PRESIDENT Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s suspension of the rally permit requirement — timed ahead of the September 21 Martial Law anniversary — shines a spotlight on one of the most fundamental rights enshrined in our Constitution: the freedom of peaceful assembly. The move, while welcomed by many, deserves deeper scrutiny, especially in the context of Iloilo City where progressive groups have long marked this date with protest actions.
For decades, the “no permit, no rally” policy has served as both a bureaucratic hurdle and a tool of control. Why must citizens, who already possess a constitutional guarantee, seek permission to air grievances in the first place? The requirement has often been used selectively, enabling authorities to curtail dissent under the guise of maintaining order. Its suspension, even if temporary, strips bare the question: if protest is a right, why should it be treated as a privilege?
In Iloilo City, the experience illustrates this tension vividly. Even with the President’s exemption, groups like Bayan Panay still filed rally permit applications — a telling sign of how ingrained the fear of harassment and red tape has become. It is a sobering reminder that citizens, conditioned by decades of restrictive practices, feel compelled to “ask permission” to exercise what should be freely theirs.
On the other hand, the suspension undeniably broadens democratic space. By removing legal obstacles, more Ilonggos may be emboldened to take to the streets on September 21, amplifying calls for truth and accountability in light of the multi-billion peso flood control scandal. The Iloilo City Police Office has pledged to provide security instead of obstacles — an approach that, if sustained, could build public trust rather than erode it.
Still, skepticism lingers. Is this suspension a genuine embrace of civil liberties, or merely a tactical maneuver to ease public anger? The President himself admitted to being “angry” about the corruption revelations and even suggested he might join protests if he were not in office. Stirring words — but will they be matched by actions that hold officials accountable?
As Iloilo joins the rest of the nation in remembering the dark shadow of Martial Law and in expressing outrage over corruption in government, the suspension of rally permits offers a rare chance to reaffirm that democracy thrives not in silence, but in expression. Yet we must also demand permanence. Freedom of assembly cannot hinge on the whims of whoever holds power. It is not a favor to be granted, but a right to be protected.
So perhaps the more urgent question is this: why stop at suspending the “no permit, no rally” rule? Why not abolish it altogether?
