"Coffee laced ramblings"

"Coffee laced ramblings"

Coffeebreak Blues at Escolta

The sun pours gold on ancient lanes,
Escolta wakes from sepia stains.
Through narrow streets, the whispers call,
Of bygone trade, of empire’s thrall.

A coffee cup, a fleeting pause,
Among the relics time withdraws.
The clink of spoons, a gentle hum,
Of office chatter, moments numb.

Outside, the jeepneys, motorbikes rumble on,
Their colors bright, their engines drawn.
Against old walls where moss has crept,
The stories linger, memories kept.

A fleeting breeze, Manila’s sigh,
Carries the scent of caffeine nigh.
And yet, the grind, relentless pace,
Leaves dreams of rest an empty space.

The river bends, a mirror faint,
Reflecting hopes the years did taint.
Escolta breathes its weary blues,
A fleeting break, a life to choose.

So sip the warmth, let time suspend,
A moment brief that seems to mend.
For in the streets where past imbues,
We find ourselves—Escolta’s muse. 

Coffee and Culture Is a Need

In the morning’s hush, the brew begins,

A ritual warm where thought then brings.

The bitter sip, the earthy ground,

A world awakens in its sound.

Coffee speaks in steaming streams,

Of restless nights and waking dreams.

It fuels the soul, ignites the fire,

A liquid muse, a heart’s desire.

But paired with words, with art, with song,

It makes the weary spirit strong.

A canvas painted with each sip,

Culture blooms from every drip.

In cafés tucked by cobbled streets,

Where poets muse and thinkers meet,

The clatter of cups, the hum of thought,

Are treasures brewed, a gift well-wrought.

So let us pour, let ideas feed,

For coffee and culture are a need.

A taste of life, a soulful creed,

Where hearts and minds will intercede.

How I wish you're here in this coffee break

How I wish you're here in this coffee break,
With laughter shared, and smiles that wake.
The steam that rises from this cup,
A quiet comfort, as moments sup.

The warmth of brew, a soft embrace,
But still, it’s you that I’d rather face.
The world outside may rush on by,
But here, with you, time slows its sigh.

I sip alone, but in my mind,
You’re sitting close, your thoughts entwined.
How I wish you’d join me here today,
To fill this pause in every way.

For in the stillness, here we’d find,
A world that’s gentle, undefined.
How I wish you’re here, my heart does say,
To make this coffee break a perfect stay.

Caffeine-laced thoughts

Caffeine-laced thoughts, they race and soar,

A fluttering mind, wanting more and more.

The bitter sip, the warmth, the haze,

Turning my thoughts into a frantic maze.

With every drop, my pulse takes flight,
Ideas burst like stars at night.
They swirl, they spiral, they twist and bend,
A restless river that won’t descend.

I chase the rhythm, the jittered beat,
As every word seems sharp, complete.
But in the blur, the edges fade,
And clarity is both lost and made.

Caffeine-laced thoughts, they lift, they fall,
Whispering secrets, answering the call.
In the surge, in the frenzied climb,
I find my focus, just out of time.

The cup is empty, the rush subsides,
But still, those thoughts continue to ride—
A quiet hum, a lingering spark,
Caffeine’s whisper in the dark.

"Brewing Thoughts, Brewing Moments"

How I wish you're here, drinking coffee, and with cake,
Carrying your beauty and charm, through your smile that made me wake.
The steam that rises, comes a gentle embrace,
Yet it’s your lovely warmth that I’d rather face.

Over a cup of latte thoughts begin to soar,
A fluttering mind out of Cafe Americano, yearning for more.
Each bittersweet sip ignites a caffeine-driven spark,
Turning my endless musings into a lively arc.

In this quiet moment, time slows its sigh,
But outside, the world rushes by.
I sip alone, yet in my mind’s eye,
You’re sitting close, as ideas fly.

The bitter bite, the gentle heat,
Ideas burst, both wild and sweet.
In every drop, my pulse takes flight,
Thoughts twirl like stars in the night.

With every sip, my heart does race,
Yet it’s your smile I long to face.
The world outside moves fast and loud,
But here, in stillness, we’re unbowed.

I chase the rhythm, the jittered beat,
Yearning for you, my heart’s retreat.
Though caffeine stirs my mind to race,
It's you I long for, your warm embrace.

The cup runs dry, the rush subsides,
But still, those thoughts linger, like whispered tides.
How I wish you were here, my heart does say,
To turn this coffee break into a perfect stay.

In the blur, clarity fades,
A restless river, where thought cascades.
But in your presence, it all aligns,
A perfect pause where everything shines.

The world may rush, but here we find
A place of peace, where hearts unwind.
How I wish you'd join me here today,
To fill this moment, in every way.

Caffeine-laced whispers rise and fall,
But your presence would outshine them all.
How I wish you were here, my heart does say,
To make this coffee break a perfect stay.

Thoughts after the Singaporean example: A Society bound by Duty and Responsibility?

Thoughts after the Singaporean example: 

A Society bound by Duty and Responsibility?

By Lualhati Madlangawa Guererro

The contrast between Singapore and the Philippines is striking, especially when considering the two countries’ histories and economic trajectories. Singapore, a small island nation with limited natural resources, has ascended to the ranks of First World economies. In stark contrast, the Philippines, rich in natural resources, has struggled with widespread poverty, despite its abundance. The key question that arises is: how has Singapore, with a population half that of Metro Manila and no significant natural resources, become so prosperous, while a resource-rich nation like the Philippines still grapples with deep economic inequalities? 

Some attribute Singapore’s remarkable success to the leadership of Lee Kuan Yew, who, despite criticisms of his authoritarian rule, is often seen as the architect of the nation’s prosperity. However, a closer examination reveals that the Philippines, too, experienced authoritarian rule under Ferdinand Marcos for two decades, with 14 of those years spent under martial law. Marcos, much like Lee Kuan Yew, wielded considerable dictatorial powers, yet the Philippines saw its economy decline sharply during his rule. The difference, many argue, is not in the form of governance but in the nature of leadership and the personal integrity of the rulers. 

Lee Kuan Yew, with his Cambridge education and profound commitment to his country, had a unique ability to think strategically for the long-term. His vision, honesty, and dedication to the betterment of Singapore stand in stark contrast to the often self-serving leadership in the Philippines, where political leaders have largely prioritized their personal and family interests over national development. This is not to say that democracy itself is the root cause of the Philippines’ struggles. Lee Kuan Yew himself famously remarked, “I do not believe democracy necessarily leads to development. I believe what a country needs to develop is discipline more than democracy.” While discipline is critical, it is not a panacea, as demonstrated by the Philippine experience under martial law. The problem may lie not in the form of governance, but in the absence of visionary leadership dedicated to national service. 

Jose Antonio Primo de Rivera, the founder of Falange Española, once stated, “The strength of a nation lies not in its resources but in the unity of its people, their strength of will, and their ability to work together for a common purpose.” This statement resonates deeply when comparing the development trajectories of Singapore and the Philippines. In Singapore, unity and discipline formed the backbone of the nation’s survival and success, with a leadership that continuously fostered national cohesion. In contrast, the Philippines remains fractured by entrenched oligarchies, social inequality, and political division, making it difficult to unite the nation toward common goals.

Ramiro Ledesma, another Spanish thinker, captured this spirit of national unity and collective purpose when he said, “A nation is not built on the exploitation of individuals, but through the sacrifice of its citizens for the common good.” This ideal is one that Singapore has internalized, making national development a collective effort. Ledesma’s view contrasts sharply with the fragmented, self-serving political landscape of the Philippines, where the elite prioritize personal gain over the welfare of the larger society. 

Going back at Lee Kuan Yew, reflecting on the Philippines’ past, pointed out that in the 1950s and 1960s, the country had the potential to become one of the most successful in Southeast Asia. He noted that, “This was a pity because they had so many able people, educated in the Philippines and the United States. Their workers were English-speaking, at least in Manila. There was no reason why the Philippines should not have been one of the more successful of the ASEAN countries… Something was missing, a gel to hold society together.” What was missing, he believed, was a unifying force, something that could bind the nation together despite its social divisions. The elites, be it mestizos or indios alike, who were largely disconnected from the masses, failed to create a sense of solidarity with the poor, thus exacerbating the social divide. 

This issue of social inequality is something that economists Daron Acemoglu, Simon Johnson, and James Robinson, the 2023 Nobel Prize winners in economics, have explored in detail. Their research focuses on the interplay between political institutions and economic development. They argue that economic prosperity is not merely the result of geographic advantages or natural resources but is heavily influenced by the nature of governance and the strength of societal institutions. In examining Singapore’s success, Terrence Ho, associate professor at the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy, credits British colonial rule for laying the foundations of a functional civil service, parliamentary democracy, and rule of law. When Singapore gained self-government and later full independence, its leaders prioritized inclusive development, focusing on social investments in education, healthcare, and housing. 

Ho highlights Singapore’s unique position as a country with no significant natural resources, which enabled it to avoid the pitfalls that often accompany resource-rich nations. Many resource-rich countries fall victim to the “resource curse,” where wealth from oil, minerals, or other resources tends to concentrate in the hands of a small elite, with little trickle-down benefit to the broader population. The profits from resource extraction often end up fueling corruption and economic inefficiencies, undermining social development. Singapore, on the other hand, made human capital its most valuable resource. The government invested heavily in education, ensuring a skilled and capable workforce that could drive sustained economic growth. As Ho explains, “Singapore invested heavily in people as its only resource, with education among the largest components of the national budget… This set the foundation for sustained income growth built on human capital development.” 

Singapore’s success also lies in its commitment to inclusive growth. Ho points out that the government has implemented numerous programs to strengthen social security and promote social inclusion, such as universal healthcare, long-term care insurance, and income support for the unemployed. Some critics may argue that these policies prioritize social equity over economic growth, but in reality, Ho asserts, “the reality is that future economic progress hinges on social cohesion and inclusivity.” In a global economy increasingly affected by automation and artificial intelligence, it is the investment in human capital that will determine a nation’s future prosperity. Without inclusivity, economic growth can quickly be undermined by populist movements and social unrest, as has been seen in many parts of the world. 

Some libertarians and centrists alike tend to view the Singaporean model as market-driven, stressing personal responsibility and individual initiative. However, the underlying philosophy of Singapore’s model is not merely rooted in market forces nor mere personal action, but in a deeper communitarian ethos found within many Asian societies. In these societies, the role of the individual is defined by duties and responsibilities within the larger context of societal wellbeing. In contrast to the Western emphasis on individualism, Asian communitarianism stresses the purpose of the individual in relation to the collective good. It insists on obedience to the laws and an individual’s duty to contribute productively, whether in the workplace or society at large. This idea resonates with the Marxist notion of “to each according to his work,” where individual contributions are valued as part of a broader social contract. The performance of one’s duties, and the ability to contribute meaningfully to the welfare of the community, becomes the norm. In Singapore, this sense of duty is cultivated through education and state policies that encourage citizens to see their roles as part of a national effort for collective prosperity. 

Why, then, has Singapore thrived? The answer lies in its authentic, non-pretentious approach to governance. Singapore does not merely pay lip service to the notion of hard times—it internalizes and embraces the struggle for survival as a national ethos. While the country has indeed seen improvements in living standards, thriving business and industry, and urban development, the core of Singapore’s success remains grounded in its survival instinct. For a nation that has historically depended on its port as its main economic engine, survival and sustainability have always been the primary motivations, not mere flourishing. Singapore’s government and leadership recognized that national survival would depend not on complacency, but on constant adaptation, hard work, and relentless pursuit of long-term goals. Every decision, from infrastructure development to social policies, is framed within the context of survival in an increasingly competitive global environment. 

In contrast, the Philippines has struggled with a leadership that often treats “change” as a mere charade. The country’s political setup has become a mishmash of Asiatic, Hispanic, and Anglo-Saxon influences, each perpetuating the status quo under the guise of reform. The oligarchy thrives because it has mastered the art of consolidating power while presenting itself as a democratic force. Historically, this pattern dates back to the Spanish colonial period, where local nobility, the Maharlikas and Maginoos, aligned with Spanish elites in exchange for privileges. These elites, descended from ancient Datus, Lakans, and Rajahs, became the backbone of the Spanish colonial system, exchanging tributes and taxes from the populace for power and privilege. Over time, they adapted to foreign rule, whether under the Spanish or Anglo-Saxon influence, and perpetuated feudal systems disguised as modern democratic institutions. 

This historical context has created a ruling class that perpetuates its hold on power, cloaking it in the language of democracy while maintaining a feudal mindset. This is why the oligarchy continues to thrive, even as the country struggles with inequality and underdevelopment. Filipino elites have mastered the ability to change costumes and adapt to foreign rulers—be they Spanish, American, or even today's democratic setting—while preserving their control over the nation’s wealth and resources. 

Renato Constantino, a Filipino historian, insightfully criticized the Philippines’ failure to achieve genuine independence, noting that the political and economic elites merely exchanged foreign masters. He argued, “The ruling class, then as now, preferred a veneer of democratic institutions while holding onto the feudal relationships that sustained their wealth and power.” Constantino’s words ring true today, as the Philippine elite continues to maintain a system that benefits the few while leaving the majority to struggle in poverty. 

Apolinario Mabini, a key figure in the Philippine Revolution and a proponent of national sovereignty and social justice, echoed the same sentiments about the importance of solidarity and national unity. In his La Revolución Filipina, Mabini wrote, “A people who fail to unite in the pursuit of their collective welfare cannot ever truly claim their freedom.” Mabini’s call for unity and a shared commitment to national progress remains relevant today, as the Philippines remains divided by oligarchic interests and social inequality.

The Singapore model offers crucial lessons in governance, vision, and national development. Unlike the Philippines, where political elites continue to consolidate power under the pretense of democratic change, Singapore has managed to prioritize national survival and development. Its leaders, committed to long-term goals, understood that prosperity cannot be achieved without collective effort, discipline, and responsibility. The Philippine experience, plagued by oligarchy, political apathy, subservience to foreign and local despotism, and feudal tendencies, has yet to internalize these lessons, resulting in an enduring cycle of inequality and stagnation. 

The Singaporean approach, grounded in the survival instinct and driven by a clear vision for national development, offers a pathway for nations like the Philippines to break free from the cycle of stagnation and inequality. By prioritizing human capital, social inclusion, and national unity, Singapore has proven that even resource-poor nations can thrive in an increasingly globalized world. The Philippines, too, must learn to internalize its own struggle for survival and move beyond the still-existing despotic and feudal systems of the past if it is to achieve sustainable progress and prosperity. 

As the late Portuguese dictator António de Oliveira Salazar once said, “A country does not grow out of nothing, it grows by learning from the mistakes of others.” The Philippines must, at the very least, learn from Singapore’s commitment to long-term, inclusive growth and its recognition that survival is not only a matter of thriving, but also of adapting and building resilience for the future. 

Expect the Same Faces: How Surveys, Vote Buying, and Pseudo-Programs of "Action" Undermine the People's Right to Choose

Expect the Same Faces: How Surveys,

Vote Buying, and Pseudo-Programs of "Action"

Undermine the People's Right to Choose

As election season looms once more, the familiar routine begins to unfold. The same old faces—incumbents and political dynasties—dominate every conceivable media platform. Their smiles beam from posters and billboards, their rehearsed statements echo on television screens, and their names remain entrenched in surveys, as though the public’s choice has already been predetermined. This raises a troubling question: Are these leaders genuinely chosen by the people, or are they the products of a political system that relies on surveys to manufacture consent?

Surveys, originally intended to gauge public opinion, have now become powerful tools that influence, if not dictate, electoral outcomes. The electorate is conditioned to equate popularity with leadership ability, as if appearing at the top of survey results inherently translates to competence or public service. This perception creates a bandwagon effect—voters are nudged into supporting candidates who already seem “winnable” rather than those with substantive platforms.

However, what often secures high survey rankings is not public trust earned through effective governance but through a relentless, resource-heavy campaign for visibility. In a system dominated by patronage and political machinery, it is no secret that surveys can reflect not genuine approval but a politician’s capacity to sustain media presence and distribute short-term favors. This setup allows the political elite to entrench their influence, ensuring that the elections become little more than a formality, with outcomes that feel increasingly inevitable.

The Role of Vote-Buying, “Pseudo-Charity”, and pretentious "Programs"

At the heart of this survey-driven system lies a troubling reliance on transactional politics. Instead of focusing on their fundamental role as lawmakers—crafting policies that address the needs of their constituents—many incumbents divert public funds to activities that secure their visibility and perceived goodwill. These range from “pseudo-charity” programs like distributing food packs and organizing medical missions, to outright vote-buying thinly veiled as financial aid. While such efforts may temporarily alleviate suffering, they do nothing to address the systemic poverty and inequality that plague communities.

Worse, this practice reinforces a cycle of dependency. Voters, especially those from marginalized sectors, are conditioned to see their political leaders as patrons rather than public servants. The legislator becomes synonymous with the benefactor, and elections become less about platforms and visions for the future and more about securing immediate, tangible rewards. The feudal undertones of this relationship are clear: power remains concentrated among a select few families and their loyal allies, while the broader populace remains disempowered.

Surveys as Self-Fulfilling Prophecies

Surveys play a significant role in perpetuating this status quo. They provide a veneer of legitimacy to political dynasties and incumbents by reinforcing their popularity, which in turn creates a feedback loop. Candidates who perform well in surveys attract more media coverage, more endorsements, and more resources, further amplifying their advantage. Those at the margins—emerging leaders, independent candidates, and reform-oriented politicians—struggle to break through, their platforms drowned out by the noise of manufactured popularity.

The reliance on surveys also narrows public discourse. Instead of engaging with meaningful debates about policy and governance, the political conversation becomes fixated on horse-race metrics: “Who’s leading?” “Who’s gaining ground?” “Who’s slipping in the polls?” This shallow coverage deprives voters of the opportunity to critically evaluate candidates beyond their ranking. The focus on winnability sidelines the question of whether these politicians are actually fit to serve.

A Feudal System in Democratic Disguise

The Philippine electoral process continues to operate under the illusion of a “liberal-democratic space,” where citizens supposedly have the power to choose their leaders freely. In reality, the system remains deeply feudal. Political families treat their positions as hereditary rights, consolidating their control through vast patronage networks and the strategic use of resources. Elections are reduced to rituals that reinforce the dominance of entrenched elites, while genuine democratic participation is stifled.

The role of surveys in this system cannot be understated. By presenting the same names over and over again as the inevitable winners, they legitimize the status quo. Voters, disillusioned by decades of unfulfilled promises, are left with little choice but to accept the names that dominate the headlines. The result is a political landscape where change feels unattainable and the same faces remain in power, election after election.

Breaking the Cycle

To challenge this entrenched system, a fundamental shift in political culture is needed. First, there must be a renewed focus on the actual responsibilities of legislators. Lawmaking—crafting policies that address poverty, inequality, corruption, and systemic injustice—should take precedence over performative charity and vote-buying schemes. Legislators must be held accountable not for how many survey points they gain but for the concrete impact of their work on their constituents’ lives.

Second, media and voters alike must resist the tendency to prioritize surveys over substance. The narrative of “winnability” must be replaced with meaningful discussions about platforms, track records, and visions for the future. Independent and emerging leaders must be given space to challenge the status quo, and voters must be empowered to make decisions based on informed judgment, not preordained outcomes.

Finally, there must be stronger safeguards to prevent the misuse of public funds for electoral gain. Campaign finance laws must be enforced, and mechanisms to curb patronage politics must be strengthened. A genuine democracy cannot thrive when public resources are weaponized to perpetuate the power of a few.

Conclusion

The upcoming elections are a test—not just of leadership but of the nation’s commitment to democracy. If the same faces continue to dominate ballots because surveys dictate their inevitability, then the democratic process becomes little more than theater. It is time to reject the illusion of choice and demand a political system that empowers the people. The Philippines must break free from the feudal structures that masquerade as democracy and reclaim elections as a tool for genuine representation and progress.

Until then, expect the same faces, the same names, and the same promises—manufactured by surveys and maintained by a system that serves the powerful at the expense of the people. 

The Illusion of Efficiency: On the Self-Centred Corruption of Government under the Guise of Progress and Beneficence

The Illusion of Efficiency:

 On the Self-Centred Corruption of Government 

Under the Guise of Progress and Beneficence

It is a matter of deep disquiet that the modern bureaucrat and so-called public servant, who proclaims to be a “dedicated steward of the people,” has mastered the art of expropriation. Their skill is not in governing for the common good but in extracting public wealth for private gain, all while parading their deeds as selfless service. To observe their actions is to witness an elaborate theater where the people’s interests are invoked as a hollow alibi to justify their plunder. Their rhetoric of dedication, sacrifice, and efficiency dissolves upon scrutiny, revealing an unsettling truth: they are bureaucrats first and civil servants second. 

If such men and women are allowed to expropriate for their own enrichment while pretending their actions are for the people, would it not be just for the very community they claim to serve to reclaim those resources for the common good? Indeed, what moral claim do these officials hold when their every justification rings shallow, every explanation a thin veneer concealing their true intentions? They brandish terms such as “progress,” “national security,” and “development,” yet beneath this surface lies an unrelenting pursuit of self-interest, cunningly disguised as duty. 

It cannot be denied that some of their projects bear some visible fruit—roads are built, schools erected, hospitals opened—but such outcomes, even when real, beg a deeper question: does their work leave a lasting impact commensurate with the resources spent? Are these tangible developments built out of sincere public service, or are they mere tokens, meant to pacify the people and mask the far larger sums that vanish into private coffers? 

Consider, for instance, the audacious request in recent months for “intelligence” and “confidential” funds within the education department. To the uninformed, the justification seems plausible: a tenuous link is drawn between education and national security. But one need not be a cynic to see through the thin reasoning that follows. What business does an education department have with intelligence operations? What “national security threats” lurk within classrooms and libraries to necessitate the allocation of such opaque funds? Upon deeper reflection, the absurdity of the proposition becomes apparent. The true purpose of these funds, though obscured, reveals itself to be far removed from education and closer to the political interests of those in power. 

Is it not reasonable to suspect that these confidential funds—so deliberately hidden from public scrutiny—are less about addressing the systemic issues of education and more about serving controversial and self-serving programs? Worse still, they may very well constitute a covert reserve for “election season,” designed not to advance education but to secure political futures through the ignoble act of vote-buying. 

The proliferation of “assistance programs” provides further evidence of this rot within the system. These programs, scattered across competing factions and clothed in myriad names, claim to be benevolent in nature. They boast of serving the poor, the needy, the forgotten. Yet upon closer inspection, this so-called beneficence unravels. It is not charity or public service that motivates these acts, but rather the cynical pursuit of political capital. Such programs are tools of manipulation, bought with public funds and delivered not out of compassion but as transactions—votes exchanged for the promise of temporary relief. 

One cannot help but ask: do these exorbitant expenditures create a meaningful and enduring impact? Or are they merely another mechanism through which funds are funneled into the private vaults of the bureaucrats, who dress their greed in the language of service? These actions, though cloaked in respectability, reflect the fundamental truth of our time: in the modern government, those who claim to be civil servants often serve themselves first and the people second, if at all. 

The tragedy is not only in the theft itself but in its consequences. When funds meant for education, development, and welfare are redirected toward the enrichment of officials, the most vulnerable are made to suffer. The child deprived of quality education, the family left without access to healthcare, the farmer neglected by agricultural reforms—these are the unseen victims of the so-called “efficient government.” The impact of such corruption extends far beyond the visible; it corrodes the very foundation of society and betrays the trust that is essential to governance. 

This betrayal is made all the more egregious when one considers the audacity with which it is performed. Officials speak of their integrity and selflessness even as they rob the people blind. They appeal to national interest even as they serve their own. They hold themselves up as paragons of efficiency while operating a system that, by design, enriches the few at the expense of the many. 

It is therefore not enough to expose this illusion; the people must reclaim what has been taken from them. If these resources were truly intended for the benefit of the community, then let the community be empowered to ensure their rightful use. Let the concerned folk, who bear the weight of these decisions, expropriate the expropriators—not in the spirit of chaos, but in the spirit of justice. For if government exists to serve the people, then the people must hold it accountable. If funds are to be allocated in the name of progress, then that progress must be real, measurable, and equitable. 

Let no public servant be allowed to wield power as if it were their birthright. Let no bureaucrat fill their pockets while speaking of sacrifice. A government cannot pretend to be both efficient and corrupt without forfeiting its legitimacy. The people must demand more than hollow speeches and token gestures. They must demand a government that serves the public good in truth and not merely in name. 

For it is not enough that a government acts swiftly or decisively; it must act justly. Efficiency divorced from justice becomes nothing more than tyranny in motion—swifter, yes, but also crueler, more relentless, and more dangerous. The people must see through the façade, reject the illusions of progress, and insist that public resources be used not for the vanity of the powerful, but for the prosperity of the nation. Only then will the true meaning of civil service be restored, and only then can the corruption of governance be replaced by the justice of stewardship. 

Between Their Narrative of "Progress" and Realities riddled by "Controversy": Revisiting the "Duterte Legacy"

Between Their Narrative of "Progress" 

and Realities riddled by "Controversy": 

Revisiting the "Duterte Legacy" 

Rodrigo Roa Duterte, the former President of the Philippines, remains one of the most polarizing figures in recent political history. Celebrated for transformative infrastructure projects and sweeping reforms, yet criticized for alleged human rights abuses, his legacy is deeply contested—praised by many, but also scrutinized for its darker dimensions. 

Duterte’s tenure brought tangible improvements that cannot be ignored. Initiatives such as extending the validity of passports, driver’s licenses, and seamen’s books to ten years eased bureaucratic burdens for ordinary Filipinos. The “Build, Build, Build” program ushered in a new era of infrastructure development: rehabilitated MRT lines, airports, bridges, and coastal roads that improved mobility and commerce. Manila Bay, Boracay Island, and the Pasig River were given long-overdue rehabilitation, signifying efforts to balance development with environmental care. 

Social reforms were also visible. Salary increases for public school teachers, nurses, and military personnel offered a sense of dignity to essential workers. The establishment of Malasakit Centers provided accessible healthcare across the nation. During the Marawi Siege and the global pandemic, Duterte’s administration responded with social amelioration programs and contingency measures aimed at alleviating the plight of ordinary Filipinos. 

Yet, beyond these achievements lies a shadow that cannot be ignored. The so-called “War on Drugs”—Duterte’s flagship campaign—has been marred by allegations of extrajudicial killings. Thousands of lives were lost in operations that often blurred the line between law enforcement and state-sanctioned violence. While supporters argue that this iron-fisted approach restored “order” and “stability,” critics contend that it undermined the rule of law, normalized impunity, and betrayed public trust. 

Moreover, the Duterte administration’s track record raises questions about political patronage. Highlighting achievements such as infrastructure development and social programs is undoubtedly valid; these initiatives reflect a functioning government that prioritized national progress. However, framing these successes as uniquely attributable to one leader risks perpetuating a culture of dependency and hero-worship. Infrastructure and welfare programs are matters of state policy, not personal gifts. Praising them as favors, rather than expected duties, reduces governance to political theatrics. 

To see the “legacy” as presented by Duterte’s supporters, a concerned critic might argue that it is not his personal work, but rather the result of national policies that involve an effort between the state and the people. After all, the Filipino people contribute taxes, making the state accountable for the services and benefits citizens receive. Such progress should be seen as the work of a functioning government—not the creation of a single leader. Yet, supporters often frame these developments as the exclusive achievement of Duterte himself, leading to a dangerous idolization that borders on a cult of personality. 

This is further complicated by the irony that Duterte, who once promised to put an end to the politics of patronage, ended up tolerating the very same tactics in his administration. The public celebration of infrastructure and welfare programs in his name risks undermining the principle of collective governance, as it centers power in the individual rather than in the institutions that serve the people. Duterte’s leadership, as shown in these instances, creates an irony that cannot be overlooked. 

Nevertheless, this does not diminish a blatant truth: Duterte, despite his populist rhetoric, swore an oath to uphold the status quo—the political and institutional structures that govern the Philippines. And in doing so, he not only perpetuated the politics of patronage but also reinforced the very framework that allows such politics to thrive. 

A critical aspect of Duterte’s legacy also lies in his foreign policy decisions, particularly his stance towards China. How can one praise a leader who kowtows to a country that claims a part of this nation as theirs? This gesture, often hailed by his supporters as an example of an independent foreign policy, is in reality a troubling example of seeking allies to justify apathy towards a concerned world in exchange for mere “aid.” Worse, the country Duterte so eagerly sought alignment with launders dirty money in its financial systems, a fact that casts serious doubts on the integrity of these international dealings. The Philippines, under Duterte’s leadership, seemed to be compromising sovereignty and principles in exchange for temporary economic favors, undermining its standing in the global arena. 

Regardless of the rhetoric, Duterte was no different from any other ruler. In the end, he upheld the status quo, throwing crumbs to the people while maintaining the political structures that allowed inequality and corruption to persist. The promise of change? It turned out to be nothing more than superficial, aesthetic, performance art—a show designed to distract, rather than to reform. 

In retrospect, Duterte’s presidency reflects a paradox: remarkable strides in infrastructure and public services, yet a troubling legacy of extrajudicial acts, foreign policy missteps, and deep societal divisions. While history will ultimately judge Rodrigo Duterte’s place in the Filipino consciousness, one fact remains: governance must always be held accountable. No amount of progress can excuse abuses of power, and no leader—no matter how celebrated—should be above the rule of law. 

The nation’s future depends not just on remembering achievements, but on learning from the flaws that came with them. Progress and justice are not mutually exclusive; the Filipino people deserve both. 

On the other hand, it may not be surprising that as support for Duterte continues, people can expect a degree of denialism regarding his controversial acts—whether by blaming political rivals or downplaying the situation to uphold their own narrative. Just as Holocaust denialists spread falsehoods to fit their agendas, Duterte’s staunchest supporters may likewise attempt to rewrite history, ignoring or minimizing the human rights violations and abuses committed under his watch. The denial of such truths only serves to protect the mythos of a leader rather than confronting the realities of his policies. 

Regardless of the statements, Duterte was no different from any other ruler. He upheld the status quo while throwing crumbs to the people, masking the harsh truth behind superficial promises of change. It was all but an aesthetic, a performance art designed to project a false narrative of progress. 

A Nation depending on Crumbs: The False Promise of Politcally-motivated "Assistance Programs"

A Nation depending on Crumbs:
The False Promise of Politcally-motivated "Assistance Programs"

In a nation perpetually grappling with poverty and systemic inequality, the proliferation of so-called “assistance programs” such as AKAP (Ayuda Para sa Kapos ang Kita Program), DAFAC (Disaster Assistance Family Access Card), and the 4Ps (Pantawid Pamilyang Pilipino Program) serves as both a symptom and a distraction. While government officials extol these initiatives as lifelines for the poor, they mask deeper issues plaguing Philippine society: the chronic neglect of structural reform, the weaponization of public funds for political gain, and the cynical reduction of social justice to mere handouts. These programs are, in truth, palliatives—meant to quiet the growing discontent of the masses while keeping them firmly dependent on the benevolence of the state. 

The Politics of Patronage and Palliative Governance 

The heart of the matter lies in the interplay of power, money, and moral posturing. Programs like 4Ps are paraded as success stories of poverty alleviation, promising short-term relief to millions of families. Conditional cash transfers (CCTs) have been defended as necessary interventions to improve education and health outcomes among the poor, and to their credit, they do deliver immediate relief. But here lies the question: Are these crumbs truly the answer to systemic poverty, or are they simply tools to placate the masses while deflecting demands for transformative change? 

Let us not forget that these programs are heavily politicized. Beneath the thin veneer of altruism lies the ugly machinery of patronage politics. Bureaucrats and politicians frequently wield these funds to strengthen their hold on constituents. Whether by distributing aid only to loyal supporters or using the programs as performative gestures in election seasons, the motive is clear: assistance is not about empowerment; it is about control. This reliance on the distribution of public funds as a means of political currency renders the people perpetual dependents rather than active participants in their own liberation. 

Moreover, the management of these programs is rife with inefficiency, corruption, and misallocation. Scandals involving so-called “pork barrel” funds or ghost beneficiaries have repeatedly surfaced, eroding public trust in government initiatives. Funds that should uplift the poorest communities often disappear into the pockets of unscrupulous intermediaries—local officials, contractors, or so-called “civil society organizations” acting as fronts for personal gain. These failures tarnish any semblance of sincerity behind the programs, reducing them to exercises in optics. 

The Moralizing State and the Betrayal of Social Justice 

Governments that espouse these assistance programs often frame them as moral obligations. They portray themselves as compassionate entities extending aid to those in need. Yet, their brand of morality is hypocritical. On one hand, they moralize poverty as a condition requiring charity, not justice. On the other hand, they turn a blind eye to the very policies and systems that perpetuate inequality. 

This moral posturing allows the state to reduce people’s legitimate calls for systemic change into demands for temporary relief. It creates a narrative where the poor are expected to be grateful for any assistance they receive, however insufficient it may be. Demands for just wages, agricultural reform, affordable healthcare, or improved public services are dismissed as impractical or radical. In their place, the government offers “poverty alleviation” programs that merely manage poverty rather than eradicating it. 

For instance, consider the agricultural sector, where Filipino farmers remain some of the most impoverished in the country. Instead of addressing landlessness, the lack of agricultural subsidies, or exploitative trade policies, the state doles out token assistance in the form of relief packages and short-term loans. Similarly, healthcare remains largely inaccessible, with poor families relying on free medical missions or medicine drives instead of benefiting from a comprehensive, publicly funded healthcare system. These “solutions” are presented as victories, but they are little more than band-aids over gaping wounds- what more as breadcrumbs passed off as loaves, designed to silence discontent, not address its roots. 

Neoliberalism and the Hollowing Out of Reform 

The roots of these failures can be traced back to the neoliberal policies that have dominated Philippine governance since the post-EDSA period. Following the ouster of Ferdinand Marcos, “democracy” was restored with great fanfare, but it came tied to the global economic orthodoxy of privatization, deregulation, and market liberalization. These policies gutted the state’s ability to deliver meaningful social services while placing the burden of survival squarely on the shoulders of individuals and families. 

Take the years following the People Power uprisings—EDSA I and II—when “Filipino democracy” was resurrected and paraded before the world. Christian democrats, Social democrats, and liberal factions emerged as harbingers of reform. Their slogans promised equity, justice, and progress, yet they kowtowed to neoliberal orthodoxy, privatizing industries and diluting social safety nets. 

Under neoliberalism, poverty is treated not as a product of systemic injustice but as a personal condition requiring charity and discipline. Programs like 4Ps, therefore, emerge as a compromise: a minimalist response to poverty that alleviates its worst symptoms while leaving its root causes untouched. In essence, neoliberalism has hollowed out the state’s commitment to social justice, reducing it to a caretaker for the market rather than a guarantor of human dignity. The proliferation of assistance programs is a direct consequence of this ideological failure—a superficial fix to a problem that demands radical structural change. 

Crumbs Are Not Enough: The Case for Genuine Social Justice 

What, then, is the alternative? The answer lies in a fundamental reimagining of the role of the state and the meaning of social justice. True social justice is not about handing out crumbs to the hungry; it is about building a society where hunger does not exist. It is not about providing token aid to farmers; it is about creating a system where they own their land, receive fair compensation, and benefit from agricultural modernization. It is not about short-term employment programs; it is about ensuring that all workers receive living wages and benefits that allow them to live with dignity. 

To achieve this vision, the state must move beyond palliative governance and embrace policies that empower. This means investing in universal healthcare, education, and public housing. It means supporting local industries, protecting farmers and workers, and challenging the entrenched power structures that exploit them. It means rejecting the neoliberal logic that prioritizes profit over people and embracing a model of governance that places human dignity at its core. 

The Way Forward 

The time has come for the Filipino people to demand more than crumbs. Assistance programs may provide temporary relief, but they will never be a substitute for systemic change. The false promise of these initiatives must be exposed for what it is: a distraction from the real work of building a just and equitable society. A society where poverty is not alleviated but eliminated. Where aid is not necessary because rights are upheld. Where people do not beg for dignity because it is already theirs. 

Until the government stops treating poverty as an opportunity for political patronage and starts addressing its root causes, the cycle will continue. And as long as the people are content with crumbs, they will remain locked in a system that feeds them just enough to keep them hungry. A nation cannot thrive on handouts alone. It is time to demand bread—not crumbs—and the justice that comes with it. 

The Call Beneath the Iron Gate

The Call Beneath the Iron Gate 

Beneath the weight of gilded towers, 

Where gold blinds the eyes of current "lords", 

The sick and poor lie still, unheard, 

While parasites feast on their final breath. 

 “These parasites simply had it coming,” 

I wrote, my hand steady, unshaking. 

The world, I knew, would turn its face, 

Blind as ever to its decaying soul. 

What worth is life to the men of coin? 

Measured in ledgers, sold for grain. 

The healer’s halls, once sacred ground, 

Glimmer false with paper gold. 

“The U.S. has the #1 most expensive healthcare system in the world, 

Yet we rank roughly #42 in life expectancy.” 

A bitter truth, engraved on silence, 

A failing empire of glass and greed. 

Behind the walls where shadows scheme, 

Their power grows like rot on the vine. 

The feast of greed consumes the land, 

While a thousand cries slip into silence. 

 The sword of justice, long laid to rest, 

A rusted blade in a crumbling sheath. 

I rose alone, against the tide, 

To strike where gilded power sleeps. 

 No banners waved, no comrades cheered, 

Just cold resolve, a hollow calm. 

My patience carved this path unseen— 

“Elementary social engineering, basic CAD, 

A lot of patience—it had to be done.” 

 A humble hour, the final meal, 

Cold iron forged from patient hours. 

A 3D hammer, a silenced strike, 

Borne not of madness, but of truth. 

 From shadows deep I carved a path, 

Silent footsteps on tainted earth.

 Again neither banners wave, nor comrades cheer—

 Just righteous anger, cold and clear. 

 The gate is closed, they drag me forth, 

Chains around a man of dust and fire. 

Call me madman, fool, or scourge— 

What I have done, the sickness earned. 

 Upon this hour, I cried aloud:

 “This insult to life is known, endured, 

Yet left untouched by all who see. 

The world decays, and none will fight!” 

 Call me madman, call me scourge— 

The world, asleep, sees naught but sin. 

Yet I, awake, had dared to cry:

 “It’s completely out of touch! 

An insult To the intelligence of the American people!” 

 Beneath the moon, beneath the law, 

I spoke of truths none dared to voice. 

And though they cage this mortal flesh, 

My act remains—a fading spark.

 “Decades ago, many illuminated corruption and greed—

 The problems remain; 

it is not an issue of awareness, 

But power games at play.”

 Let justice rise beyond my fall, 

For shadows cannot shroud the sun. 

The leaves will drop, the tide will turn, 

And silence, too, shall echo loud. 

 The spiral notebook, scribbled hands, 

Forgotten words that stain the earth— 

“Frankly, these parasites simply had it coming.” 

Beneath the gold, the rot endures. 

 Oh winds of time, bear forth my plea, 

For what is flesh but fleeting dust? 

I vanish like the morning mist, 

But truth endures—unchained, untouched. 

 My words, they call an insult’s edge, 

My act, they name a coward’s hand. 

But who will stand, in coming dawns, 

To sweep this sickness from the earth? 

 Oh moon, reflect my sorrowed cry, 

Let spiral winds my voice convey— 

“This world decays, and none will rise, 

Thus I alone have struck the sky.” 

 And when the morning mist rolls in, 

They’ll cage my flesh, condemn my name. 

But truth endures beyond the grave— 

A faintest echo, whispered still. 

 And in the halls where power slumbers, 

May cracks yet form within the stone. 

The parasites taste silence now, 

While I have pierced the heart of night.