Spirituality and Revolutionary Mobilization

Art by Kiara Garcia

In a country where faith saturates daily life, religion remains more than personal belief—it is political currency, moral theater, and a weapon capable of both liberating and manipulating the masses.

Today, Filipino notions of justice, suffering, resistance, and collective action are still informed by Catholicism. The Church’s reputation as the champion of democracy during the People Power uprisings of 1986 and 2001 still reverberates in the national imagination. In its Constitution the Philippines is a secular republic, but public morality is still very much influenced by Catholic teaching and symbolism.

Rituals and traditions, such as masses at protest sites, the praying of the rosary, Marian processions, and candlelight vigils, offer emotional solidarity and organizational structure to political movements. Protesters carry statues of the Virgin Mary, chant prayers mixed with political slogans, and turn protests into moral displays of faith and resistance.

Faith-based mobilization remains a powerful force in contemporary politics too. Catholic bishops, priests, youth ministries, and civil society groups helped lead mass mobilizations during the “Trillion Peso March” protests against corruption and the abuse of flood-control funds in 2025. The language of protest was not only political but also spiritual. Sin was portrayed as corruption. Resistance therefore became a moral duty.

Religiosity and Mobilization

On September 21, 2025, social democratic groups organized a major rally, openly supported by Catholic institutions, youth organizations, and clergy, amid the country’s biggest embezzlement scandal involving flood-control funds. The church mobilization provided the protesters with logistical support and emotional legitimacy. When religious leaders call on believers to “stand for justice,” many understand political participation not as civic engagement but as a sacred obligation.

The Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines has long held that faith should be expressed not only in personal devotion but also in fighting social injustice and protecting human dignity. Many clergy organizations participate in politics in a manner that they find suitable for advancing Catholic social teaching: fighting against corruption and advocating for the interests of the poor. This enables civic participation in protests and movements to be presented as an extension of religious duty, rather than just a political choice.

Smaller but highly organized Christian sects, however, work through different models of political mobilization. The Iglesia ni Cristo (INC), for example, has a strict bloc voting where the members are forced to vote uniformly for the candidates endorsed by the church. This effectively gives the INC electoral power, despite the fact that it makes up only 2.6 percent of the national population.

Unlike the previous groups, Jehovah's Witnesses emphasize neutrality and separation from political activity, flatly refusing to involve themselves in politics. This stems from the belief that earthly politics is inconsequential, and deference to ‘heavenly authority’ is paramount. This position differs from the Catholic Church’s proactive view of politics, which sees it as another medium for pursuing social justice.

Spiritual Symbols and Moral Collective Action

Religious symbolism converts ordinary protests into moral spectacles. In the Philippines, political rallies seldom look entirely secular. There are almost always candles, rosaries, hymns, and public prayer.

The best example is Francisco Mañosa’s EDSA Shrine along Ortigas Avenue, which has a large golden statue of the Virgin Mary, built to commemorate the 1986 People Power Revolution that toppled the Marcos dictatorship. The shrine is both a religious site and a permanent political monument. The shrine commemorates the intervention of Mary, the Queen of Peace, who devotees claim interceded during the 1986 protests and saved democracy itself.

This emphasis on mediation and a peaceful, non-violent form of protest appeals to many Filipinos, especially to the Catholic majority. This form of moral framing is politically powerful because it sets movements outside the bounds of normal policy disagreement. Protesters are no longer mere citizens asking for reform; they are crusaders for righteousness itself.

Promise and Paradox

For many Filipinos, Catholic institutions continue to be one of the few moral counterweights to authoritarianism, corruption, and state abuse. But this very institution has long been in close connection with conservative elites and traditional power structures. Catholic bishops repeatedly rally against divorce, reproduction rights, contraception, and abortion. They can be a powerful political lobby and have the ability to shape legislation and public discourse.

Catholic doctrine has also been directly incorporated into state structures. The 1987 Constitution explicitly guarantees the right to life “from conception,” and local governments have imposed restrictions on contraceptives for years under pressure from religious groups. In practice, the Church wields political influence well beyond the pulpit.

An example of the Church’s influence was the long and contentious struggle over the Reproductive Health (RH) Law. The CBCP actively opposed the measure, arguing that it promoted a “culture of death,” encouraged promiscuity, weakened family values, and violated the constitutional protection of life from conception. 

It became a moral and religious issue, with church leaders urging voters and politicians to oppose the bill’s supporters. But supporters of the law said its primary goal was not to promote abortion but rather to improve access to family planning, maternal health care, sex education, and reproductive health information. The lengthy debate highlighted the way in which religious doctrine can influence public debate in a formally secular state.

This contradiction exposes one of the deepest paradoxes of Filipino religiosity: faith can be a source of resistance to injustice but also a source of obedience, forgiveness, and acceptance of impunity.

Other influential Christian sects reveal an even more troubling relationship between religion and political power.

For a long time the INC has made religious discipline an electoral machine. INC leadership officially endorses it, and INC members are expected to follow the endorsement collectively. Political candidates woo INC support with zeal. Former INC members argue that the system pressures believers to defer their political preferences to institutional directives. 

Although elections are done by secret ballot, compliance is enforced by strict religious dogma about obedience, tight-knit communal networks, and the prospect of social exile for members perceived to be challenging church authority. 

The danger is not in the endorsements themselves but in the culture of unquestioning obedience they foster. Political loyalty is equated with spiritual loyalty. Politicians who have the blessing of church leaders are not just seen as viable candidates but as morally sanctioned choices.

So too with the Kingdom of Jesus Christ (KOJC) of Apollo Quiboloy, a case that illustrates the fusion of charismatic religious authority and authoritarian politics. Through his claims of being the “Appointed Son of God,” Quiboloy built a massive and devoted following. Through mass media, large religious gatherings, and a carefully crafted public image, he became one of the most influential religious personalities in the Philippines. His deep connections with former president Rodrigo Duterte also amplified his profile and political influence, and his public endorsements of Duterte and Ferdinand Marcos Jr. showed the political reach of his religious network.

Quiboloy faces charges of qualified human trafficking, child abuse, and related offenses. U.S. prosecutors have charged him with sex trafficking and other crimes. Court proceedings have featured allegations that some victims, including minors, were subjected to sexual abuse and exploitation within a highly controlled religious environment.

The cultish veneration that many of his followers had for him and fear of social rejection, retaliation, or spiritual damnation were supposed to have kept victims from reporting abuses. The case is an example of how charismatic religious authority, combined with political power and little accountability, can create a situation where abuse is hard to confront and victims struggle for justice.

Separation of Church and State?

The close relationship between religious organizations and political power is also evident in the careers of some prominent legislators. Senator Joel Villanueva is a pastor and senior leader of the Jesus Is Lord Church Worldwide (JIL), a large evangelical movement in the country that was founded by his father, former Congressman Eddie Villanueva.

Also notable are Senator Rodante Marcoleta and his son, SAGIP Party-list Representative Paolo Marcoleta, who are closely linked to the Iglesia ni Cristo. Similarly, the work of Congressman Benny Abante as a legislator is intertwined with his role as a senior pastor of the Metropolitan Bible Baptist Church in Manila. 

The presence of religious leaders in government raises serious questions about the constitutional principle of separation of church and state. Though this principle does not call for the exclusion of religious persons from public office, it does seek to prevent any religious institution from exerting influence over the government. The issue is not that politicians are religious but that religious authority can be turned into political power. 

During a prayer gathering on June 14, 2026, Eddie Villanueva argued that the principle of separation of church and state, as attributed to Thomas Jefferson, means “the protection of the church from the state, not vice versa.”

But when religious leaders dictate political affiliations, beliefs, and discourse, it erodes the very essence of democracy—where each individual human being is assumed to be able to reason and think for themselves. This is a dangerous erosion of democratic debate. Instead, followers are asked to have faith in charismatic religious authorities who claim moral certainty rather than judge leaders in terms of their accomplishments on policy, accountability, or governance. Faith shifts from being spiritual to being obedient.

But faith does not mean blind obedience. The film Conclave (2024) argues that “Faith walks hand in hand with doubt.” Faith requires reflection and discernment and the freedom to face difficult questions. Religious communities that do not allow questioning prohibit their members from expressing their autonomy and individuality.

In his recent encyclical Magnifica Humanitas, Pope Leo XIV highlights the importance of human dignity and creative work—expressing his discomfort with technologies that risk reducing human agency. He emphasized the uniqueness of individuals and their ability to exercise morality, which is at odds with political and religious cultures that value conformity and obedience.

So while certain religious leaders have stressed unity as the strict abidement to doctrine, the broader Catholic Church upholds conscience, diversity, and individuality. This means faith, even within hierarchical traditions, can coexist with the questioning of authority.

Catholicism is still inscribed in the Filipino political imaginary and offers a common emotional language linking suffering, sacrifice, redemption, and liberation. In times of crisis, religion moves Filipinos more than policy papers, campaign platforms, or ideological manifestos could ever do.

Some of the causes for the resistant power of religion can be located in the continuing dissatisfaction with formal political participation and institutions. For many Filipinos, politics has been tainted with broken promises, corruption, and limited tangible change—undermining the credibility of policy-driven appeals or ideological platforms. Religious communities offer immediate, tangible networks of support grounded in social ties and community membership. This renders religion a more accessible medium for collective expression, especially during times of crisis.

But this power comes with enormous danger.

The institutions that can produce resistance can also perpetuate the hegemony of the elite and political establishment. The same faith that makes people oppose dictatorship can also make them silent in the face of abuse. Religion, which unites men by faith, can be turned into blind fanaticism.

Religion must stop being a shield for political dynasties, corrupt alliances, and authoritarian personalities. Churches cannot choose selectively when to exercise moral authority and when to remain silent on impunity, political violence, and manipulation.

What the Philippines faces today is not a question of the role of religion in politics—it already has one. The question is, "How can faith become a tool of democratic conscience?”

The solution is not just bishops and pastors but ordinary believers willing to ask a difficult question: when politicians invoke God, whose interests are they defending?