On November 30, 2025, the streets of Manila and cities across the Philippines filled with the determined voices of thousands calling for justice, transparency, and the end of a corruption scandal that has rocked the nation’s government to its core. The demonstrations, which spanned the capital and reached as far as Cebu, Iloilo, and Davao, were a direct response to revelations of massive fraud in flood control projects—an issue that’s not just about money, but about lives and dignity, as many protestors and church leaders passionately argued.
The day’s events were a continuation of a movement that first surged in September, when nearly 100,000 people flooded Metro Manila’s streets to decry the alleged misuse of public funds. But this time, the numbers were fiercely debated. According to the Department of the Interior and Local Government, about 20,000 people joined the anti-corruption protests in Metro Manila, with consolidated police counts reporting over 59,000 demonstrators nationwide. Secretary of the Interior and Local Government Juanito Victor C. Remulla stated in a Palace briefing, “I’m pleased to report that there were no injuries, no acts of violence, no hooliganism, no anarchy. The PNP’s security preparations were followed, and the public also cooperated.”
Yet, on the ground, organizers and human rights groups painted a more sobering picture. Tiffany Brillante of Youth Rage against Corruption argued that the lower turnout—around 3,000 in Manila and Quezon City by some activist estimates—wasn’t due to so-called “protest fatigue.” Instead, she said, it was the climate of fear instilled by the Marcos administration after the September 21 rallies, which saw illegal arrests and detentions. “What the Marcos Jr. (administration) did after the Sept. 21 rallies was arrest, serve subpoenas and intimidate [the protesters],” Brillante said at a press conference. “What do we expect from this? For the people to be afraid to call for accountability. This is what the government wants the people to feel to stop the protests.” She described the intimidation campaign as “perfectly architectured.”
Despite these alleged efforts to stifle dissent, the November 30 rallies still drew a broad cross-section of Philippine society. Roman Catholic churches took an active role, organizing parishioners and clergy to march in their districts. The main rally site—Manila’s historic “People Power” monument along EDSA highway—saw about 6,000 people at its peak, according to police. Protesters gathered at Luneta (3,000), Liwasang Bonifacio (800 to 1,000), and Mendiola (2,000 in the first wave, with a smaller second wave later in the day). Even as recent typhoons battered the islands, delegations from Cebu, Iloilo, and Davao made their way to the capital, undeterred by the damage back home.
The mood was both somber and defiant. Left-wing groups led a separate demonstration in Manila’s main park, bluntly demanding that all implicated government officials resign and face prosecution. The message was echoed by clergy and laity alike. The Rev. Flavie Villanueva, a Catholic priest renowned for his advocacy work, told the crowd, “If money is stolen, that’s a crime, but if dignity and lives are taken away, these are sins against fellow human beings, against the country but, most importantly, against God.” His call—“Jail all the corrupt and jail all the killers”—resonated with many who see the scandal as both a legal and moral failing.
Security was tight. More than 17,000 police officers were deployed in Metro Manila alone, and the Malacanang presidential palace complex was placed under lockdown, with anti-riot police, trucks, and barbed wire blocking access roads and bridges. Organizers reported that some groups were denied formal permits to rally, even when they had verbal agreements with authorities. Karapatan Secretary General Cristina Palabay criticized the “no permit, no rally” policy, saying it was used to justify intimidation tactics against groups like Bagong Alyansang Makabayan (Bayan).
Amid the tension, the question of military involvement loomed. In a country where two presidents have been ousted in the last four decades over plunder allegations, isolated calls surfaced for the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) to withdraw support from President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. The AFP, however, rejected these calls outright. In a statement, the military said, “The unified voice of our retired and active leaders reaffirms that the Armed Forces of the Philippines remains a pillar of stability and a steadfast guardian of democracy.” At least 88 mostly retired generals, including three former chiefs of staff, signed a public letter condemning any suggestion of military adventurism.
The roots of the outrage run deep. Since President Marcos first sounded the alarm over anomalous flood control projects in his July state of the nation address, at least seven public works officers have been jailed for illegal use of public funds and other graft charges. Executives of Sunwest Corp., a construction firm linked to the scandal, are being sought by authorities. In a dramatic turn, Henry Alcantara, a former government engineer, returned 110 million pesos ($1.9 million) in kickbacks he admitted to taking, promising to return more in the coming weeks. Authorities have frozen about 12 billion pesos ($206 million) in assets belonging to suspects.
President Marcos has publicly pledged that many of the at least 37 senators, congress members, and construction executives implicated in the scandal will be behind bars by Christmas. Protesters, however, remain skeptical, demanding faster action and broader accountability. Many called for the immediate imprisonment of all involved and the recovery of stolen funds, pointing to the extravagant lifestyles—private jets, luxury cars, and mansions—allegedly financed with public money.
For many, the fight against corruption is about more than just numbers or politics; it’s about the future of Philippine democracy. The November 30 protests, peaceful yet passionate, underscored the resilience of civil society in the face of intimidation. Whether the government will deliver on its promises—and whether the public’s trust can be restored—remains to be seen. But as demonstrators dispersed that evening, one thing was clear: the call for justice is far from over.