"Still, an Independent Foreign Policy is an Ever-Pressing Matter"

"Still, an Independent Foreign Policy is an Ever-Pressing Matter"

By Teofilo Ora

 The concept of an independent foreign policy for the Philippines is not only a matter of constitutional necessity but also an essential framework for the nation's survival, progress, and global relevance. The 1987 Philippine Constitution emphasizes that the country's foreign policy must prioritize national sovereignty, national interest, and the right to self-determination. These principles are enshrined to protect the country from external forces that might undermine its autonomy or dictate its future. At its core, an independent foreign policy should ensure that the Philippines remains a sovereign state, capable of making decisions based on its own needs and aspirations rather than bowing to the dictates of foreign powers.

In theory, this means that the Philippines should have the freedom to set its own course, make decisions in the best interest of its citizens, and protect its resources and territorial integrity from foreign interference. However, despite the constitutional mandate and the rhetoric of independence, the actual practice of foreign policy in the Philippines often falls short of this ideal, resulting in a relationship of dependence that seems inescapable. The country, in many ways, remains a vassal to foreign powers, particularly the United States, even as it contemplates its relationships with emerging powers like China. This situation is not merely a reflection of political realities; it is a historical hangover from the period of American colonization and the lingering influence of former colonial powers in the Philippines' policy decisions.

A Legacy of Dependence on the United States

The Philippines' foreign policy has long been shaped by the relationship with the United States, a legacy dating back to its time as an American colony. Despite gaining independence in 1946, the Philippines has remained closely tied to the U.S., particularly through defense agreements, trade relations, and cultural ties. The relationship was once one of paternalism, with the U.S. assuming a "Big Brother" role, seen in the U.S. military bases on Philippine soil, the economic aid extended to the country, and the political influence it exerted in Manila. While the military bases were officially closed in 1992, the agreements that replaced them — particularly the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement (EDCA) — continue to allow U.S. military forces to operate on Philippine territory, albeit under the guise of mutual cooperation.

This persistent military presence, though framed as mutual benefit and security, often feels like a modern-day manifestation of the Philippines' subordination to the U.S. The Philippines' defense strategy, rather than being focused on enhancing its own capabilities, continues to rely heavily on U.S. support and intervention. Joint military exercises and the promise of American military aid serve as a salve for a country still haunted by the shadow of colonialism and military dependency. The Philippines, despite being a sovereign nation, finds itself often caught in the orbit of U.S. interests, participating in conflicts and security arrangements that may not always align with its own national interests.

This relationship is further compounded by the psychological legacy of colonialism. Many Filipinos continue to view the United States as a benevolent force in their history — the protector that helped liberate the country from Japan during World War II, the provider of economic assistance, and the promoter of democratic values. This mindset often leads to an unquestioning acceptance of policies that benefit the U.S. at the expense of the Philippines. The idea that America will never abandon the Philippines has led to complacency in some quarters, with little recognition of the fact that U.S. interests may sometimes conflict with the Philippines’ long-term goals.

The Complex Reality of China's Rise

In the 21st century, the Philippines finds itself increasingly caught between two superpowers — the United States and China. The rise of China as a global economic and military power has shifted the balance of geopolitical influence in Asia, and the Philippines, with its strategic location in the South China Sea, is at the heart of these shifting dynamics. Historically, the Philippines had little choice but to engage with China, as it sought economic assistance and trade partnerships to bolster its own development. Yet, even as China’s economic power grew, its aggressive territorial claims in the South China Sea began to present a direct challenge to Philippine sovereignty.

China’s territorial expansionism, particularly its claim over nearly the entire South China Sea, directly conflicts with the Philippines’ rights to its Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), as well as its fishing grounds and potential undersea resources. The Philippines, in a move to balance its foreign policy, has sought to engage with China economically, even as it navigates the complex web of territorial disputes and international law. However, the growing assertiveness of China — both in terms of its military presence in the region and its aggressive actions toward Philippine fishing boats and outposts — has complicated this relationship. The Philippines must contend with an increasingly powerful China while also managing its longstanding alliance with the United States, which has been vocal in supporting the Philippines' territorial claims.

Beyond territorial disputes, China's growing influence in the Philippines through investment, infrastructure projects, and trade has created a sense of economic dependency. While economic partnerships are necessary for national development, the Philippines must be cautious not to become overly reliant on China, which has shown it is willing to use its economic clout to influence political decisions in the region. The ongoing problem of Chinese crime syndicates operating within the Philippines, involved in activities such as offshore gambling, money laundering, and cybercrime, further complicates the relationship and raises questions about the true cost of economic cooperation with China.

The Need for a Genuine Independent Foreign Policy

In this context, the call for an independent foreign policy has never been more pressing. The Philippines must seek to strengthen its sovereignty, avoid being caught in the crossfire of superpower competition, and prioritize its national interest above external influences. An independent foreign policy requires the Philippines to foster genuine self-reliance, particularly in its defense capabilities, rather than continuing to rely on foreign powers — whether the U.S. or China — to guarantee its security. The country's political and military leaders must recognize that relying on foreign alliances can create vulnerabilities and perpetuate dependency.

True self-reliance entails strengthening the country’s own military and defense capabilities, improving intelligence and surveillance systems, and ensuring that the Philippines can defend its territory and interests without external assistance. It also requires a robust economic strategy that promotes self-sufficiency, with a focus on developing local industries, reducing dependency on foreign aid, and investing in homegrown innovation.

Furthermore, the Philippines must focus on regional diplomacy, forging deeper and more equitable partnerships with other nations in Southeast Asia, and engaging in multilateral efforts to address security and economic challenges. The Philippines should also champion its claims in the South China Sea in international forums, building alliances with countries that share its concerns about China's territorial expansion, and ensuring that its voice is heard in the global community.

The Philippines must act as a unifying force for its people. In a world increasingly shaped by competition between the U.S., China, and other global powers, the Philippines should never allow itself to become a pawn in larger geopolitical struggles. The people of the Philippines must be emboldened by their history, and by the sacrifices made during the darkest days of war, to understand that national interest must be the basis for all decisions in foreign policy.

Conclusion: A Call for National Unity and Independence

The Philippines must learn from its past mistakes, from the painful experiences of Tirad Pass, Balangiga, Bataan and Corregidor, to avoid being dragged into conflicts it did not initiate or choose. If war comes again, it should not be of the Philippines' making. The nation's independence must not be sacrificed for the promises of foreign powers, whether they come in the form of military aid, trade agreements, or economic assistance. Instead, the Philippines must stand united under a singular, national vision, putting the interests of its citizens first.

A truly independent foreign policy will be difficult to achieve, especially for a small and vulnerable nation like the Philippines. However, it is essential for the country’s long-term survival and prosperity. The Philippines must assert itself as a sovereign state — one that can navigate the complexities of the modern world with confidence, armed not with foreign backing, but with a resolute commitment to its own future. The nation must rise above the legacies of colonialism, dependency, and subservience to foreign powers, embracing instead a path of strength, diplomacy, and true self-determination. Only then can the Philippines truly claim its place in the world, on its own terms. 

The Desire for Freedom in the Age of Contentment

The Desire for Freedom in the Age of Contentment 

A note for Bonifacio Day 

As the nation commemorates Andrés Bonifacio, the leader of the Philippine Revolution, it confronts a sobering question: how much of his legacy truly resonates today? Bonifacio, who ignited the fight for freedom and justice, might be disheartened by a society that seems to have traded revolutionary zeal for contentment and distraction. In the face of persistent challenges, has the spirit of resistance faded into the background of modern life?  

For many Filipinos, history feels distant, its relevance questioned in a world dominated by personal struggles and the comforts of convenience. The contentment people enjoy—amidst societal complexities and inequalities—often becomes an escape from the country’s enduring truths. These are truths that have haunted the Philippines for decades, if not centuries: corruption, inequality, and the erosion of sovereignty.

 This detachment is reflected in everyday choices. When confronted with issues of national importance, such as congressional investigations, many find it easier to turn toward escapism, immersing themselves in showbiz gossip or fleeting online trends. The clamor for unity, once a rallying cry of revolutions, now feels idealistic, drowned out by a culture increasingly preoccupied with personal fantasies and individual concerns. 

 But there are those who refuse to accept this hollow contentment. To them, the words “Of what democracy, if it is not for the poor?” remain a question that's to be addressed as other questions to resolve wirh. They understand that democracy cannot thrive without justice, and justice cannot prevail without action. For these individuals, Bonifacio’s revolution is not a distant memory but a call to reclaim the ideals of liberty and equality in a society where those ideals have been nearly extinguished.

To honour Bonifacio’s legacy was never about retreating into comfort but rather acknowledge the burden of responsibility that he passed down: the duty to carry the books of knowledge and to wield the torches of liberty. This burden falls on those who dare to confront the uncomfortable truths of the nation, those who choose to push back against apathy and stand for justice. It is a call for the people to reignite the light of freedom, even in an era that often mistakes complacency for progress. His revolution was born of indignation and a refusal to accept oppression. True freedom, as he envisioned, is not simply the absence of tyranny or the presence of material comforts. It is an active, unrelenting commitment to justice, dignity, and the pursuit of a higher ideal—a commitment that demands engagement and sacrifice. 

 In this age of contentment, the revolutionary spirit must not be allowed to wither. Freedom, as Bonifacio understood, requires vigilance and collective action. His struggle was not for a complacent nation but for one that continuously strives to confront its realities, however difficult or uncomfortable they may be. And Bonifacio’s legacy challenges every Filipino to look beyond personal contentment and into the heart of a nation still yearning for true freedom. 

 As the nation reflects on Bonifacio’s life this day, it faces a choice: Will it continue to retreat into distractions, or will it reclaim the spirit of engagement and action that Bonifacio exemplified? Will they answer the call, or will they allow the torch to dim under the weight of comfort that pretends to be enough? The Great Plebeian’s revolution was not for those content to dream but for those willing to awaken and shape their own reality. 

His enduring legacy challenges the nation to do no less.

At Your Grave, Maypagasa!

At Your Grave, Maypagasa!

 And once again, it’s thirty past, 

my heart beats fierce, a steadfast fire, 

For now you call us, bold and true, 

to gather where your deeds inspire. 

 To Maragondon’s fateful ground, 

where justice broke and blood was sown, 

The soil, once torn by treachery, 

now blooms a grave of stone upon. 

 On this day bright with freedom’s flame, 

in every heart, your fight revives, 

We come with reverence and resolve, 

to honor how your spirit thrives. 

 The morning sun through palm trees gleams,

 as winds of freedom gently blow, 

Its rays, like whispers from the past, 

light up your cross for us to know. 

 The courage of those who defied, 

who raised the banner, stood their ground, 

Still flows through hills, through sea and sky, 

from your grave where our strength is found. 

 And those in chains, their voices hushed, 

their dreams of freedom held in strain, 

Were fed by hope that would not die, 

for in their hearts, your grave remained. 

 When our people, strong and proud, 

shall face the trials that yet may come, 

The grave you bore will shine above, 

and lead us to a brighter sun. 

 Next year, perhaps, I won’t be here, 

but how can I not heed your call?

 For when my comrades rise again, 

I’ll stand before your grave with all. 

 Through your fight, I see our past, 

no other future can I seek,

 For year by year, I’ll stand and cry, 

Present! where your grave will speak.

The Revolution Revisited: The Philippines' Illusion of Independence and the Quiet Embrace of Dependency

The Revolution Revisited:
The Philippines' Illusion of Independence

and the Quiet Embrace of Dependency

The Philippines' history is punctuated by a series of revolutionary acts that sought to shake off colonial chains. The early revolt against Spanish rule, the subsequent struggle against American imperialism, and the eventual declaration of independence in 1946 represent significant milestones in the nation's quest for self-determination. Yet, despite the formal attainment of political freedom, the nation remains trapped in a paradox. Although independent on paper, the Philippines continues to depend heavily on external forces—economic, cultural, and military—which severely limits its sovereignty. In many ways, the revolution for true independence is ongoing, not in the form of armed resistance but in the form of a deeper, more insidious struggle for autonomy and self-reliance.

This paradox of freedom and dependence is a critical aspect of the country's modern condition. The Philippines is a nation that, despite its formal independence, remains entrapped in cycles of dependency that often disguise themselves as freedom. This situation has led to what can be described as an illusion of independence—a national narrative where sovereignty is celebrated but, in practical terms, seldom realized. Seen through a hyperrealist lens, the Philippines’ pursuit of independence appears more symbolic than substantive, a struggle for identity rather than a true revolution of self-sufficiency.

The Literary Revolution: Rizal and the Ilustrado Mindset

To understand the roots of this paradox, it is necessary to look at the intellectual underpinnings of the Filipino revolution, particularly the vision of José Rizal, the national hero who is often revered as the intellectual father of the Philippines’ independence movement. Rizal’s literary works Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo were foundational to Filipino nationalism, igniting a sense of resistance and inspiring a generation of revolutionaries. However, Rizal’s understanding of independence was shaped by a distinctly Ilustrado (enlightened) mindset that presents a complex and somewhat elitist view of sovereignty.

Rizal, unlike more radical figures such as Andrés Bonifacio, did not envision a violent, immediate revolution. Instead, he believed that true independence would only be possible once the Filipino people had undergone significant moral, intellectual, and cultural transformation. He saw the path to self-governance not as one of rebellion but as a gradual process of education and social reform. Rizal proposed that Filipinos should first prove their worthiness for independence by demonstrating their moral and intellectual development, which would enable them to govern themselves responsibly.

This vision, however, was fraught with contradictions. While it proposed gradualism and self-improvement, it was also inherently elitist—focused on the educated classes and their potential to lead a reformed society. This did not resonate with the vast majority of Filipinos at the time, many of whom were illiterate and impoverished, enduring harsh conditions under both Spanish and American colonial rule. Rizal’s intellectual reformist approach was disconnected from the realities of everyday life for the oppressed masses. In contrast, figures like Bonifacio, who led the Katipunan in armed revolt, argued for immediate, radical change, driven by the urgency of achieving freedom now.

This division between the ideals of the Ilustrado intellectuals and the mass-based revolutionary fervor exemplifies the internal contradictions that would characterize the Filipino struggle for independence. Rizal’s vision required slow, painstaking social engineering, while the masses, suffering under colonial oppression, demanded immediate liberation. This ideological fracture, while important in the context of the revolution, also points to the tension that would persist after independence was formally achieved—a tension between the ideals of self-determination and the practicalities of national life in a globalized world.

The Ongoing Struggle: From Colonization to Consumerism

In the post-colonial era, while the Philippines may have broken free from direct colonial rule, the country remains trapped in a new form of dependency. The geopolitical and economic realities of the modern world have shifted the nature of this dependency. The Philippines' continued reliance on foreign powers, particularly the United States, and, more recently, China, has created a new kind of neo-imperialism. The country is no longer subjugated by colonial governments, but its sovereignty is still shaped by external forces through military alliances, trade agreements, and the influence of global corporations.

While the Philippines may no longer be a formal colony, its economic policies are deeply shaped by foreign investment, international trade, and the needs of global capital. The country’s economic development, for example, is tightly interwoven with global trade networks, and many industries are controlled or heavily influenced by multinational corporations. Foreign markets continue to dictate the flow of goods and capital into the Philippines, and the national economy remains vulnerable to global economic fluctuations.

Culturally, the Philippines is also heavily influenced by global forces. American culture, in particular, has left a profound imprint on Filipino society, from language and entertainment to consumer habits and social values. Western brands, international media, and foreign products are ubiquitous in Filipino life, shaping the way people view their own national identity. National pride is often measured by the consumption of foreign goods and participation in global cultural trends. In this sense, the Philippines’ cultural identity is increasingly shaped by global capitalism rather than by indigenous or nationalist ideals.

The Struggle for True Sovereignty: A Nation’s Delayed Revolution

The quest for true sovereignty in the Philippines, therefore, has evolved into a more complicated struggle than merely achieving political independence. While the Philippines officially gained its independence from the United States in 1946, it has never fully severed the bonds of dependency that continue to define its existence. The U.S. maintains a substantial military presence in the country, and bilateral military agreements—such as the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement (EDCA)—ensure that the Philippines remains aligned with American strategic interests. Similarly, the Philippines has entered into a complicated relationship with China, balancing the need for foreign investment with concerns over its territorial sovereignty in the South China Sea.

The continued reliance on foreign military aid, economic assistance, and trade relations, especially with the United States, complicates the notion of sovereignty. True independence, in this sense, would require the Philippines to wean itself off these external dependencies—developing a self-sustaining economy, forging independent political institutions, and cultivating a national identity that is less shaped by foreign influence. But this is a difficult task that many Filipinos, particularly in the political and economic elite, seem hesitant to pursue, as it entails navigating the uncertain waters of global power politics and economic competition.

For many in the Philippines, political sovereignty has become symbolic, not substantive. Independence Day celebrations, with their nationalistic fervor, are paradoxical: they commemorate a moment of political freedom while overlooking the country’s continued dependence on foreign powers. The reality of independence—self-sufficiency, self-governance, and a resilient national identity—remains elusive, buried under layers of external influence.

The Comfort of Peacetime: The Desire for Stability Over Struggle

The comfort of external relationships, particularly with powerful global players like the U.S. and China, is a significant factor in the Philippines' reluctance to fully embrace true independence. The stability provided by these relationships—militarily, economically, and politically—presents a seductive alternative to the uncertainty that would accompany a break from dependence. True independence would demand hard decisions: developing a robust and self-reliant economy, maintaining national security without foreign assistance, and fostering a culture of political self-governance that does not rely on foreign intervention.

The Filipino preference for stability over struggle is evident in many aspects of daily life. The political elite, for example, often remain aligned with foreign business interests and prioritize global trade relations over local empowerment. The economic benefits of aligning with powerful external powers—such as trade agreements, military protection, and foreign investment—are too great to risk for the sake of abstract ideals like sovereignty.

This preference for comfort over the struggles of self-reliance can be seen as a natural consequence of the country's long colonial history. Having endured centuries of colonial rule, many Filipinos may perceive the cost of true independence—instability, economic uncertainty, and the potential for social upheaval—as too high a price to pay. The fear of an uncertain future leads many to choose the relative comfort of foreign dependence over the radical transformations required for true self-determination.

The Philippines and Puerto Rico: A Shared Dilemma of Dependency

The Philippines' relationship with the United States and its continued dependency on foreign powers parallels the situation of Puerto Rico, a U.S. territory that, despite being politically integrated with the United States, faces similar dilemmas of independence. Like the Philippines, Puerto Rico has expressed a desire for sovereignty but remains economically dependent on the U.S., benefiting from federal programs and military protection, but without full political representation. The island's economy is tightly linked to that of the mainland, and its political future is often dictated by Washington's priorities.

Lucky that the Philippines is Independent, and yet still struggling for self-determination. It has passed known figures like Recto, Araneta, even Constantino and Agoncillo for asserting self-determination and yet in a generation that's yearning for comfort would honestly say that the Filipino rather meant to be as that of the Puerto Rican whose sentiment is rather limited to cultural affairs whilst remaining an appendage of the United States. But, is the Puerto Rican willing to be that way? Limiting their self-determination to that of cultural affairs, by just speaking Spanish and playing Reggaeton while basking in the sun and yet given pittance from its White, AngloSaxon Protestant master? Nope! They also desired for Independence and self-determination!

In both cases, the desire for full independence is tempered by the comfort and stability that external relationships provide. The challenges of breaking free from these dependencies—economic, military, and cultural—are daunting. In a globalized world, the very idea of independence is complicated by the interconnectedness of nations, making it difficult for smaller nations like the Philippines and Puerto Rico to achieve true autonomy without risking economic collapse or political instability.

The Irony of Rizal’s Vision: A Nation Still Waiting for Independence

Rizal’s vision for a reformed and morally enlightened Filipino people remains an ideal that has yet to be realized. His belief that the Philippines could only achieve independence once its people had undergone a moral and intellectual transformation now seems somewhat ironic in light of the country’s continued reliance on foreign powers. Rizal’s vision of a gradual transition to independence, rooted in intellectual refinement, is increasingly out of touch with the urgency of the Philippines' modern struggles. The country continues to face inequality, poverty, and a lack of self-sufficiency, undermining the very idea of "earning" independence.

Rizal’s dream of an enlightened, self-governing Philippines remains distant because the social, economic, and political infrastructure needed for true autonomy has never been fully built. The revolutionary ideals that he championed—the quest for a Filipino identity, the pursuit of social justice, and the desire for a self-reliant economy—are still very much works in progress, overshadowed by the practical challenges of global dependence.

Conclusion: The Revolution That Never Ends

The Filipino revolution, then, is not over. While the nation achieved political independence in 1898, 1946, or even 1992, it remains locked in a perpetual struggle for true sovereignty—a struggle that is not defined by armed resistance but by the quiet, ongoing challenge of breaking free from global dependencies. The Philippines continues to grapple with what true independence means in an interconnected world, where economic, political, and cultural realities are increasingly shaped by powerful external forces.

Until the Philippines confronts the complexities of self-reliance and self-determination, the revolution will remain an unfinished story. The nation will continue to celebrate its formal independence, but the real work of sovereignty—the hard, messy work of building a self-sustaining economy, robust political institutions, and an autonomous culture—remains deferred. Until the Philippines is willing to take on the difficult, often uncomfortable path of true self-determination, the nation will remain trapped in a cycle of symbolic independence and quiet dependency. 

When Loving One’s Homeland Means Jumping into the Abyss

When Loving One’s Homeland Means Jumping into the Abyss

 A Bonifacio Day Reflection 

This Bonifacio Day, Filipinos were urged to emulate the heroism of Andrés Bonifacio, with President Marcos Jr. and Vice President Sara Duterte delivering messages of unity and patriotism. Marcos spoke of addressing hunger and corruption, while Duterte called for a renewed love for country. Yet, these calls for action seemed detached from the stark realities of a nation grappling with systemic corruption, social inequality, a mendicant foreign policy, and a crisis of collective responsibility. 

Bonifacio’s life and struggles provide a more complex and sobering understanding of what it means to love one’s country. His decision to lead a rebellion against Spanish colonial rule was not born of convenience but desperation. The rebellion, fraught with internal strife and betrayal, nearly collapsed under the weight of its own divisions. His strong disapproval of Emilio Aguinaldo and his clique led to the ultimate tragedy of his life—betrayed and killed (or disappeared) in the mountains of Magpatong, Buntis, and Tala. 

But despite the tragic end of his life, Bonifacio’s humanity and his powerful call for solidarity endure. His writings, born of anguish and conviction, continue to resonate with the same urgency today. He wrote: 

“Reason teaches us that we must be united in will, united in thought, and that we might have strength to search out the reigning evil in our Nation. This is the time for the light of truth to surface; this is the time for us to show that we have our own sentiments, have honour, have shame, and have solidarity.”

 These are not the lofty ideals of a detached leader but the urgent plea of a man who had seen his country suffer under the weight of colonial oppression. Bonifacio’s love for his homeland was not a passive sentiment or mere rhetoric—it was a radical call to action. His proximity to the struggles of the common people, his rejection of false promises, and his commitment to collective strength defined his vision of patriotism. 

In another striking passage, Bonifacio reminds us of the cost of complacency: 

“Reason teaches us that we cannot expect anything but more suffering, more treachery, more insults, and more slavery. Reason teaches us not to waste time hoping for the promised prosperity that will never come and never materialise… Reason teaches us to be united in will, united in thought, and united in purpose and that we might have strength to combat the prevailing evil in our Nation.”

 These words are a reminder that patriotism is not an aesthetic to be trotted out during commemorations. It is not a shield to hide behind or a soothing balm for the nation’s wounds. True patriotism, as Bonifacio understood, is a dangerous and demanding path. It is a leap into the abyss, an act of defiance against the reigning evils of society, and a commitment to unity in the face of despair. 

As the Philippines continues to struggle with corruption, inequality, and crises of leadership, Bonifacio’s message remains painfully relevant. Loving one’s homeland requires more than rhetoric—it requires action. It calls for confronting systemic injustices, rejecting empty promises, and building a nation based on collective resolve and solidarity. 

This Bonifacio Day, the challenge is not simply to remember his heroism but to learn from his humanity. Bonifacio’s life was marked by struggle, betrayal, and sacrifice, but it was also guided by an unshakable belief in the power of truth, honor, and unity. To honor him is to take up his call—not as a distant ideal, but as a living mandate to fight for the nation he loved.

"Are they truly representing 'People Power' or just mocking it?"

"Are they truly representing 'People Power' or just mocking it?" 

(or: "when the forces of Darkness assembled at EDSA shrine to counter the forces of Evil") 

From an observer’s perspective, the increasing spectacle of political rhetoric surrounding figures like Sara Duterte, whose temper tantrums and death threats have become a regular feature, raises unsettling questions. Add to that the troubling image of her supporters gathering at the EDSA Shrine, and it prompts one to wonder: What exactly are they rallying for when they invoke “people power”? 

These voices, once synonymous with the 1986 EDSA Revolution—a symbol of mass unity against tyranny—now seem out of place. How can the same supporters who once decried rallyists as sellouts now flock to the very place that symbolizes people’s struggles for democracy? The inconsistency is glaring. The rallying cry of “people power” is now wielded by individuals whose version of that power appears to be more selective, more opportunistic. 

To understand this dissonance, one must consider the shifting nature of political movements in the Philippines. While EDSA is still remembered as the moment when the people united to overthrow a dictator, today’s political landscape is fraught with competing interests, fragmented loyalties, and a narrative that feels increasingly disconnected from the democratic ideals of the past. These contradictions echo larger global trends, with movements like the storming of the U.S. Capitol in 2021 offering a troubling parallel. The Trump supporters who stormed the Capitol believed in their cause with an almost fanatical fervor—much like some groups view their protests as a form of “patriotism.” 

Yet, despite the parallels, there are key differences. The Capitol siege was a blatant attempt to disrupt a democratic process—an act of insurrection driven by a delusional sense of entitlement. In contrast, Duterte’s supporters do not appear to be rallying against a specific election outcome. Instead, they seem to be feeding into an authoritarian nostalgia, hoping for a return to the kind of strongman leadership that defined Duterte’s rule. Their calls for “people power” are not about defending democracy but about supporting a political dynasty’s continued grip on power. 

Despite these differences, there is a shared sense of discontent between these two movements. Just as the Alsa Masa in the 1980s, an armed and disgruntled group, took matters into their own hands, Duterte’s supporters seem to draw from the same well of frustration with the status quo. But the nature of their movement has changed. They no longer seem driven by the urgency for genuine revolutionary change. Instead, their focus appears to be on consolidating power by any means necessary—whether through peaceful assembly or the threat of violence. 

What Duterte’s supporters assembling at EDSA may have truly wanted to resonate with is not the peaceful defiance of their predecessors but the militant energy of the Capitol siege or the Alsa Masa. Both movements—one from the U.S. and one from the Philippines—were marked by their radical right-wing demands for action, and in a twisted way, they feed into the Dutertist fantasy of a military junta taking control. Sara Duterte’s angry rhetoric and death threats mirror the same kind of extremism that many feared would rise from her political ideology. 

However, this is where the contradiction becomes even more apparent. In the same breath that Sara Duterte spews violent threats, her supporters retreat into calls for the “constitution,” the “rule of law,” and “respect for order.” This sudden shift toward legalism and constitutionalism is difficult to take seriously. How can one advocate for law and order while simultaneously pushing for the kind of authoritarianism that would dismantle both? The tension between the rhetoric of violence and the supposed defense of the rule of law highlights the hypocrisy inherent in Duterte’s brand of “people power.” 

Months ago, many people saw Duterte’s supporters defending his ally, Apollo Quiboloy, at Plaza Bonifacio, also demanding the ouster of Marcos, only to replace him with Sara Duterte as leader. Now that the Duterte family is under scrutiny for secret funds and bloodied works during the “war on drugs,” these same supporters are expected to rally to their defense—whether online or in EDSA shrine. When policemen are forced to remove them, one can’t help but wonder: Aren’t these individuals supposed to be brave enough to face truncheons and tear gas? Why, then, do they suddenly retreat in favor of “sobriety” and "rule od law" when confronted with real resistance? 

From an observer’s point of view, the desire for change among the masses is unmistakable. However, it is not change that should be driven by the crass rhetoric of tyrants who claim to represent the “common man.” The notion that all poor people are simply “lumpens,” as some have suggested, is not only inaccurate but deeply insulting. Not all Filipinos are ignorant or naive. The country’s marginalized population understands the complexities of power and politics far more acutely than some might believe. They may demand change, but not through hollow populism, empty promises, or authoritarian fantasies. The distinction between genuine calls for reform and opportunistic power grabs disguised as “people power” is vital. 

This brings back the question: Is what we are witnessing truly “people power” as it was originally conceived, or has it become a tool for political consolidation? The term “people power” was born out of a desire to see the oppressed rise against their oppressors. But today, it seems to be used to defend the status quo—perhaps not through violence but through strategic, orchestrated political displays. 

In the end, the true answer lies in the motivations behind these rallies. Are they driven by a genuine desire for justice, equality, and reform? Or are they simply a reflection of political pragmatism, using the language of “the people” to secure power? If it is the latter, then it may be time to reconsider what “people power” truly means today, and whether it still carries any real significance in a political climate that seems more concerned with holding onto power than with effecting meaningful change. 

The Paradox of Poverty and Progress: A Critique of Romanticized Hardship

The Paradox of Poverty and Progress: 

A Critique of Romanticized Hardship 

In societies struggling with poverty, there is a persistent tendency to romanticize the condition, often portraying it as a source of virtue or moral strength. Common refrains like, “It’s nice to be poor; you’re used to everything,” or “It’s nice to be poor; you’re contented with what you have,” seem innocuous at first glance. However, beneath these words lies a dangerous narrative that trivializes suffering and perpetuates systemic injustice. By framing poverty as a noble condition, such statements mock the dignity of those who endure it and justify a social order that thrives on inequality. 

For generations, hard work, resilience, and perseverance have been celebrated as virtues, and rightly so. Yet under an unjust system, these virtues are often exploited rather than rewarded. The promise that hard work leads to success becomes a convenient alibi for those in power—a way to obscure the structural barriers that prevent true equality of opportunity. Instead of creating pathways for collective progress, this myth allows success to remain an isolated case, reinforcing the cycle of exploitation and despair. 

Exploiting the Virtues of Labor 

Across countless rural and urban landscapes, farmers and workers embody the ideals of hard work, resilience, and perseverance. They labor long hours under grueling conditions, meeting or exceeding quotas to sustain industries and economies. Despite their efforts, many of them remain trapped in poverty. Farmers, for instance, who grow the food that sustains entire nations, often find themselves unable to afford nutritious meals for their own families. A simple meal of rice and salt—a symbol of deprivation rather than choice—becomes a routine act of survival. 

Similarly, factory workers, service employees, and day laborers endure exhausting shifts, only to receive wages insufficient to cover basic needs. For them, success remains an elusive goal, no matter how tirelessly they strive. The system rewards their perseverance not with opportunities, but with indignities. When asked to find contentment in such circumstances, as some might suggest with phrases like, “It’s nice to be poor,” the very essence of their humanity is undermined. 

Hard work and resilience, in these cases, do not pave the way for prosperity—they become tools for survival within an exploitative framework. The disconnect between effort and reward is glaring, exposing the emptiness of the idea that poverty is virtuous. 

Romanticizing Poverty: A Justification for Injustice 

This romanticization of poverty has deeper implications. By glorifying the supposed virtues of deprivation, society effectively excuses its own failure to address inequality. If being poor is framed as “contentment,” why should anyone seek change? If resilience and perseverance are considered noble, why create a system where these qualities are not necessary for survival but are instead optional traits in the pursuit of personal goals? 

Such narratives provide a convenient justification for maintaining the status quo. They shift the burden of responsibility from those in power to those who struggle under systemic oppression. Poverty is portrayed as a personal condition rather than a collective failure, allowing those who benefit from the system to avoid accountability. 

Yet, in reality, hard work and resilience under these conditions do not inspire gratitude or acceptance—they fuel dissent. Farmers and workers recognize the inequities in their lives. When wages are too low to sustain a family, when daily labor does not lead to security or dignity, people naturally resist. Their dissent grows not from discontent with their own abilities, but from frustration with a system that exploits their virtues while dismissing their humanity. 

Progress as a Rejection of Romanticized Poverty 

For nations striving for redemption, the romanticization of poverty presents a significant obstacle. True progress requires dismantling the structures that demand resilience and perseverance simply to survive. It involves creating a society where hard work is rewarded with fairness, where resilience is a choice rather than a necessity, and where perseverance leads to opportunities rather than perpetual struggle. 

Progress is not about rejecting the values of simplicity or humility; it is about ensuring that such values, if embraced, stem from abundance and choice rather than deprivation. A society that cherishes progress must commit to removing the systemic barriers that trap individuals in poverty and instead create conditions for equitable growth. 

Breaking the Cycle of Exploitation 

The cycle of exploitation begins to break only when society stops glorifying poverty and starts addressing its root causes. This requires policies that ensure fair wages, access to education, healthcare, and opportunities for upward mobility. Hard work, resilience, and perseverance must be met with tangible rewards, not with hollow praise or exploitative conditions. 

For farmers and workers who have long been the backbone of nations, progress means liberation from the indignities of poverty. It means ensuring that their labor is valued and that their efforts lead to lives of dignity and fulfillment. The romanticization of their struggles does nothing to alleviate their burdens—instead, it perpetuates them. 

Moving Beyond the Mockery 

Poverty is not “nice,” nor is it a source of contentment. It is a condition that robs individuals of their potential and nations of their progress. For a society to move forward, it must reject the glorification of deprivation and instead champion justice, equity, and opportunity. 

Hard work, resilience, and perseverance are noble traits, but their worth is diminished when they are exploited. A society that truly values these virtues must ensure that they lead to a better future—not survival, but prosperity. Only then can a nation move beyond the mockery of contentment and toward a future rooted in dignity and equality for all.