Qualifications Over Connections: Why Mike Aguinaldo Deserves the DOJ Helm

*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM

I do not know Mike Aguinaldo personally. I have never met him, never spoken to him, and never shared a room with him. I don't know him personally or professionally. Yet as someone who has spent years studying governance, public safety, and the painful gaps of our justice system, I have learned to judge leaders not by proximity or political color, but by the integrity of their work and the consistency of their careers. And based on everything I have read, reviewed, and researched, Mike Aguinaldo stands out as the most qualified person to lead the Department of Justice at this critical moment.

When I look at the arc of his professional life, it reflects a man forged not by noise but by responsibility. A law degree—even a prestigious one—is only the starting point. What matters is what happens when theory is tested by real-world pressures. Aguinaldo has navigated environments where errors echo loudly and accountability is unavoidable. His years at the Commission on Audit showed his discipline, steadiness, and firm grasp of administrative integrity. His leadership at the Philippine Competition Commission demonstrated his ability to manage regulatory environments where technical expertise and independence matter more than political choreography.

What strengthens his case even further is something many people overlook: those who come from within the government system—those who have actually operated, led, and sustained institutions—carry an irreplaceable familiarity with the internal workings of agencies like the DOJ. They understand the unwritten rules, the chains of responsibility, the flow of cases, the rhythms of bureaucracy, the administrative bottlenecks, and the delicate balance between supervision and independence. Aguinaldo, having spent years inside the machinery of government, holds that institutional fluency. He knows how offices talk to each other, how processes move, how investigations evolve, and how to handle the daily in-and-out dynamics that make the DOJ both powerful and fragile. This is an expertise that can never be taught quickly; it can only be earned through years of immersion.

What reassures me further is how seasoned observers describe him. Edwin Lacierda, a former Presidential Spokesperson, called him objective and steady—words you reserve only for people who have actually proven themselves in serious government work. In a time when justice is constantly pulled by political tension and public scrutiny, it matters to have a leader who is grounded, deliberate, and quietly firm. Aguinaldo strikes me as that kind of professional—no theatrics, no noise, just the work.

I want to emphasize again: I have no personal connection to the man. But I do have a deep concern for the state of our justice system. Every backlog, every unresolved complaint, and every denied or delayed prosecution weakens the faith of Filipinos in their own institutions. We cannot afford another politically comfortable appointment. We need someone who understands how government truly works behind the curtains—someone who sees not just the legal arguments, but the administrative DNA of the DOJ.

Based on my research, Aguinaldo meets that criteria. His experience is lived, not imagined. His leadership is steady, not performative. His reputation is clean, not compromised. Most importantly, his deep understanding of the government enables him to supervise, reform, and strengthen the DOJ with both insight and authority.

The Department of Justice does not simply need brilliance; it needs familiarity. It needs someone who understands its internal machinery deeply enough to repair what needs fixing and preserve what must be preserved. It needs someone who knows how cases move, how prosecutors struggle, how administrative processes fail, and how political pressures can be navigated without surrendering integrity. Aguinaldo brings that rare blend of expertise, temperament, and institutional memory.

I may not know him personally, but the record speaks for him. And if governance is to be our guide—not popularity, not politics, not pressure—then Mike Aguinaldo stands as the most credible and qualified choice to lead the DOJ at a time when justice and national trust are hanging in the balance.

____

 *About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.

VIEWS: 404K

 

Hindi Lahat ng Bitak ay Gumuguho ang Palasyo: Ang Sigalot ng Pamilyang Marcos sa Salamin ng Kuwento ng mga Fujimori ng Peru

   *Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM

Bawat umaga, nagigising ang Pilipinas na may pasan-pasang sugat na hindi naman niya hiniling. Isang bansang naghihilom tayo—bugbog ng kontrobersiya, laslas ng korapsyon, lason ng pulitikang puno ng drama, at tahimik na dumurugo dahil sa mga alitang pampamilya na sana’y sa loob lamang ng tahanan, ngunit ngayo’y isinisigaw sa buong bayan na parang entablado ang Republika.

 

At sa kabila ng lahat ng ito, tumatayo pa rin tayo.

Dahil iyan ang likas sa Pilipino—bumangon kahit pagod, ngumiti kahit masakit, umasa kahit sugatan.

 

Kaya nang humarap si Senador Imee Marcos sa dagat ng mga kapatid sa Iglesia Ni Cristo at buong bangis na sinabi sa sambayanan na ang kanyang sariling kapatid—ang Pangulo ng Republika—ay gumagamit umano ng cocaine, parang nayanig ang hangin. Hindi malumanay ang pahayag niya. Hindi rin binalutan ng paggalang. Para itong punyal na ibinaon sa gitna ng isang pagtitipon na naghanap ng katarungan, hindi ng eskandalo.

 

Ngunit ang mas malaking pagkagulat ay hindi nanggaling sa kanya.

Nanggaling ito sa katahimikan ng taong kanyang tinuligsa.

 

Hindi sumagot si Pangulong Bongbong Marcos.

Hindi nagalit.

Hindi nagpasaring.

Hindi nag-hostile takeover ng media.

Wala.

 

Tahimik siyang bumalik sa trabaho.

 

Isang kapatid ang pinili ang entablado;

ang isa, ang trabaho.

Isang kapatid ang sumigaw;

ang isa, ay tumahimik.

 

At dito nagkaanyo ang buong kuwento—mariin, dramatiko, at tahimik na mas malakas pa sa sigaw.

 

Nakita ito ng sambayanan.

Narinig nila ang gulo—pero mas malinaw nilang nakita ang totoo.

 

Sa kabila ng akusasyon, walang malawakang panawagan na magbitiw ang Pangulo.

Walang sigaw ang Simbahang Katolika para sa pagbabagsak.

Walang deklarasyon ang INC para sa pagpapabagsak ng administrasyon.

Tahimik ang mga negosyante.

At maging ang mga maralitang sinalanta ng baha—ang tunay na nasaktan sa flood control scandal—hindi humingi ng pagpapatalsik. Ang hiningi nila ay hustisya.

 

Dahil marunong na ang Pilipino.

Mas matalino na.

Mas sugatan na, pero mas nagising.

Alam na natin: Palitan mo ang pangulo kung bulok pa rin ang sistema, babalik at babalik ka sa simula.

 

At dito pumapasok ang matinding aral ng kasaysayan.

Dahil hindi ito ang unang beses na ang mga pinuno ay may madidilim na nakaraan.

 

Puno ng ganitong mga pinuno ang kasaysayan.

 

Si John F. Kennedy, mukha ng pag-asa ng Amerika, nakipaglaban sa matinding kirot sa likod, sa mga relasyong labas sa kasal, at sa pagdepende sa mga gamot. Pero minahal pa rin siya ng bayan.

 

Si Franklin Roosevelt, tagapag-ahon ng Amerika sa depresyon, itinago ang kanyang pagkaparalisa habang pasan ang bigat ng sirang relasyon at matinding emosyonal na pasanin.

 

Si Bill Clinton, na halos lamunin ng iskandalo kasama si Lewinsky, ay naghari sa pinakamalakas na ekonomiya ng Amerika.

 

At maging si Winston Churchill, ang pinakatanyag na simbolo ng lakas sa panahon ng digmaan, ay nilamon ng depresyon na tinawag niyang “black dog” na araw-araw siyang sinusundan.

 

At sa Pilipinas, hindi rin bago ang mga aninong ito.

 

Si Ferdinand Marcos Sr. ay halo ng isang henyo at isang diktador—isang utak na makabansa at isang kamay na bakal sa iisang katawan.

Si Joseph Estrada ay pumasok sa Malacañang sa piling ng pagsamba ng masa, ngunit lumabas habang pasan ang kaso ng plunder.

Si Gloria Macapagal Arroyo ay nalubog sa mga paratang ng pandaraya at lagayan.

Si Benigno Aquino III ay sinundan ng multo ng Mamasapano at SAF 44.

 

Ngunit ang pinakamabigat na halimbawa: Rodrigo Roa Duterte.

 

Isang hayag na nagpakilalang pumatay.

 

Hindi niya ikinahiya.

Paulit-ulit niyang inulit.

Para bang ito’y medalya, hindi kasalanan.

 

At minahal siya ng DDS.

Minahal pa lalo.

Naging idolo nila siya dahil sa dilim na iyon, hindi sa kabila nito.

Ginawa nila itong simbolo ng tapang.

 

Ganito tayo ka-komplikado bilang bansa.

Nasaksihan na natin ang mga pinunong may mas mabibigat at mas madidilim na pasanin kaysa sa anumang paratang na inihagis ni Imee laban sa kanyang kapatid.

 

Kaya hindi gumuguho ang Pilipinas.

Kasi alam ng Pilipino ang kaibahan ng iskandalong personal sa pagkasira ng sistema.

 

At dito na ako nagsasalita, hindi bilang analyst, kundi bilang Pilipinong nakasaksi mismo ng kasaysayan.

 

May mga magagalit sa akin dahil hindi ko sinasabing dapat patalsikin ang Pangulo.

May mga magsasabing takot ako, o bulag, o maka-admin.

Pero hindi ito takot—alaala ito.

 

Nandoon ako sa EDSA 1.

Saksi ako sa EDSA 2.

 

Narinig ko ang sigaw ng milyun-milyon.

Narinig ko ang dasal ng bayan.

Narinig ko ang pangakong “ito na ang simula.”

 

At sa dalawang pagkakataon, nakita ko ring bumagsak ang pangako.

 

Yes, natanggal ang mga pangulo—pero ang bulok na sistema, naiwan.

Pareho pa rin ang korapsyon.

Pareho pa rin ang mga mukha sa likod ng kurtina.

Pareho pa rin ang maanomalyang sirkulo ng kapangyarihan.

 

Dalawang rebolusyon.

Dalawang pagkabigo.

Dalawang pagputok ng pag-asa na nauwi sa abo.

 

Ayoko nang umasa ng ganoong uri ng pag-asa.

Hindi na ako magpapaloko sa panibagong sigaw ng kalsada na hindi naman nag-aalok ng bagong sistema.

Hindi na ako magpapahila sa pangarap na palitan lang ang lider pero iiwan ang maysakit na ugat ng Estado.

 

Iba na ang hinahanap ko ngayon.

Mas mahirap.

Mas mabagal.

Mas masakit.

Pero mas tunay.

 

Gusto ko ng system change, hindi personality change.

Gusto ko ng bagong konstitusyon, hindi band-aid reform.

Gusto ko ng mga institusyong mas malakas kaysa sa apelyido.

Gusto ko ng hustisyang hindi nakadepende kung sino ang nasa Malacañang.

Gusto ko ng bansang hindi paulit-ulit ang trahedya.

 

At kung si PBBM ay may kasalanan man—anumang kasalanan—darating at darating ang hustisya.

Kung hindi ngayon, sa susunod na administrasyon.

Kung hindi sa korte, sa kasaysayan.

 

Kilala ng kasaysayan ang mga lumalabag.

Hindi ito nakakalimot.

Hindi ito nagpapatawad nang walang kabayaran.

At hindi ito nawawalan ng oras.

 

Kaya hindi matutulad sa Peru ang Pilipinas.

Hindi guguho ang Palasyo dahil sa sigaw ng isang kapatid.

Dahil ang Pilipino ngayon ay hindi na nadadala sa tsismis.

Hindi na nadadala sa drama.

Hindi na nadadala sa mabilisang himagsikan.

 

Ang gusto natin ay katarungan, hindi kaguluhan.

Reporma, hindi pag-aalsa.

Konstitusyonal na pagbabago, hindi paulit-ulit na EDSA.

 

Peru ay bumagsak dahil inilibing ang katotohanan.

Pilipinas ay nananatiling nakatayo dahil hinihingi natin ang katotohanan—hindi sa ingay, kundi sa hustisya.

 

Hindi lahat ng bitak ay gumuguho ang palasyo.

Ang ilan, nagpapakita lang kung saan papasok ang liwanag.

Ang ilan, nagtuturo kung anong sugat ang dapat hilumin.

At ang ilan, nagpapaalala sa atin na ang tunay na pagbabago ay hindi nanggagaling sa pagbagsak ng isang tao—kundi sa muling pagbuo ng mismong kaluluwa ng bansa.

 

At ngayon, habang ang isang kapatid ay sumisigaw at ang isa ay nananahimik, pinipili ng Pilipino ang mas makapangyarihang landas:

 

Ang pag-asa na, sa wakas, hindi na mauulit ang kasaysayan.

 _________________

Translated to English

___________

Not All Cracks Break the Palace: The Marcos Rift Through a Fujimori Lens of Peru

 

By Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope

 

The Philippines wakes up each morning carrying wounds it never asked for. We are a nation still healing—bruised by corruption, stung by controversies, shaken by political theatrics, and quietly bleeding from family feuds that spill into the public square like confessions meant for the world to dissect. Yet for all these wounds, we rise. We always rise. Because rising is the only thing we Filipinos know how to do, even when our hearts are tired, even when our dreams are faded, even when our faith in leadership feels thin.

 

So when Senator Imee Marcos stepped before a sea of Iglesia Ni Cristo members and told the entire nation that her own brother—the President of the Republic—was a cocaine user, the country trembled for a heartbeat. Her words were not careful. They were not softened by love or loyalty. They were sharp, deliberate, almost surgical in their cruelty.

 

But the greater shock came not from her.

It came from the silence of the man she accused.

 

President Bongbong Marcos did not answer.

He did not deny in anger.

He did not retaliate.

He did not turn the podium into a battlefield.

 

He simply went back to work.

 

One sibling chose spectacle; the other chose silence.

One chose accusation; the other chose duty.

One shouted; one carried on.

 

And this contrast—quiet yet thunderous—became the soul of the moment.

 

Filipinos saw the drama. But they also saw through it. Because despite Imee’s explosive allegations, there was no national call for PBBM to resign, not from the Church, not from the INC, not from the elites, and not from the poor who suffered the floods.

Filipinos asked not for a fall, but for accountability.

Not for chaos, but for justice.

 

Because we, as a nation, have learned the hardest lesson history could teach: leaders have always carried shadows. And the world has always been led by men—and women—whose private lives were often darker than their public victories.

 

History is full of such leaders.

 

John F. Kennedy, the golden boy of American hope, lived with chronic back pain so agonizing he could barely stand. He drowned himself in painkillers and entangled himself in extramarital affairs. Yet America loved him—deeply, blindly, almost religiously.

 

Franklin Roosevelt—hero of the Great Depression and architect of the New Deal—hid his paralysis from the public eye. Behind closed doors, he bore the pain of a broken marriage and the psychological toll of illness. Still, he became one of America’s greatest presidents.

 

Bill Clinton survived the humiliation of the Lewinsky scandal, a moral earthquake that would have shattered lesser men. Yet he presided over one of the strongest economic booms in U.S. history.

 

Even Winston Churchill, the man who stood against Hitler with unmatched courage, battled a depression so deep he named it “the black dog.” He drank too much. He cried often. But he saved a continent.

 

And here at home, our leaders carried their own shadows.

 

Ferdinand Marcos Sr. embodied both statesmanlike brilliance and authoritarian brutality in one complicated heartbeat.

Joseph Estrada entered Malacañang with the love of the masses and left its gates under charges of plunder.

Gloria Macapagal Arroyo navigated the storms of electoral fraud, corruption scandals, and political isolation.

Benigno Aquino III spent his term haunted by Mamasapano, SAF 44, and the weight of expectations he could never fully meet.

 

But perhaps the most jarring example of all is Rodrigo Roa Duterte.

 

A self-confessed killer.

 

He admitted it loudly.

He admitted it repeatedly.

He admitted it with a sense of pride—as though killing were a credential, not a confession.

 

And yet the DDS adored him even more.

They worshipped his darkness.

They embraced his ruthlessness.

They made a hero out of a man who celebrated violence.

 

This is who we are as a nation:

A people who have seen presidents with sins far greater, darker, and more violent than anything Imee hurled at her brother.

A people who know the difference between personal scandal and systemic collapse.

A people who no longer rise for gossip—but rise only when the system betrays us.

 

And here is where I speak not just as an observer, but as a Filipino who lived through history’s flame.

 

There are those who may hate me for saying that I do not wish for the president’s swift downfall. They may call me blind, cowardly, or complicit. But I say this not from fear—I say it from memory.

 

Because I was there at EDSA 1.

And I was there at EDSA 2.

 

I felt the electricity of hope surging through millions.

I believed in the righteousness of our cause.

I believed we were tearing down darkness so the country could finally breathe.

 

But in the quiet years that followed, hope slowly collapsed.

The same corrupt networks resurfaced.

The same dynasties returned.

The same wounds reopened.

 

And then EDSA 2 came—another explosion of hope, another promise that we were finally free.

Yet after the confetti fell and the cheers faded, we realized the truth:

 

We removed presidents, not systems.

We toppled leaders, not corruption.

We changed the faces, not the foundations.

 

Hope betrayed twice is a wound that never fully heals.

 

And that is why I refuse to hope that kind of hope again.

 

I do not want another EDSA.

I do not want another revolution wrapped in euphoria but destined for disappointment.

I do not want another cycle of anger mistaken for reform.

 

I want something deeper.

Harder.

Slower.

But permanent.

 

I want systems change, not personality change.

I want a new constitution, not a recycled political circus.

I want institutions stronger than surnames.

I want justice that does not depend on who sits in Malacañang.

I want a country that stops repeating its tragedies every decade.

I want a nation my daughter can rely on—not a nation held hostage by political theatrics.

 

And if PBBM is guilty of anything—anything at all—then justice will still reach him.

If not today, then tomorrow.

If not under his own term, then under the next.

Because history is patient.

History takes its time.

But history never forgets.

 

This is why the Marcos sibling rift—no matter how dramatic, no matter how loud, no matter how explosive—Imee’s accusations may be, does not shake the foundations of the state.

Because the Filipino people now understand:

Removing a president is easy.

Rebuilding a country is hard.

 

Peru shook because its truth was suffocated.

The Philippines stands because its people demand truth—slowly, painfully, but through justice, not chaos.

 

Not all cracks break the palace.

Some cracks simply reveal where the light must enter.

Some cracks teach us that revolutions are loud but fleeting…

while reforms are quiet but lasting.

 

And today, as one sibling screams and the other chooses silence, the Filipino chooses something infinitely more powerful:

 

The hope that this time, history will not repeat itself.

 

____

 *About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.

VIEWS: 1.25M

 

When Politicians Hijack Religious Rallies Calling for Justice and Accountability

   *Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM

The rain had barely cleared when people began to gather—ordinary citizens, families, elders, and youth—arriving in quiet waves of disciplined devotion. They assembled not to shout for power, nor to install or remove leaders, but to express a moral demand: justice must be served, corruption must be exposed, and accountability must never be selective. Their placards spoke the truth plainly. Their silence carried its own dignity.

Yet somewhere in the hum of prayer and conviction, a different tone entered. A politician—uninvited and unaligned with the spirit of the gathering—inserted themselves into the moment. What began as a solemn call for good governance was abruptly reframed as a political spectacle. The purposeful calm fractured into tension. It was as if a foreign script had suddenly been dropped into a narrative that was never theirs to write.

The Anatomy of a Hijacking

Political scientists warn that religious or moral gatherings possess symbolic capital so powerful that opportunistic actors often attempt to exploit it (Chua, 2018). Unlike political rallies, these assemblies derive legitimacy from shared belief rather than partisanship. This is why they are so vulnerable. A single politician with a microphone—or even just a dramatic statement delivered at the right moment—can shift public interpretation entirely.

The hijacking happened subtly but decisively. The politician spoke not of systemic corruption, not of institutional reform, not even of the public’s moral demands. Instead, they delivered allegations, speculations, and insinuations that had nothing to do with the gathering’s principles. It was a performance crafted to generate shock, not truth; attention, not solutions.

Suddenly, the rally’s original message was no longer at the center. What spread across social media hours later was not the call for justice, but the political accusation.

Co-opting Moral Assemblies for Political Gain

Scholars describe this tactic as symbolic appropriation, a maneuver where political actors attach themselves to movements they did not initiate in order to appear morally aligned (Arias, 2020). In democratic societies, especially those with a strong digital ecosystem, these hijackings proliferate. Because moral gatherings appear unified, politicians gain a shortcut to legitimacy simply by positioning themselves beside the crowd.

But here lies the danger: the people in attendance did not authorize the political message. They did not endorse the politician’s narrative. They simply became the backdrop upon which a different agenda was projected.

This is the tragedy of hijacked movements: the people lose ownership over their own voice.

 

The Digital Amplification of Distortion

If the politician’s intrusion was the match, social media became the wildfire. Within minutes, online accounts—some organic, many coordinated—began reshaping the rally’s meaning. Communication studies show that digital networks often reward the loudest, not the most truthful (Sison & Flores, 2021). This creates a dangerous environment where misinformation can override genuine intent.

 

The rally was reframed as a political revolt, a signal of regime change, a gathering with motives far removed from its purpose. The attendees, who had come with sincere moral clarity, were painted as participants in a conspiratorial political movement. The distortion was not accidental—it was engineered.

The Ethical Cost of Opportunistic Politics

 

Sociologists call this narrative corruption, where political intrusion contaminates the moral foundation of collective action (Garcia & Liao, 2022). When a politician hijacks a moral rally:

 

• the cause becomes diluted,
• the organizers lose control,
• the public becomes confused, and
• the struggle for accountability is overshadowed by partisan drama.

 

This harms democracy, not strengthens it.

It undermines justice, not upholds it.

 

A Mirror of Political Desperation

Political history shows a consistent pattern: when politicians feel marginalized or threatened, they often latch onto moral platforms to regain relevance (Verde, 2017). By associating themselves with religious or moral gatherings, they attempt to borrow legitimacy they no longer possess. But this comes at the expense of communities who did not give permission to be used.

 

In this incident, the hijacking revealed the precariousness of political ambition. It showed how easily a vulnerable moral space can be exploited by those seeking power rather than truth.

 

 

Reclaiming the Space for Justice

 

 

The people who gathered that day had a singular purpose: to remind leaders that institutional accountability is not optional. Their cause was rational, ethical, and grounded in civic responsibility. Yet it was distorted because a politician seized the moment for their personal advantage.

 

The lesson is clear:

Moral assemblies, no matter how disciplined or sincere, must guard themselves from political intrusion. Boundaries must be strengthened, leadership must be vigilant, and the public must remain discerning.

 

Because when politicians hijack religious rallies calling for justice and accountability, they do more than disrupt an event.

They undermine the moral foundation of collective action.

They exploit communities who come in good faith.

And they turn sacred calls for justice into political theater.

 

References 

Arias, M. (2020). Symbolic politics and public mobilization in Southeast Asia. Journal of Political Behavior, 12(3), 221–240.

Chua, R. (2018). Faith, power, and public demonstrations: The political impact of religious gatherings. Asian Governance Review, 6(2), 44–60.

De Vega, P. (2019). Narrative power in Philippine political discourse. Philippine Journal of Political Science, 24(1), 1–18.

Garcia, L., & Liao, M. (2022). Narrative corruption: How political interference distorts moral mobilizations. Social Inquiry Quarterly, 18(4), 309–330.

Sison, D., & Flores, J. (2021). Media manipulation and the digital reshaping of public protests. Communication Studies Review, 14(1), 77–99.

Verde, A. (2017). Political legitimacy and the appropriation of religious symbolism. International Review of Social and Political Ethics, 9(1), 89–110.

 ____

 *About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.

VIEWS: 1.9M