads lifted from their phones, curious. Lucas knew he had to capture their attention quickly.

“Let me ask you something,” he said, stepping away from the podium. “How many of you have heard people say that our history is useless? That it’s just old stories that don’t really matter in today’s world?”

Several hands went up, and a few students murmured in agreement.

“That’s what I thought,” Lucas said, pacing slowly in front of them. “It’s easy to believe that. We’re living in an age of rapid progress, of technology, of change. But here’s the thing. If we don’t understand where we came from, how can we possibly understand where we’re going?”

He paused, letting his words sink in.

“Think about it,” he continued. “We keep voting for the same kinds of leaders, expecting different results. We keep getting excited about promises of economic growth, new roads, new airports, but we never stop to ask ourselves—how did we get here in the first place? Why are we still struggling with poverty, with inequality, with corruption?”

A student near the front raised his hand. “But sir, isn’t that just how politics is? Every country has corruption, right?”

Lucas nodded. “True, corruption exists everywhere. But in the Philippines, we’ve seen a pattern. Over and over, the same families, the same political dynasties, rise to power, promising change. But instead of fixing the system, they’ve perfected it to serve their own interests. They’ve rewritten history in a way that makes us forget their past sins.”

The room was growing quieter now, the students beginning to listen more intently.

“Take the Marcoses, for example,” Lucas said, his voice steady. “How many of you know about the Martial Law years? The human rights abuses? The billions of dollars stolen from our economy?”

A few hands went up hesitantly, but Lucas could tell by their expressions that many didn’t grasp the full weight of that dark period.

“The reason so many people today believe in the myth of the ‘Golden Age’ under Marcos is because they don’t know the real story. Or worse, they don’t care to know. And that’s exactly what those in power want. They want us to forget. They want us to believe that it’s just ancient history, that it doesn’t affect us anymore.”

“But it does,” Lucas added, his voice rising with urgency. “Our economy is still suffering from the debts incurred during that time. And we’re still under the thumb of the same wealthy elites who controlled everything back then. The wealth they accumulated at our expense hasn’t disappeared—it’s still in their hands, while millions of Filipinos remain trapped in poverty.”

He walked toward the whiteboard and wrote a single word: *Education.*

“This is what they don’t want you to have,” he said, pointing to the word. “Not just education in the sense of going to school, but real education. Critical thinking. Understanding history not as a set of facts, but as a living story that continues to shape your life, your opportunities, your future.”

A girl in the back raised her hand. “But sir, we learn about this stuff in class. We know about Martial Law and all that. Isn’t it just that people have different opinions now? Like, some people think it wasn’t all bad.”

Lucas nodded. “That’s exactly the point. We’ve let ‘opinion’ replace fact. The narrative has been twisted. People say, ‘At least Marcos built things. At least there was discipline.’ But they don’t realize that what he built came at a terrible cost—economic collapse, human suffering, and a loss of freedom that took years to restore.”

He paused again, scanning the room. “And it’s not just about Martial Law. Look at how we view elections today. It’s all about who can hand out the most favors, who can give the biggest promises. But if we looked back at our history—if we really understood it—we’d see that this is how we’ve been manipulated for decades. We’re still playing the same game, but we keep expecting different results.”

The students were listening now, their faces more engaged. Lucas felt a flicker of hope.

“History is not useless,” Lucas said firmly. “It’s the blueprint. It’s the reason our economy is where it is today. It’s the reason so many of our leaders are more concerned with staying in power than with serving the people. And until we start looking back—really looking back—we’re going to keep making the same mistakes.”

He stepped back, allowing the silence to settle over the room.

“The economy you complain about? The traffic, the unemployment, the lack of opportunities? These didn’t just happen. They’re the result of decisions made by those in power long before you were born. And they’re still making those same decisions today, because they know you aren’t paying attention.”

Lucas felt the weight of the moment, the gravity of what he was trying to convey. He knew he couldn’t change everyone’s mind in one lecture, but he hoped to plant a seed. One that might grow into something bigger, something that could spark real change.

“If you want to understand why things are the way they are, you have to go back. You have to learn from our history—not just memorize it, but understand it. Because it holds the key to unlocking the future you want. And if you don’t, then the people who only care about power and money will keep using that ignorance against you.”

The rain had stopped, and the room was still. Lucas looked around at the faces before him—young, skeptical, but maybe, just maybe, a little more aware.

He closed his laptop and gave them one last look.

“Our history is not a burden. It’s our guide. And if we ignore it, we’ll remain blind to the truth that’s right in front of us.”

With that, Lucas left the room, hoping that at least a few of them would remember his words when they next saw a politician’s smiling face on a campaign poster.