"A struggle for a just opportunity that's more than a 'Hallmark holiday'"

"A struggle for a just opportunity that's more than a 'Hallmark holiday'"

A message for International Working Women's Day

It is expected that this International Working Women’s Day is rather reduced to flowers, corporate slogans, and token gestures of appreciation. That by seeing social media posts, messages from the administration, to that of public relations blasts, this celebration of womanhood showcases appreciation of women and her role in this growing society and its numerous contributions to recognise and to emulate with. 

But regardless of their messages, of shallow praises, this day was never meant to be just a celebration—it was born from struggle, a call to action against oppression and exploitation. That, in seeing the realities ranging from rising costs of living, low wages, unjust working standards, and various forms of exploitation against women and the people, a concerned would say that this outweighs the token praises, the mere "thank yous", for it fails to address the problems that also affects women not just the society. 

To cite Klara Zetkin, who helped establish this International Working Women’s Day in 1910, understood that women’s liberation was inseparable from the struggle against capitalist exploitation. As she declared, “The working women’s movement is, in its deepest essence, a movement for the liberation of humanity.” Her vision was not about breaking a glass ceiling for a privileged few—it was about tearing down the entire system that keeps working women in chains. 

Even Alexandra Kollontai, the Bolshevik revolutionary, also saw this occasion as a moment not just for reflection, but for mobilization. She insisted, “The history of women’s struggle for their rights is a history of struggle against the privileges of men.” But she also knew that gender oppression was tied to class, that true equality could not come through mere legal reforms or corporate diversity initiatives—it required the overthrow of the structures that benefit from women’s unpaid labor and economic dependence. 

In the Philippines, this event also urges the Filipina to remember history especially in this time of institutionalised forgetfulness. The contributions brought by those of Gabriela Silang, Trinidad Rizal, Melchora Aquino, Commander Liwayway, Lorena Barros, and others showed that gender equality, women's empowerment, and the likes is not some rhetoric promising women "fully enjoy their rights, have equal access to opportunities, and live free from gender bias, violence, and discrimination" but a serious commitment as that of the desire for national and social liberation. True that in this occasion meant recognising women's contributions in life, but this contributions cannot simply end as displays to adorn the mind but inspires the present and future to cling to an unwitten committment beyond the home, workplace, and society. After all, the overall worsening social conditions still hit women particularly hard as it intensifies their oppression and suffering from unemployment, unequal wages and unequal conditions in the household as that of seeing political scandals and issues on national sovereignty. 

Expect critics downplay this as some "woke" nonsense, that "why not appreciate without the political baggage?" Like those behind Mothers Day whose original call was for world peace, this occasion is not some "hallmark holiday" that reduces statement and assertion into some profit and shallow "appreciation" by the status quo- especially when people still witness a global backlash against women’s rights—from attacks on personal freedom to the exploitation of female labor in the economy be it wages or conditions in the workplace, this commemoration is indeed not some "woke nonsense" and therefore must reclaim International Working Women’s Day as a day of struggle. It is not enough to ‘empower’ women within an unjust system; but rather, fight evenly to dismantle that system itself. 

 Finally, as this note honors the legacy of those who assert the rights and welfare of women, that is, not simply by accepting the crumbs of token reform and getting contented in it, but by continuing their revolutionary fight. International Working Women’s Day is not just a moment to celebrate—it is a battle cry from the home, workplace, and in the society itself.  

“Digital Disengagement: The Choice Between Justice and the Illusion of a ‘Good Life’ in Modern Filipino Society”

“Digital Disengagement: The Choice Between Justice 

and the Illusion of a ‘Good Life’ in Modern Filipino Society”

In contemporary Filipino society, shaped by the relentless tide of social media, a silent but profound choice is being made: the pursuit of freedom and justice or the comfort of an unchallenged, “good life.” This choice, on the surface, seems to lean towards the former—freedom and justice—but the reality is much more complex. Many have already embraced the latter, and this trend is deeply intertwined with the digital world that has come to define modern Filipino life. 

One only needs to scroll through the digital landscape to see the contradiction at play. There are those who call for justice, exposing corruption, historical distortion, and abuses of power. They demand accountability, resisting the cycles of impunity that have long plagued the nation. But their voices exist alongside, and often are drowned out by, the overwhelming flood of nostalgia, sentimentality, and escapism that dominates the Filipino digital experience. The internet, which once held the promise of greater awareness, has instead reinforced the infantilization of the mind. 

The infantilization of the Filipino mind is not just a matter of distraction; it is a cultural conditioning that prioritizes harmony over struggle, comfort over truth. Social media, with its algorithms that push content that soothes rather than challenges, entertains rather than informs, has accelerated this process. The constant repetition of “good vibes only” discourages engagement with difficult topics, branding political discourse as toxic—something to be avoided rather than confronted. The Filipino, fatigued by history’s burdens and present struggles, retreats into a curated innocence—one where justice is secondary to personal peace, and awareness is optional. 

This infantilization is not simply the result of being overwhelmed by information but a deliberate turn away from the hard, often uncomfortable work of critical thinking. It is why revisionist history thrives, why the mistakes of the past are repeated, and why those in power continue to manipulate public perception with ease. The infantilized mind is not one that questions—it obeys, it consumes, it forgets. 

The Filipino youth, particularly those immersed in the digital age, reflect this paradox. A recent study from the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies (ISEAS) reveals that while many young Filipinos express dissatisfaction with the current political system, they also demonstrate a deep desire for change, with 73% wanting to join organizations advocating for socio-political issues. Despite this, the same youth, despite their access to information and technology, exhibit an alarming lack of basic civic knowledge. In one notable incident, a young female contestant on a noontime show revealed she didn’t know what the Commission on Elections (COMELEC) was—a crucial institution shaping the democratic process. Such ignorance, while dismissed as isolated, points to a wider, concerning trend. 

This is the paradox at the heart of the issue: a generation that is digitally connected, globally aware, and yet increasingly disconnected from the fundamental institutions that shape their governance. While young people may be active on social media, where they can voice their opinions on political issues and social matters, they remain disconnected from the deeper engagement that is required to understand the structures of power and governance that directly impact their lives. Their engagement, though loud and often passionate, is more superficial than substantive. 

What’s equally troubling is that this apathy and ignorance are not exclusive to those without privilege. Many of the youth in question have access to technology, education, and social mobility that could allow them to be well-informed citizens. And yet, they often choose to overlook the critical details of governance, preferring the immediate satisfaction of social media fame over the long-term responsibility of being informed, active participants in the democratic process. 

If contemporary Filipinoness is now defined by this struggle between justice and innocence, the future of the nation rests on which desire prevails. Will Filipinos reclaim the difficult path of freedom and critical consciousness, or will they continue to embrace the illusion of a “good life,” content in their ignorance? The answer to this question will shape not only the nation’s political future but also its very identity. 

The Filipino people are at a crossroads, and the question is whether they will rise to the challenge of truly understanding their world. Will they choose to wield their access to information as a tool for societal change, or will they succumb to the allure of digital escapism? The desire for social change is real, but to achieve it, the youth must begin by engaging with the basics of governance, starting with understanding the institutions that shape their lives. Civic participation is not just about protesting or sharing opinions on social media; it’s about being an active, informed participant in the democratic process. 

The stakes are high. As the digital age reshapes the fabric of Filipino identity, the choice between critical engagement and passive enjoyment will determine the future. The Filipino youth, armed with the tools to make a difference, must decide: will they be the influencers of tomorrow or the informed voters who drive the nation forward? The choice is theirs. But one thing is certain: the privilege of being digitally connected comes with the responsibility to be informed. Only through understanding, questioning, and participating can the Philippines truly move toward a future defined by freedom, justice, and civic engagement. 

The Necessity of Socioeconomic Self-Reliance in a Time of Multilateralism

The Necessity of Socioeconomic Self-Reliance in a Time of Multilateralism 

For too long, the Philippines has been led to believe that security and prosperity lie in the hands of foreign powers. From the days of colonial rule to the present entanglements of military pacts and economic dependencies, the nation has been conditioned to look outward for protection and development. But recent events—most notably the tense exchange between former US President Donald Trump and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy—offer a stark reminder that alliances shift, commitments waver, and nations must ultimately fend for themselves. 

The meeting between Trump and Zelenskyy, which ended in diplomatic discord, is more than a spectacle of American realpolitik. It is a lesson for nations like the Philippines, which have long placed their faith in Washington’s security guarantees. The illusion of an “ironclad” alliance is crumbling under the weight of changing global priorities, and the Philippines must now ask itself: Can it truly entrust its survival to the shifting moods of a foreign government? 

This is not simply a question of military affairs. The deeper issue is economic sovereignty. For a nation to be truly independent, it must not only secure its borders but also sustain itself from within. A country that depends on foreign investments, imported goods, and overseas aid is a country at the mercy of external forces. A nation that cannot feed its people, power its industries, or dictate its own economic policies is not sovereign—it is subservient. 

As time goes by, reality becomes “on the position of strength”—and Filipinos have the capacity for such strength, only to have it downplayed, whether by the establishment or by various factors, including the country’s decades-old subservience. This may sound political, but it goes beyond politics; it becomes sociocultural. It is ingrained in how the nation perceives itself, how it defines progress, and how it allows external forces to shape its destiny. 

For sure, some will say, “It is impossible”—especially in the face of threats from China. If so, then what is the point of studying, of building institutions, of training leaders, only to remain dependent on foreign assistance all the time? Blame the oligarchs? How about the very establishment itself—the roots that have nurtured and benefited these oligarchs? This goes deeper than just a handful of elites; it is about the very structure that has kept the country in a cycle of dependence. 

Look at Vietnam—it has allies, but it has also emphasized its own position as much as possible. The “other China”—Taiwan—had to strengthen itself after US support was reduced. And yet, the Philippines remains economically dependent on half-baked promises, channeling its nationalism into aesthetics rather than substance. One must truly question: Why has the country not broken free? 

The post-war years have seen a world increasingly interconnected, with trade pacts, regional alliances, and multinational corporations dictating the flow of capital and resources. But while some hail this era of multilateralism as a triumph of cooperation, the reality is that it has entrenched economic imbalances. The great industrial nations dictate terms, while smaller countries, like the Philippines, remain dependent on exports of raw materials and remittances from their labor force abroad. 

The only viable path forward is self-reliance. This does not mean isolationism, nor does it reject cooperation with the wider world. Rather, it calls for a national economy that is strong enough to stand on its own—an economy that does not collapse when foreign aid is withdrawn or when a superpower’s policies shift. 

Agricultural self-sufficiency must be a priority. A country that cannot feed its people is a country forever vulnerable. Industrialization, too, must be pursued—not as a subsidiary of foreign corporations but through national initiatives that put Filipino industries, innovation, and creativity first. The wealth of the nation must serve the nation. 

Moreover, the Philippines must reject economic policies dictated by foreign creditors and institutions that seek to shape its development in their own interest. The push for self-reliance is not just economic; it is political. A government that is beholden to foreign interests cannot truly act in the best interests of its own people. 

Now is the time for the Philippines to recognize the hard truth: no nation will safeguard its prosperity except itself. The unraveling of supposed “ironclad” alliances should not be met with fear but with resolve. The path ahead is clear—national dignity and survival demand self-reliance. Anything less is surrender. 

Trump-Zelenskyy Meeting Highlights Need for an Independent Foreign Policy in the Philippines

Trump-Zelenskyy Meeting Highlights Need 

for an Independent Foreign Policy in the Philippines

The recent meeting between United States President Donald Trump and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has reignited concerns about the reliability of American security commitments to its allies, particularly in Asia. The heated exchange between the two leaders, which reportedly ended with Zelenskyy walking out without signing a minerals deal proposed by Washington, has sparked global debate on the US’s willingness to uphold its military alliances. 

For the Philippines, the event serves as a reminder of the risks associated with relying too heavily on the United States for national security. The US has historically demonstrated a readiness to deploy troops, escalate conflicts, and engage in proxy wars to advance its strategic interests—sometimes at the expense of its allies’ sovereignty. The Trump-Zelenskyy encounter underscores the reality that Washington’s foreign policy is dictated not by moral obligations or treaty commitments but by what best serves its geopolitical and economic agenda. 

Since assuming office in 2022, Philippine President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. has deepened military cooperation with the US, citing the country’s maritime dispute with China as justification. This has led to an expansion of American military operations in the Philippines, including large-scale joint exercises, the deployment of advanced missile systems, and the establishment of a coordination centre within Camp Aguinaldo. While these moves have been framed as strengthening national defence, critics argue they primarily serve US interests in countering China’s rise rather than securing Philippine sovereignty. 

The Trump-Zelenskyy meeting has reinforced skepticism over whether the US would truly stand by its allies in times of crisis. Philippine Ambassador to the US Jose Manuel “Babe” Romualdez recently acknowledged this uncertainty, warning that Manila must be prepared for the possibility that Washington’s “ironclad” security guarantees may not hold. Speaking at a conference organised by the Foreign Correspondents Association of the Philippines, Romualdez called on the country to bolster its own defences and economic security, suggesting that future US administrations could shift their foreign policy priorities. 

Legal experts in the Philippines have echoed these concerns. Mel Sta. Maria, a former dean of the Far Eastern University’s school of law, described the Trump-Zelenskyy exchange as a stark warning that the US might not uphold its security commitments in the Asia-Pacific, even under a standing treaty. Given these uncertainties, calls for an independent foreign policy have grown louder. 

Rather than serving as a pawn in a larger geopolitical struggle between superpowers, the Philippines is urged to prioritise diplomatic solutions in resolving its disputes with China. Critics argue that the country should not allow itself to be drawn into conflicts that primarily serve US strategic interests. Instead, they call for a reassessment of military agreements, the reduction of foreign troop presence, and a renewed focus on self-reliant defence capabilities. 

As global power dynamics shift and US foreign policy remains unpredictable, the Philippines faces a crucial decision. It can continue to align itself with Washington’s strategic goals, potentially at great risk, or assert a more independent stance that prioritises national interests over external influences. The Trump-Zelenskyy meeting may well serve as a defining moment for Manila to reconsider its reliance on traditional alliances and chart a more sovereign path forward. 

Cagayan Bridge Collapse sparks questions regarding integrity in public works

Cagayan Bridge Collapse sparks questions

regarding integrity in public works

A mighty bridge, once thought to stand the test of time, has collapsed under the strain of an overloaded truck, shaking public confidence in the nation’s infrastructure. The Cabagan-Sta. Maria Bridge—a billion-peso structure built to replace its flood-prone predecessor—crumbled last Thursday night, sending shockwaves through the Department of Public Works and Highways. Six people, including a child, were injured, while four vehicles bore the brunt of the structural failure. 

On paper, the bridge appeared robust, boasting 12 arch spans and nine pre-stressed concrete girder spans. Yet, in reality, it ended in catastrophe—a failure not just of engineering but of integrity in public works. Accusations of overpricing, corruption, and hasty construction for the sake of "legacy" now swirl around the wreckage, raising uncomfortable but necessary questions. 

Officials wasted no time launching a full-scale inquiry. Engineers from the Bureau of Design and Bureau of Construction have been deployed to assess the damage, sifting through the ruins for answers. The immediate cause? A massive dump truck, overloaded with boulders, tipping the scales at an astonishing 102 tons—more than twice the bridge’s intended weight capacity. 

But was the truck alone to blame? Or was this disaster years in the making? Whispers of deeper flaws have begun to emerge—of rushed construction, of political ambition outweighing sound engineering, of an infrastructure boom that promised much but may have delivered far less. 

 Completed in early 2025 at a staggering cost of P1.225 billion, the bridge had already undergone two rounds of retrofitting within just two years of its opening—costing taxpayers nearly P400 million. The same contractor, R.D. Interior Jr. Construction, was awarded both retrofitting projects: first in 2023 for P274 million, then again in 2024 for P115 million. If the structure required immediate reinforcement, was it ever truly built to last? 

 The "Build, Build, Build" program, a signature initiative of the past administration, aimed to usher in an era of grand bridges, highways, and railways. But as Filipinos now look upon the ruins of the Cabagan-Sta. Maria Bridge, a painful question lingers: were these projects built for the future, or merely for show? 

 In the wake of the collapse, political narratives have begun to take shape. Supporters of former President Rodrigo Duterte have circulated an image blaming the current Marcos administration, claiming the project began in 2023 with a ₱274 million budget. However, official records tell a different story: that amount was allocated solely for retrofitting and strengthening the bridge, which was originally constructed during the Duterte administration. Rather than assigning blame, the focus must now shift to accountability—who approved the plans, who cut corners, and who will ensure that history does not repeat itself? 

And to think that most of the projects of the "Build, Build, Build" and "Build, Better, More" happened to be from previous administrations (Aquino, Arroyo, even from Estrada and Ramos), should they blame them as well? Not surprised if they blame Aquino from both Marcos and Duterte camps for the sake of blaming them!

 DPWH Officer-in-Charge Mathias Malenab has vowed that no stone will be left unturned in the search for accountability. “The entire integrity of the structure must be scrutinized to ensure this never happens again,” he declared. Yet, as investigations unfold, the nation watches with bated breath—hoping that from the rubble of failure, real lessons will emerge, and that the roads and bridges of tomorrow will no longer be haunted by the missteps of yesterday.

Willie Revillame's rise as a Celebrity Politician: A Question of Competence in Governance?

Willie Revillame's rise as a Celebrity Politician: 

A Question of Competence in Governance?

At a time when public service ought to be driven by a sense of duty and expertise, the spectacle of television personality Willie Revillame’s bid for a Senate seat raises troubling concerns about the growing sway of celebrity in politics. The Philippines has witnessed its fair share of entertainers transitioning into public office, but Revillame’s candidacy presents a pressing question: Is mere popularity a sufficient qualification for governance? 

A senator’s role is no trifling matter—it demands an understanding of legislation, governance, and policymaking. Yet, Revillame has shown little inclination toward the serious study of lawmaking. When pressed on what laws he intends to propose, his response was shockingly nonchalant: “What do you think I should propose?” Such an evasion speaks volumes. Even more concerning was his follow-up: “I have not thought about it yet because I have not won. Once I win, then I will think about it.” This lack of foresight suggests that he views the electoral process as little more than a contest of popularity, rather than a solemn responsibility requiring vision and preparation. Great leaders step into public service with a clear sense of purpose—Revillame, by contrast, appears to be improvising as he goes. 

His pronouncements on the nation’s pressing concerns—health, education, and employment—were equally nebulous, amounting to little more than platitudes. Declaring “health is wealth” is all well and good, but what specific policies does he propose to improve the nation’s ailing healthcare system? His economic pronouncements, too, lacked substance, with vague calls for increased investment but no indication of how such aspirations might be realized. Without a clear plan, how does he intend to transform his rhetoric into tangible reforms? 

More alarming still is his elementary view of public service. He stated: “So many laws have already been passed. Our job is simply to do good for others. That is why we are called public servants.” While this sentiment may sound noble, it disregards the very function of a senator—to craft, refine, and uphold the laws that govern the land. Public office is not a stage for grandstanding or well-meaning gestures; it requires acumen, strategy, and the ability to navigate the intricate realities of governance. 

Revillame’s lack of preparation was laid bare when asked about a potential impeachment trial for Vice President Sara Duterte. His response? A vague assurance that he would “follow the law and remain impartial.” While neutrality is a virtue, his words betrayed a limited grasp of the impeachment process and the senator’s role in it. His argument was riddled with fallacies, inviting no small measure of public derision. Many questioned whether he possessed the legal comprehension required for such a weighty responsibility. 

His statements also sparked sarcastic retorts from the public. Oliver G. quipped: “Willie, you won’t be able to study the articles of impeachment against Inday Sara because you wouldn’t understand them… But then again, dreaming is free—especially if you’re awake.” Richard R. was just as blunt: “Suddenly he will become a ‘senator judge’? What the heck!” Others went even further, questioning his ability to comprehend the legal intricacies involved. Dinjo C. remarked: “Let us humble this guy, fellow Filipinos. Please,” citing Revillame’s demeanor both on and off the screen. Sonny P. was even more direct: “Why talk about impeachment? Are you even sure you’re going to win?” 

Beyond his dubious qualifications, Revillame’s career is not without blemish. The 2006 Wowowee stampede, which claimed the lives of 73 individuals due to appalling mismanagement, remains a dark chapter in Philippine television history. Though he denied culpability, the tragedy lingers as a stark indictment of his judgment. Then, in 2011, he stirred controversy by permitting a distraught six-year-old boy to perform a suggestive dance on his program Willing Willie, triggering an investigation by the Department of Social Welfare and Development and a mass withdrawal of sponsors. A year earlier, he was widely criticized for demanding that ABS-CBN cease airing funeral footage of former President Corazon Aquino, arguing that it was unsuitable for a noontime variety show. These incidents cast serious doubt on his discernment and ethical compass. 

Despite his professed independence, Revillame has long aligned himself with influential political figures. He lent his support to Joseph Estrada during the tumultuous 2001 EDSA Tres uprising, backed Manny Villar in the 2010 presidential elections, and acknowledged being courted by Rodrigo Duterte and Senator Bong Go for a 2022 run under PDP-Laban. While he insists, “I am affiliated with the Filipino,” his shifting allegiances suggest opportunism rather than a steadfast commitment to public service. 

It is undeniable that Revillame’s generosity and mass appeal have garnered him a devoted following. But let us be clear—popularity is not synonymous with competence. The Senate is not an entertainment stage; it is a bastion of governance where laws are deliberated and policies crafted. His candidacy is symptomatic of a graver malaise in Philippine politics: the ascendancy of unqualified public figures who capitalize on celebrity status to attain power. 

The Filipino electorate must ask itself: Is mere name recognition a valid qualification for public office? Should the nation entrust leadership to those who admit they have no plans, or should it demand leaders who step forward with a clear vision and a readiness to serve? Elections are not mere spectacles of charm and applause—they are the bedrock of a nation’s future. 

The outcome of this election will determine not just the fate of one man’s political ambitions, but the trajectory of the Philippines itself. Like Revillame, expect celebrities babble to and fro about their promises like snake oil to costumers. And perhaps, despite his appeal to the ordinary voter, not all members of the public are easily swayed by celebrity status. Listening to Revillame’s statements, one might conclude that whether he wins by sheer popularity or loses outright, he will be remembered—not for his policies, but for his cringeworthy remarks and past controversies. After all, who could forget his infamous outburst, “You don’t do that to me”? By the same logic, the electorate might well respond in kind: “He shouldn’t do that to us”—by rejecting his candidacy at the ballot box.