Marcos: Philippines reclaiming their Futures

 

Ferdinand Marcos Sr., who ruled the Philippines from 1965 until his ouster in 1986, presents a fascinating yet troubling case when examined through the lens of futures literacy. On the surface, his leadership was full of bold visions for the country’s future—nation-building, industrialization, and global prestige. But beneath that veneer, the ways he imagined, anticipated, and acted on the future raise hard questions about whether his brand of foresight served the nation, or merely his own power.

From the beginning of his presidency, Marcos Sr. positioned himself as a modernizer. He invested in large-scale infrastructure projects—bridges, roads, hospitals, cultural centers—that were symbols of progress. In futures literacy terms, this reflected an ability to anticipate the needs of a growing nation and to project a future where the Philippines was seen as dynamic and modern. For many Filipinos at the time, these projects fueled optimism that the country was on the cusp of joining Asia’s rising economies.

Yet, futures literacy is not only about imagining grand projects; it is also about questioning assumptions and preparing for unintended consequences. Here, Marcos’s vision fell short. His declaration of Martial Law in 1972, framed as a way to secure stability and order, revealed a futures mindset rooted in fear of uncertainty and the desire to control it. Instead of nurturing a culture where Filipinos could collectively imagine alternative futures, he closed the democratic space, silenced dissent, and concentrated power in his hands. This narrowed the nation’s future to one man’s vision, eliminating the plural voices that true futures literacy requires.

Economically, Marcos’s foresight was also flawed. He borrowed heavily from foreign lenders to finance his ambitious projects, but this reliance created debt burdens that would weigh down the Philippines for decades. Futures literacy means asking not just “what will make us grow today?” but “what legacies are we leaving for tomorrow?” In this sense, his vision was short-sighted: it prioritized immediate appearances of progress over sustainable, long-term development.

Still, one cannot deny that Marcos Sr. understood the symbolic power of the future. He wrapped his rule in slogans of “New Society” and spoke of transforming the Philippines into a disciplined, modern nation. He used imagination as a political tool, persuading many citizens to believe in his version of the future. But by controlling imagination rather than liberating it, his leadership exemplified a distorted form of futures literacy: it was future-shaping for the few, not for the many.

In the end, Marcos Sr.’s downfall in 1986 through the People Power Revolution was itself an act of collective futures literacy by Filipinos. Ordinary citizens rejected his closed, authoritarian vision and instead imagined—and acted on—a future of freedom, democracy, and possibility. His legacy serves as a reminder that futures literacy is not only about leaders with plans, but also about communities with courage to reclaim the power of imagining their own futures.