It’s been weeks since hundreds of policemen brazenly made their presence felt before the Quiboloy facilities in Davao. Yet I’ve to wrap my head around the fact that it happened at all, now in this day and age when dictatorships are supposed to be a thing of the past.

For that is what it smacked of, plain and simple. Sure, Apollo Quiboloy isn’t exactly a popular figure outside of his congregation. Allegations of child abuse and trafficking don’t help, to say nothing of his ostentatious lifestyle. But all that doesn’t even come close to warranting the massive police action launched ostensibly to arrest him.

The cops were armed to the teeth, charged the premises with ladders and other scaling devices, and managed to breach a gate. But the controversial pastor, who never had a history of arming himself or maintaining a private army, was nowhere to be found. Nada.

So the brouhaha was either of two things: 1) as an earnest attempt at arresting an unarmed civilian, it was a shameless failure in intelligence and, ergo, tactical operations, or 2) as a political statement of authority, it bordered on the overkill. Either way, it left a bad taste in the proverbial mouth.

Barely coincidental was the sudden relief of 35 Davao policemen less than three weeks prior. And then factor in the shuffling of top PNP personnel following the fiasco and one divines the frustration and panic of the overzealous and incompetent.

That June 10 incident, to my mind, served as a message to the former president—Quiboloy being identified as a Duterte supporter—that the current dispensation is a force to reckon with. It was also a trial balloon for the public’s reaction to state power. 
Ferdinand Marcos, Sr. was like so. He militarized nearly all aspects of Philippine life, muscled his way through, muzzled all opposition, and tried to perpetuate his sordid regime were it not for the light and glory of Edsa.

Would that history, despite the adage, not repeat itself?