Against the Rhetoric of Deceit:
Fighting the Continuing, Corrupted Past
and Reclaiming a Nation's Tomorrow
Fighting the Continuing, Corrupted Past
and Reclaiming a Nation's Tomorrow
It has been weeks since the latest corruption scandals came to light, adding yet another chapter to the long and troubling history of systematic thievery perpetrated by bureaucrats and politicians in the Philippines. These scandals are not isolated incidents; they are emblematic of a larger, entrenched pattern of abuse that continues to erode the trust and welfare of ordinary Filipinos.
Cycle of betrayal
Driven by relentless profiteering, these scandals involve allegations of corruption, mismanagement, and glaring irregularities in government-funded public works projects—most recently in flood control initiatives. The revelations are alarming, especially when viewed alongside previous controversies such as the misuse of confidential and intelligence funds by the vice president, and those from the past administrations like the scandal involving the "war on drugs" funded by gambling operations, the Pharmally procurement fiasco, and a slew of other schemes that highlight the pervasive misuse and abuse of the people’s hard-earned money and trust. Each case serves as a stark reminder that the machinery of governance, intended to serve the public, has too often been hijacked to serve private interests.
Call it repetition if you will, but the pattern is undeniable. Despite officials insisting on “differences” or distinctions between each case, the fundamental reality remains: the abuse of public trust is systemic. Billions of pesos allocated for flood management have allegedly been siphoned off through “ghost” projects, substandard construction, and the cornering of contracts by a small circle of favored contractors. The consequences are not abstract; they manifest in communities left vulnerable, livelihoods destroyed, and citizens bearing the cost of negligence and greed.
It is no surprise that these patterns echo the past. Previously, the focus of corruption may have been roads, bridges, and other infrastructure; today, it is flood control and public works. Yet the outcomes are disturbingly similar. Many of these overpriced, under-executed structures fail to withstand natural forces, leaving the very people they were meant to protect exposed to risk and disaster. What is particularly disheartening is the suggestion that these projects were driven more by superficial pride, political showmanship, and opportunities for kickbacks than by a genuine desire to serve the public.
The politico-bureaucratic delusion
The tragedy is compounded by the fact that the Philippines is far from a poor nation; it is a plundered nation. Systematically plundered by those entrusted with its care, citizens are told to accept this theft as “discipline” or “development.” They are fed a vision of the future, one framed in rhetoric, glossy reports, and ceremonial inaugurations. Yet the reality that unfolds is a cruel reflection of the past—a cycle of mismanagement, deception, and exploitation that is at once both tragic and farcical.
For the people, the cost is tangible. Communities bear the brunt of flooding and disasters that could have been mitigated. Families lose homes, crops, and livelihoods, and the social contract between government and citizenry erodes further. For a nation of immense potential and resources, it is deeply pitiful that its trajectory is continually undermined by the very institutions and individuals tasked with its protection.
Unless systemic reforms are enforced with genuine accountability, transparency, and public oversight, the Philippines risks remaining trapped in this cycle: a nation rich in promise, yet systematically impoverished by corruption; a society longing for progress, yet shackled by those who see governance as a personal cash register rather than a public trust.
As an observer, been hearing numerous statements ranging from the need for accountability, blaming the culprits, to that of accusing the entire system for that systemic bullshit: that despite news of "economic recovery" and the likes these corruption scandals in various forms and from past administrations shows that the politico-bureaucratic problem of graft and corruption boils down to their relentless pursuit of greed and interest. These interest seekers, be it from Marcos and Duterte camps been showing clearly that they've "fooled" the people with their rephrased yet hollow promises of reform, transparency, and progress. They package self-interest and opportunism as patriotic duty, cloaking personal gain in the language of national development. Whether through infrastructure projects, procurement contracts, or fund allocations, the pattern remains disturbingly consistent: a cycle where public resources are diverted to serve private pockets, and the citizenry bears the burden.
What makes this even more cynical is the performative nature of these acts. Press releases, ribbon-cutting ceremonies, and carefully curated media coverage are deployed to convince the public that action is being taken—action that is often superficial, temporary, or misdirected. In reality, the structural rot within government institutions allows these schemes to persist, regardless of who occupies the presidency or the halls of Congress. Accountability becomes a spectacle rather than a principle, and whistleblowers or investigative bodies are often sidelined, pressured, or co-opted.
It is not just a question of individual culpability; it is a question of systemic failure. A system that rewards patronage, tolerates mediocrity, and incentivizes self-serving behavior will inevitably produce corruption at every level. The repeated scandals—whether under past administrations or the present—are evidence that graft is baked into the political and bureaucratic culture. Citizens are told to believe in “recovery,” “growth,” and “nation-building,” yet the recurring betrayal of public trust exposes these claims as hollow.
The consequences are tangible: substandard infrastructure, mismanaged public services, stalled economic programs, and the persistent inequality that leaves ordinary Filipinos vulnerable to disasters and economic shocks. Meanwhile, the political elite continue to maneuver within a system that protects them from meaningful repercussions, turning governance into a theater where appearances matter more than substance.
For observers and citizens alike, the lesson is bitter but clear: reforms that only skim the surface will never suffice. The issue is not merely who is in power but how power itself is structured, distributed, and monitored. Without a genuine commitment to transparency, enforcement of the rule of law, and an empowered civil society that can hold leaders accountable, the cycle of corruption will endure, undermining not only economic progress but the very trust that binds a nation together.
Cycle of betrayal
Driven by relentless profiteering, these scandals involve allegations of corruption, mismanagement, and glaring irregularities in government-funded public works projects—most recently in flood control initiatives. The revelations are alarming, especially when viewed alongside previous controversies such as the misuse of confidential and intelligence funds by the vice president, and those from the past administrations like the scandal involving the "war on drugs" funded by gambling operations, the Pharmally procurement fiasco, and a slew of other schemes that highlight the pervasive misuse and abuse of the people’s hard-earned money and trust. Each case serves as a stark reminder that the machinery of governance, intended to serve the public, has too often been hijacked to serve private interests.
Call it repetition if you will, but the pattern is undeniable. Despite officials insisting on “differences” or distinctions between each case, the fundamental reality remains: the abuse of public trust is systemic. Billions of pesos allocated for flood management have allegedly been siphoned off through “ghost” projects, substandard construction, and the cornering of contracts by a small circle of favored contractors. The consequences are not abstract; they manifest in communities left vulnerable, livelihoods destroyed, and citizens bearing the cost of negligence and greed.
It is no surprise that these patterns echo the past. Previously, the focus of corruption may have been roads, bridges, and other infrastructure; today, it is flood control and public works. Yet the outcomes are disturbingly similar. Many of these overpriced, under-executed structures fail to withstand natural forces, leaving the very people they were meant to protect exposed to risk and disaster. What is particularly disheartening is the suggestion that these projects were driven more by superficial pride, political showmanship, and opportunities for kickbacks than by a genuine desire to serve the public.
The politico-bureaucratic delusion
The tragedy is compounded by the fact that the Philippines is far from a poor nation; it is a plundered nation. Systematically plundered by those entrusted with its care, citizens are told to accept this theft as “discipline” or “development.” They are fed a vision of the future, one framed in rhetoric, glossy reports, and ceremonial inaugurations. Yet the reality that unfolds is a cruel reflection of the past—a cycle of mismanagement, deception, and exploitation that is at once both tragic and farcical.
For the people, the cost is tangible. Communities bear the brunt of flooding and disasters that could have been mitigated. Families lose homes, crops, and livelihoods, and the social contract between government and citizenry erodes further. For a nation of immense potential and resources, it is deeply pitiful that its trajectory is continually undermined by the very institutions and individuals tasked with its protection.
Unless systemic reforms are enforced with genuine accountability, transparency, and public oversight, the Philippines risks remaining trapped in this cycle: a nation rich in promise, yet systematically impoverished by corruption; a society longing for progress, yet shackled by those who see governance as a personal cash register rather than a public trust.
As an observer, been hearing numerous statements ranging from the need for accountability, blaming the culprits, to that of accusing the entire system for that systemic bullshit: that despite news of "economic recovery" and the likes these corruption scandals in various forms and from past administrations shows that the politico-bureaucratic problem of graft and corruption boils down to their relentless pursuit of greed and interest. These interest seekers, be it from Marcos and Duterte camps been showing clearly that they've "fooled" the people with their rephrased yet hollow promises of reform, transparency, and progress. They package self-interest and opportunism as patriotic duty, cloaking personal gain in the language of national development. Whether through infrastructure projects, procurement contracts, or fund allocations, the pattern remains disturbingly consistent: a cycle where public resources are diverted to serve private pockets, and the citizenry bears the burden.
What makes this even more cynical is the performative nature of these acts. Press releases, ribbon-cutting ceremonies, and carefully curated media coverage are deployed to convince the public that action is being taken—action that is often superficial, temporary, or misdirected. In reality, the structural rot within government institutions allows these schemes to persist, regardless of who occupies the presidency or the halls of Congress. Accountability becomes a spectacle rather than a principle, and whistleblowers or investigative bodies are often sidelined, pressured, or co-opted.
It is not just a question of individual culpability; it is a question of systemic failure. A system that rewards patronage, tolerates mediocrity, and incentivizes self-serving behavior will inevitably produce corruption at every level. The repeated scandals—whether under past administrations or the present—are evidence that graft is baked into the political and bureaucratic culture. Citizens are told to believe in “recovery,” “growth,” and “nation-building,” yet the recurring betrayal of public trust exposes these claims as hollow.
The consequences are tangible: substandard infrastructure, mismanaged public services, stalled economic programs, and the persistent inequality that leaves ordinary Filipinos vulnerable to disasters and economic shocks. Meanwhile, the political elite continue to maneuver within a system that protects them from meaningful repercussions, turning governance into a theater where appearances matter more than substance.
For observers and citizens alike, the lesson is bitter but clear: reforms that only skim the surface will never suffice. The issue is not merely who is in power but how power itself is structured, distributed, and monitored. Without a genuine commitment to transparency, enforcement of the rule of law, and an empowered civil society that can hold leaders accountable, the cycle of corruption will endure, undermining not only economic progress but the very trust that binds a nation together.
The will to act and fight to reclaim the future
For now, the protests continue to loom over the nation, raising the persistent question: are these movements directed against corruption per se? Against the specific culprits involved? Or against the system itself, which has long affected both camps that once professed unity yet have shown little regard for genuine reform? The continuing past—one that has benefited corruption, entrenched social injustice, and vassalage to foreign and domestic interests—has, in effect, “raped” the nation of its youth and its supposed future.
It is not surprising, then, that the people are determined to “take back the future” from those who claim to stand for the future, yet are busy perpetuating the same patterns of the past. As Ramiro Ledesma Ramos once observed, “A people that has lost its direction and courage is ripe for exploitation”—a stark reminder that without vigilance, ideals are hollowed out by opportunists.
In a parallel reflection on revolutionary struggle, Mao Zedong wrote: “Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.” While his context was different, the essence resonates here: systemic change, if it is to be real, demands more than protest slogans and performative measures; it demands the courage to confront entrenched power structures and reclaim agency over the nation’s trajectory.
The question remains: with such words, will the people take them seriously and evenly counter the rhetoric of those who wish to fool them? Mao’s statement was starkly honest—political power resides in the will of the people, especially those equipped to manifest it. Yet there are always those who beg to disagree be Mao's statement or others like him, insisting that there is no need to change the system, framing corruption and injustice as merely matters of individual morality.
No. Even figures like Mahatma Gandhi, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King Jr. challenged this notion. Gandhi reminded the world that, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world,” emphasizing that moral reflection alone is insufficient without deliberate action to alter unjust structures. Malcolm X insisted, “If you’re not ready to die for it, put the word ‘freedom’ out of your vocabulary,” underlining that systemic oppression cannot be dismantled through words alone—it demands courage, strategy, and the willingness to confront entrenched power. Martin Luther King Jr. added, “Justice too long delayed is justice denied,” warning that patience without action is complicity, and that systems built on injustice cannot be reformed by passive morality alone.
The lesson is clear: morality alone will not dismantle the apparatus of corruption. Appeals to conscience are inadequate when the system rewards greed, manipulates institutions, and protects the powerful. Real change requires the collective will, the organized action, and the courage to confront not only the individuals who perpetrate corruption but the structures that enable it.
The Filipino people, witnessing decades of repeated betrayal, now face a choice: to remain passive in the face of the continuing past, or to assert their collective power to ensure that promises of reform are more than empty rhetoric. The challenge is not merely to call out corruption, but to dismantle the structural enablers that allow it to flourish, so that the nation’s future is not stolen by those who claim to safeguard it.
For now, the protests continue to loom over the nation, raising the persistent question: are these movements directed against corruption per se? Against the specific culprits involved? Or against the system itself, which has long affected both camps that once professed unity yet have shown little regard for genuine reform? The continuing past—one that has benefited corruption, entrenched social injustice, and vassalage to foreign and domestic interests—has, in effect, “raped” the nation of its youth and its supposed future.
It is not surprising, then, that the people are determined to “take back the future” from those who claim to stand for the future, yet are busy perpetuating the same patterns of the past. As Ramiro Ledesma Ramos once observed, “A people that has lost its direction and courage is ripe for exploitation”—a stark reminder that without vigilance, ideals are hollowed out by opportunists.
In a parallel reflection on revolutionary struggle, Mao Zedong wrote: “Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.” While his context was different, the essence resonates here: systemic change, if it is to be real, demands more than protest slogans and performative measures; it demands the courage to confront entrenched power structures and reclaim agency over the nation’s trajectory.
The question remains: with such words, will the people take them seriously and evenly counter the rhetoric of those who wish to fool them? Mao’s statement was starkly honest—political power resides in the will of the people, especially those equipped to manifest it. Yet there are always those who beg to disagree be Mao's statement or others like him, insisting that there is no need to change the system, framing corruption and injustice as merely matters of individual morality.
No. Even figures like Mahatma Gandhi, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King Jr. challenged this notion. Gandhi reminded the world that, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world,” emphasizing that moral reflection alone is insufficient without deliberate action to alter unjust structures. Malcolm X insisted, “If you’re not ready to die for it, put the word ‘freedom’ out of your vocabulary,” underlining that systemic oppression cannot be dismantled through words alone—it demands courage, strategy, and the willingness to confront entrenched power. Martin Luther King Jr. added, “Justice too long delayed is justice denied,” warning that patience without action is complicity, and that systems built on injustice cannot be reformed by passive morality alone.
The lesson is clear: morality alone will not dismantle the apparatus of corruption. Appeals to conscience are inadequate when the system rewards greed, manipulates institutions, and protects the powerful. Real change requires the collective will, the organized action, and the courage to confront not only the individuals who perpetrate corruption but the structures that enable it.
The Filipino people, witnessing decades of repeated betrayal, now face a choice: to remain passive in the face of the continuing past, or to assert their collective power to ensure that promises of reform are more than empty rhetoric. The challenge is not merely to call out corruption, but to dismantle the structural enablers that allow it to flourish, so that the nation’s future is not stolen by those who claim to safeguard it.