OPINION | No Marble Tomb Can Purify a Stain

A nation that buries its shadows in a hero’s garden shouldn’t be surprised when darkness rises again wearing a medal. The Libingan ng mga Bayani is meant to honor courage and sacrifice, yet lowering Juan Ponce Enrile into its sacred grounds is a brazen act of historical erasure, as if marble and ceremony could cleanse a legacy drenched in repression. Flags and flowers cannot rewrite the past. Honors cannot absolve complicity.

For decades, Filipinos have been told to remember and to honor those who fought for freedom. Yet here is a man who helped build the machinery of fear, rewarded with a place among true heroes. It's not just a mistake; it is an affront to memory itself. Every monument, every flag, every official statement cannot erase the blood, the fear, and the disappeared souls that define the era he helped enforce. The question we must ask ourselves is simple: when will the country stop celebrating power and start holding it accountable?

Consider this, the very act of burying Enrile at the Libingan ng mga Bayani is designed to normalize his narrative, to twist history into a story where survival is mistaken for courage, manipulation is mistaken for patriotism, and complicity is mistaken for heroism. How long will we allow the symbols of our nation to be hijacked by those who have caused the most harm? How long before honoring him becomes not just a historical distortion but a moral betrayal to those who suffered?

Enrile's internment is not a tribute—it is a monument to impunity. He was not merely a technocrat—he was one of Marcos Sr.'s key enforcers, instrumental in building a regime of fear.. Human rights groups like SELDA and Karapatan have repeatedly condemned him, citing mass arrests, torture, enforced disappearances, and the systemic use of state terror under his command. Their message is simple: Enrile's hands are stained with the suffering of thousands.

One of the most damning pieces of evidence—the supposed ambush on his car in Wack Wack in 1972—has long been exposed as a sham. A detailed investigation by University of the Philippines (UP) scholars concluded that the ambush was staged. Marcos reportedly instructed Enrile to “make it look good,” using the fabricated incident to justify the declaration of Martial Law. Independent observers, including Oscar Lopez who lived near the site, noted that no one was injured, and the bullet holes in the car were suspiciously neat.

Enrile also benefited personally and financially from Martial Law. Investigations show he controlled multiple logging companies across Samar, Bukidnon, Northern Samar, Butuan, Cebu, and Palawan—many of which were awarded concessions during the Marcos era. Allegedly, these companies employed paramilitary forces to enforce their interests, with deadly consequences. One such tragedy, the Las Navas massacre in 1981, reportedly claimed the lives of 45 villagers.

Corruption was another constant. Reports link Enrile to the Coc Levy Fund scandal, in which funds intended for coconut farmers were allegedly diverted, including a share funneled to Enrile-linked enterprises. His political career was not about service; it was about survival and enrichment.

Even in later years, Enrile actively rewrote history, downplaying atrocities and recasting himself as a patriot. Rep. Leila de Lima accused him of distorting the truth and whitewashing his role in the torture and killings of Martial Law. Survivor groups echoed the condemnation, emphasizing that he used memoirs and interviews to sanitize decades of oppression.

Through all of this, Enrile never apologized. Not for the arrests. Not for the disappearances. Not for the violence. His long life became a shield; his influence, a shield for historical distortion. And now, the very act of burying him in a cemetery meant for heroes is a bold statement: that power, not principle, dictates who is honored.

So, is Enrile a hero? Remember, no hero is born from silence while thousands suffer. No hero is adorned in medals while rewriting history to glorify themselves. No hero is celebrated when their hands are stained with fear, oppression, and complicity. Heroism is not measured by political survival or the convenience of power—it is measured by sacrifice, integrity, and courage in the face of injustice. Enrile's presence in a cemetery meant for true patriots is a stark reminder that honors can be handed out, but they do not create virtue where none exists.

You can polish marble until it gleams, but that won't cleanse the corruption and cruelty underneath. No ceremony can turn complicity into courage. No state honor can turn a co-architect of tyranny into a guardian of democracy. For the survivors, the oppressed, and the victims who never returned, the truth is immovable: No marble tomb can purify a stain.