The images from the September 21 rally against corruption are hard to ignore: thousands, according to independent reports, filled the streets to demand accountability, and clashes were described in which both protesters and police were injured. It is tempting to reduce everything to one simple story of angry citizens on one side and government forces on the other. But that misses the full picture.
Many who marched did so with sincerity. They were citizens who believe corruption has damaged trust, weakened institutions, and made everyday life harder. Their presence was an act of civic participation, a way of insisting that government must serve the public good.
While most joined peacefully, news reports also noted small groups who acted differently. Some were described as agitators, provoking violence and steering confrontations toward chaos. Others appeared to be opportunists, less concerned about corruption than about testing boundaries with the police. A few were reported to have taken advantage of the unrest to steal. These incidents should not distract from the larger truth: the overwhelming majority marched peacefully to demand accountability. Still, these smaller groups often became the flashpoints that dominated headlines, overshadowing the quieter but larger expressions of civic dissent.
Police officers were also in a difficult position, torn between their duties and the anger directed at them. They were citizens who pay taxes, raise families, and live with the consequences of corruption. Many, like other citizens, resent it. Even so, they carried the responsibility of representing government authority. Their assignment was to keep the peace, a responsibility that, in principle, protects both protesters and bystanders. Because they wore uniforms, they became visible stand-ins for the government and thus targets for stones, blows, and anger. That position does not excuse abusive behavior when it occurs, and past incidents of excessive force have left deep scars that fuel public mistrust. Not all officers abuse authority, and many fulfill their duties with restraint. But when abuses do happen, accountability is necessary to preserve trust.
None of this excuses abuses when they happen or ignores the dangers of heavy-handed dispersals. But it recognizes that the frontline is more complicated than uniform versus civilian. When police and protesters see only enemies in each other, the shared frustration over corruption is buried and the very point of the rally is weakened.
The mistrust between citizens and government runs deep and has been earned through years of corruption and failed promises. Shared ground is extremely difficult to see, but it exists in the frustration of both citizens and police over the daily costs of corruption. If both sides remain locked only in confrontation, the root grievance of corruption risks being lost amid the anger.
The real challenge is separating the signal from the noise. Peaceful protest is not only valid but vital to democracy. Violence, whether by agitators, opportunists, or those who exploited the unrest, blurs the message and weakens public sympathy. The police, for their part, face the challenge of enforcing order without becoming a barrier to reform.
The events of September 21 force us to confront an uncomfortable truth: beneath the clashes there is shared ground, an aspiration for institutions that serve, protect, and deserve trust. To recover that ground, both citizens and the government must resist the easy story of sides and instead confront the harder, unfinished work of building a country where corruption no longer robs anyone of dignity, whether protester or police officer.
