RECENTLY, 2016 nostalgia dominated the internet: flower crowns, chokers, bomber jackets, and the pink haze of Instagram filters. For younger Millennials and Generation Z, 2016 is often remembered as a carefree year—a fleeting moment before adulthood, algorithm fatigue, and global crises reshaped everyday life. Streaming platforms report surges in “2016 playlists,” and viral social media trends recycle decade-old hits in popular music.
However, is our nostalgia an accurate picture of 2016? Were we really that carefree? Was 2016 truly a utopian time for the world, and especially for us Filipinos? Well, if we look in retrospect, 2016 marked the beginning of a dark political and cultural shift whose consequences we are still living through today.
Duterte’s Unfortunate Presidency
In the Philippines, 2016 represented a decisive political and social turning point. Rodrigo Duterte’s election as president on the 9th of May was widely framed as a populist revolt against entrenched elites. Yet, the subsequent trajectory of his administration illustrated the fragility of democratic norms under populist governance. Immediately upon taking office on 30 June, Duterte launched a campaign targeting suspected drug users and pushers.
Duterte’s Human Rights Violations
According to official police records, a total of 5,882 fatalities were recorded nationwide during the first six months of the Duterte administration. This toll includes 2,041 drug suspects killed during police operations between the 1st of July and the 6th of December and another 3,841 individuals murdered by unidentified assailants from the 1st of July to the 30th of November. One of the most tragic victims during this period was seven-year-old San Niño Batucan on the island of Cebu. On 3 December 2016, he was fatally struck by a stray bullet while inside his home. The shots were fired by unknown gunmen who were pursuing a 17-year-old boy—the intended target—whom they accused of drug dealing. Wilson Batucan—San Niño’s father—said his son was a victim of a “failed police operation.” The police authorities, on the other hand, denied this claim, despite the child’s death. To Duterte and his lapdogs, innocent children were merely collateral damage to their drug war; or more accurately, their war on the poor. The whole situation became even more sinister and suspicious when, on 28 March 2017, unidentified gunmen killed Wilson. Marilou Batucan—Wilson's wife and San Niño’s mother—claims that before her husband's death, Wilson confided in her that he was offered money in exchange for abandoning the pursuit to investigate their child's death.
A Surrender of Sovereignty
In July 2016, the Philippines secured a historic legal victory against China in the South China Sea Arbitration—a ruling that affirmed the country’s maritime rights under international law. Yet, instead of asserting this win, the Duterte administration pivoted toward Beijing, favoring opaque bilateral negotiations that compromised national sovereignty and betrayed the welfare of Filipino fisherfolk. Driven by a desire to prevent territorial friction from obstructing burgeoning ties with China, Duterte essentially asked the Filipino people to abandon their insistence on regaining control over the Scarborough Shoal. Despite the shoal being well within the Philippines’ Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) and the site of a critical 2012 naval standoff, the administration chose a path of concession. What we lost was not just territory, but the safety and dignity of Filipino fisherfolk who depend on those waters to survive. By conceding ground, the Duterte administration compromised our sovereignty and placed China’s interests above our own, rendering our seas increasingly vulnerable to foreign domination.
Duterte’s State Terror and the Return of the Marcos Shadow
As reported on Al Jazeera, just weeks later, on 2 September, a bombing at the Roxas Night Market in Davao City killed 15 people and injured approximately 70 others. In immediate response, President Duterte declared a nationwide “state of lawlessness” the following day. While the administration clarified this was not a declaration of martial law, the move significantly expanded military and police presence across the country. This incident is perceived as a precursor to the institutionalization of a police state, where state forces were granted broader authority to conduct law enforcement operations typically reserved for the police.
By November, another symbolic rupture shook the country: the Supreme Court permitted the burial of Ferdinand Marcos at the Libingan ng mga Bayani. The quiet interment of the late dictator on the 18th of November ignited protests and marked a turning point in the rehabilitation of authoritarian legacies, deepening the climate of historical revisionism. The Supreme Court, in alliance with the late dictator Marcos, Sr., rejected a petition by human rights victims to stop the transfer of Marcos' remains to the same resting place as former presidents, national artists, and heroes of war.
As the year closed, clashes between state forces and the Maute Group intensified in Mindanao, specifically during the siege of Butig in November 2016. The Maute Group reoccupied the town hall, a national high school, and a mosque, reportedly replacing the Philippine flag with that of ISIS. The state’s response—marked by the use of heavy artillery and aerial bombings in the town center—ushered in a regime of heavier militarization that displaced over 16,000 residents. These operations were more than a counter-terrorist effort; they represented the institutionalization of "total war" in civilian areas. Human rights organizations, including Karapatan, documented reports of abuses against civilians who were subjected to arbitrary detention and suspicion under the "state of lawlessness." By treating the entire community as a combat zone, the administration prioritized military suppression over the socio-economic "root causes" of unrest and justified the violence through a “convenient bogeyman,” creating a blueprint for the even more devastating siege of Marawi the following year.
The Trump-Duterte Era
Simultaneously, in the United States, 2016 marked the consolidation of political polarization and the rise of populist nationalism. Donald Trump’s electoral victory in November, initially dismissed by many as improbable, became a defining political reality. Far-right movements became emboldened, reshaping the discourse around nationalism, immigration, and governance. For the Filipinos, this global shift toward "strongman" politics was felt on 2 December 2016, when Trump—then President-elect—held a phone call with Duterte. Breaking from the reproving stance of the previous U.S. administration, who was critical of Duterte, Trump reportedly congratulated Duterte on his leadership and wished him success in his anti-drug campaign. Duterte noted that Trump was "sensitive" to the country’s drug problem and expressed that the Philippines was handling it "the right way" as a sovereign nation. For Filipino victims, global validation translated into local bloodshed, and that the world's silence had shifted into sanction; impunity into policy.
Nostalgia is a selective memory.
Nostalgia is often a selective memory, flattening the reality of our past. While the middle class remembers the year for its simpler digital aesthetics, the masses remember 2016 as the year the "war on drugs" began, claiming thousands of poor Filipinos in the streets of Manila and Davao. By reminiscing with a rose-colored filter, we ignore the rise of reactionary politics that set our current crises in motion. Perhaps it is ignorance, or a coping mechanism for the global crises we encounter right now in 2026, to think of the past through an idealized lens of rainbows and colors. It is not exactly a comfort to look at the reality of our history and realize that we have not progressed much. However, we need to sharpen our minds and not let nostalgia be a tool of cultural amnesia or historical revisionism. Remember to never forget, despite how ugly the truth can be.
THEPILLARS/FEATURES
2016, Without the Rose-Colored Filter
2016 is often remembered through pastel filters and pop playlists—but beneath the nostalgia lies a year that reshaped Philippine politics and normalized violence.

Thaddeus Noble/ThePILLARS



