*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM
The study of political behavior often feels distant until one recalls how its earliest patterns surface long before academic language develops to describe them. I first encountered the anatomy of false accusation, reputational distortion, and guilt displacement not in a university lecture, but as a high school student in an exclusive school for boys pressured into accepting blame for something I hardly touched. A Playboy magazine had circulated among a group of curious lustful creatures, passed eagerly from hand to hand in that reckless curiosity characteristic of teenagers. My involvement amounted to a brief, hesitant glance from a distance. Yet when the risk of punishment emerged, one of the boys—ironically the most engaged participant—rushed to “report” the incident to save himself. He framed himself as morally upright and pointed to me as a primary culprit simply because I was quiet, unassertive, and willing to sacrifice.
What happened that day became a personal primer in the political psychology of preemptive self-exoneration, a behavior in which individuals attempt to absolve themselves by controlling the narrative before facts can emerge. That high school moment, painful as it was, has returned to me with unsettling clarity as I watch the flood control scandal, where Zaldy Co has positioned himself as one of its loudest accusers. What I once witnessed in a school disciplinary case now unfolds on a national stage supported by media, institutions, and shifting political alliances.
Political psychology helps explain why Co has embraced the role of outraged truth-teller despite being closely connected to the systems under scrutiny. Goffman’s (1959) theory of impression management is instructive: when reputational stakes are high, individuals construct strategic public identities to mitigate potential damage. Co’s visible and repeated denunciations of corruption constitute a protective performance, enabling him to frame himself as a reformist figure rather than someone who benefited from the machinery that enabled the alleged anomalies.
This behavior aligns with McGraw’s (1990) findings on blame avoidance, which demonstrate that political actors actively preempt negative outcomes by shifting responsibility before blame is assigned. In high-stakes scandals, the pressure to engage in blame avoidance rises, prompting actors to deflect responsibility toward institutions, processes, or other individuals. Hood (2011) similarly argues that public officials under threat employ strategies of denial and narrative deflection to preserve legitimacy even when facing mounting evidence.
The act of enabling or encouraging the implication of the President reflects a more sophisticated political maneuver documented in crisis governance literature. Boin, ’t Hart, Stern, and Sundelius (2017) explain how actors engage in crisis exploitation, using chaotic events to reshape political power structures and public perception. When a political figure like Co senses institutional vulnerability, widening the crisis becomes a calculated means of self-preservation. By elevating the scandal to the level of the presidency, he dissolves any clear line of culpability and embeds himself within a broader narrative of systemic failure.
This approach resonates with Farazmand’s (2003) argument that manufactured instability allows political entrepreneurs to benefit from institutional confusion. Chaos creates opportunities for actors to rebrand themselves as truth-tellers, reformers, or indispensable voices. By expanding the scandal upward, Co transforms himself from a possible subject of investigation into an essential figure in a national drama.
Political communication theory adds further clarity. McCombs and Shaw’s (1972) agenda-setting research explains that repeated public statements shape which issues the public sees as important, while framing theory shapes how the audience interprets events. Co’s persistent framing of the scandal shifts public focus away from congressional oversight and toward executive responsibility. Once the President becomes symbolically implicated, the scandal is no longer an administrative issue—it becomes a question of national leadership, which conveniently obscures Co’s own proximity to the alleged irregularities.
Girard’s (1986) concept of scapegoat dynamics also helps interpret this behavior. Expanding blame to the highest office symbolically shifts guilt from individuals to institutions. The larger the target, the more diffused the moral contamination becomes, allowing political figures like Co to present themselves as corrective forces rather than contributors to wrongdoing.
Scholars of political transitions note that when actors anticipate potential changes in leadership, they engage in “pre-transition positioning,” crafting narratives to secure their future roles under a new administration (O’Donnell & Schmitter, 1986). In the volatile Philippine political environment, Co’s behavior reflects this anticipation. If public discontent weakens the presidency, he can later claim that he “warned the nation early,” allowing him to recast himself not as a villain but as a patriot. Should leadership change, he could be rewarded for his perceived courage; should the administration survive, he can frame his actions as principled oversight.
This aligns directly with Meier’s (2019) concept of strategic self-exoneration, where actors reveal selective truths or amplify controversies not for moral reasons but to mitigate personal jeopardy and restructure political narratives. By allowing the scandal to engulf even the presidency, Co ensures that any accountability process becomes diffuse, contested, and subject to political theatrics rather than rigorous investigation.
Beyond theory, however, lies the human cost. Many honest public servants—engineers, technical personnel, regional directors—now find themselves caught in a narrative they did not create. Their reputations and families suffer because someone more powerful seeks protection through spectacle. Their silence does not reflect guilt but paralysis, the same paralysis I felt years ago as a high school student being unjustly accused.
The flood control scandal is not only a governance issue—it is a human story about how far individuals will go to rewrite their role from villain to hero, even if it means destabilizing institutions and hurting people who never sought to be part of the spectacle.
And so, I return to that moment in high school—not as nostalgia but as a warning. A louder lie once drowned out my truth, and today, the nation stands on that same fragile edge. In a time when guilt often speaks first and truth is forced to whisper, the real test before us is simple yet profound: will we allow the loudest voices to define our future, or will we finally choose to defend the truth that has waited far too long to be heard?
References
- Boin, A., ’t Hart, P., Stern, E., & Sundelius, B. (2017). The politics of crisis management: Public leadership under pressure. Cambridge University Press.
- Farazmand, A. (2003). Chaos and transformation theories: A theoretical analysis with implications for organization theory and public management. Public Organization Review, 3(4), 339–372.
- Girard, R. (1986). The scapegoat. Johns Hopkins University Press.
- Goffman, E. (1959). The presentation of self in everyday life. Doubleday.
- Hood, C. (2011). The blame game: Spin, bureaucracy, and self-preservation in government. Princeton University Press.
- McCombs, M., & Shaw, D. (1972). The agenda-setting function of mass media. Public Opinion Quarterly, 36(2), 176–187.
- McGraw, K. M. (1990). Avoiding blame: An experimental investigation of political excuses and justifications. American Political Science Review, 84(4), 1133–1157.
- Meier, K. (2019). Strategic disclosure and the politics of self-preservation. Journal of Public Administration Research and Theory, 29(3), 403–417.
- O’Donnell, G., & Schmitter, P. (1986). Transitions from authoritarian rule: Tentative conclusions about uncertain democracies. Johns Hopkins University Press.
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