JUSTICE FOR A NATION BLED BY THEFT: A CALL BY THE IGLESIA NI CRISTO

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

I am not a member of the Iglesia Ni Cristo, but I believe—and quietly admire—their deep economic and political concern for the Philippines. I do not share their doctrine, their rituals, or their sacred traditions. Yet when I saw their people gather—thousands upon thousands—under a sky that has witnessed too many of our wounds, something inside me softened, trembled, and awakened a longing I have carried for years:

the longing for a country that no longer breaks its own people.

 

You do not need to belong to them to feel the pain.

You do not need to stand in their chapel to understand the weight they carry.

Sometimes, being Filipino is enough—

because loving this country means accepting that it can break your heart again and again.

 

It began with the simplest scenes:

a mother shielding her child from the heat,

a father tightening the strap of his worn backpack,

an elderly man clutching a cardboard sign with trembling hands—

hands that were once strong, now frail,

yet still holding the truth more firmly than any politician ever dared.

 

And in between them were placards—

modest, aching, almost like prayers etched on fragile cardboard:

 

“Transparency, not Conspiracy.”

“Justice, not Politics.”

“Give back the money and jail the corrupt.”

 

They were not shouts.

They were confessions—

confessions from a nation that has been crying in silence for too long.

 

I am not INC.

But in that moment, as I watched them,

I felt like one of them—

not by membership,

but by heartbreak.

Not by doctrine,

but by the shared ache of wanting a country that does not steal from its own people.

 

For this was not a protest.

It was a lamentation.

A trembling, quiet lamentation—

a hymn of weary souls who, despite everything,

still believe this nation can be beautiful.

 

As the hours passed, I looked into their faces—

not angry faces, but wounded ones.

In their eyes, I saw stories:

the father juggling three jobs because public funds meant for his community were stolen,

the mother stretching coins because corruption stole the bridge that would have brought her closer to livelihood,

the young man who studies hard every day knowing that in a country ruled by thieves,

hard work alone is never enough.

 

And there, standing among them in my own reflections,

I whispered a question that ached through my entire being:

 

When did stealing from the Filipino stop being a crime?

When did corruption cease to be shameful?

When did betrayal become tradition?

 

I looked at them again.

They did not come with fists raised—

they came with wounds exposed.

They did not come with rage—

they came with faith.

A faith not in politics,

not in personalities,

but in the fragile hope that if they stand here long enough,

someone in power might remember

that the people they govern are not numbers, not votes—

but human hearts.

 

The placards no longer bore the phrase “Change the system,”

yet the longing for a better system was written everywhere—

in the old man whose knees shook but still stood,

in the mothers murmuring to their children,

“Anak, this is for your future,”

in the thousand quiet sacrifices of people who endure the sun

because the deeper burn is corruption itself.

 

At moments like this,

I realized something tender and almost tearful:

 

You do not have to be INC to cry with them.

You do not have to be INC to hope with them.

You do not have to be INC to feel the trembling weight of a million broken promises carried in their silence.

 

You only have to be Filipino—

a Filipino who still believes,

a Filipino who still hopes,

a Filipino who still dreams of justice that is not for sale.

 

As I watched them from the quiet distance of my own thoughts,

I felt the collective ache of a nation plundered too many times.

Money stolen.

Trust stolen.

Future stolen.

And the cruelest theft of all—

the theft of dignity.

 

“Give back the money and jail the corrupt”—

the words echoed like soft thunder,

a plea lifted gently to the heavens,

a quiet attempt to remind those in power

that the people they lead are not stones—

they are hearts capable of breaking.

 

These were not the words of rebels.

These were the whispers of people who have been hurt so deeply

that all they ask now is the simple right

to live without fear

in a country that does not devour its own children.

 

In the end, I remain not an INC member.

But in this moment, in this struggle, in this soft and trembling cry for a love of country that refuses to die—

I stand with them.

 _________________________________________

TRANSLATED TO FILIPINO

_________________________________________

HUSTISYA PARA SA BAYANG NILAMON NG PAGNANAKAW: ANG PANAWAGAN NG IGLESIA NI CRISTO

 

By Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope

 

Hindi ako miyembro ng Iglesia Ni Cristo, ngunit naniniwala ako—at tahimik kong hinahangaan—ang kanilang malalim na malasakit sa ekonomiya at pulitika ng Pilipinas. Hindi ko kapareho ang kanilang doktrina, hindi ko kabisado ang kanilang mga himno, ngunit noong nakita ko ang kanilang pagtitipon—libo-libong tao, sa ilalim ng kalangitang matagal nang saksi sa ating mga sugat—may gumalaw, may nanginig, may nagising na bahagi ng puso kong nangungulila rin para sa isang bansang paulit-ulit tayong sinasaktan.

 

Hindi mo kailangang maging bahagi nila upang maramdaman ang pait.

Hindi mo kailangang tumayo sa kanilang kapilya upang maunawaan ang bigat ng kanilang dalahin.

Minsan, sapat na ang pagiging Pilipino—

sapagkat ang umibig sa bayang ito ay ang maging handang masaktan ng paulit-ulit.

 

Nagsimula ito sa mga pinakasimpleng tanawin:

isang inang iniingatan ang anak sa init,

isang amang inaayos ang lumuwang na strap ng lumang backpack,

isang matandang lalaking mahigpit na hawak ang plakard,

mga daliring dati’y malakas, ngayo’y nanginginig,

ngunit mas matibay pang humahawak sa katotohanan kaysa sa sinumang pulitiko.

 

At sa pagitan nila—

mga kartong tila dasal na isinulat ng kamay na sanay na sa hirap:

 

“Transparency, not Conspiracy.”

“Justice, not Politics.”

“Give back the money and jail the corrupt.”

 

Hindi iyon sigaw.

Mga pag-amin iyon.

Pag-amin ng isang bansang matagal nang umiiyak sa katahimikan.

 

Hindi ako INC, ngunit habang nakatingin ako sa kanila,

pakiramdam ko isa rin ako—

hindi sa pagiging miyembro,

kundi sa sugat.

Hindi sa ritwal,

kundi sa kirot ng paghahangad ng bansang hindi tayo pinagnanakawan.

 

Sapagkat hindi lamang ito protesta.

Ito ay panaghoy.

Isang mahinang panaghoy, nanginginig, ngunit totoo—

awit ng libo-libong pagod na kaluluwa na, sa kabila ng lahat,

ay naniniwalang maaari pa ring gumanda ang Pilipinas.

 

Habang tumatagal, mas nakikita ko ang mga mukha—hindi galit, kundi sugatan.

Nasa mga mata nila:

ang amang tatlong trabaho ang kinakaya dahil ninakaw ang pondong dapat ay para sa kanyang komunidad,

ang inang pinaghahaba ang barya dahil ninakaw ang tulay na magdadala sana ng kabuhayan,

ang kabataang alam na kahit gaano siya kasipag mag-aral,

hindi siya ligtas sa korapsyong minana sa nakaraan.

 

At doon, habang nakikita ko sila,

tinamaan ako ng mga tanong na masakit, kalmado, at tapat:

 

Kailan pa nawala ang takot na magnakaw mula sa sariling bayan?

Kailan naging kultura ang korapsyon, hindi krimen?

Kailan naging tradisyon ang pagtataksil?

 

Tinitigan ko silang muli.

Hindi sila dumating na may galit—kundi may sugat.

Hindi sila dumating na may kamao—kundi may pananalig.

Isang pananalig na hindi tungkol sa relihiyon,

kundi sa marupok na pag-asang baka, kung tatayo sila nang matagal,

may isang nasa kapangyarihan ang maalalang tao ang kanyang pinaglilingkuran—hindi numero, hindi boto.

 

Hindi na nakasulat sa mga plakard ang “Baguhin ang sistema,”

ngunit dama mo ito sa bawat anino ng tao,

sa bawat titig na may pagod ngunit may dangal,

sa bawat inang bumulong sa anak,

“Anak, para sa kinabukasan mo ito,”

sa bawat Pilipinong nagtiis ng init,

sapagkat mas malalim ang sakit ng pagnanakaw ng pera

kaysa sa sikat ng araw.

 

Sa ganitong mga sandali,

may napagtanto akong banayad,

isang bagay na halos nagpaluha sa akin:

 

Hindi mo kailangang maging INC para umiyak kasama nila.

Hindi mo kailangang maging INC para umasa kasama nila.

Hindi mo kailangang maging INC para maramdaman ang pagyanig ng milyong nabigong pangako na dala ng kanilang katahimikan.

 

Kailangan mo lang maging Pilipino.

Pilipinong marunong umasa,

Pilipinong marunong sumampalataya,

Pilipinong marunong mangarap ng hustisyang hindi nabibili.

 

Habang pinagmamasdan ko sila mula sa malayo,

ramdam ko ang kirot ng isang bansang paulit-ulit na nilimas.

Ninakaw ang pera.

Ninakaw ang tiwala.

Ninakaw ang kinabukasan.

Ngunit ang pinakamasakit—

ninakaw ang dangal ng bayan.

 

“Give back the money and jail the corrupt”—

umalingawngaw na tila munting kulog,

isang pakiusap na itinataas sa langit,

isang huling pagsubok upang ipaalala sa gobyerno

na ang mga pinamumunuan nila ay puso, hindi bato.

 

Hindi iyon salita ng mga rebelde.

Ito ang bulong ng mga taong masyadong nasaktan

na ang hinihiling na lamang ay huminga nang walang takot,

at mamuhay sa bansang hindi kinakain ang sarili niyang mga anak.

 

Sa huli, hindi ako INC.

Ngunit sa sandaling ito, sa laban na ito, sa panaghoy na ito para sa pag-ibig sa bayan na ayaw mamatay—

kasama nila ako.

 

Kasama sa kanilang luha.

Kasama sa kanilang lakas.

Kasama sa kanilang tinig na humihingi ng hustisya para sa bayang ninakawan.

 

Dahil ang hustisya ay hindi dapat pribilehiyo.

Ito ay karapatan ng bawat Pilipinong

ninakawan—

ng pera,

ng dangal,

at ng simpleng pangarap ng bansang pumipili ng katotohanan kaysa kasakiman.

 

Meta-Ignorance: The Blind Spot That Breaks Leaders, Institutions, and Nations

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

It started in a simple chatroom. I posted an article—carefully written, grounded in fact, and meant to encourage thoughtful discourse. Instead of engaging the ideas, one member immediately attacked me. Not the content, not the argument, but my character. He dismissed the entire piece as if his personal opinion were divine revelation, then offered a commentary so far outside the context that it felt like he read an entirely different article.

 

He spoke with a confidence that did not match his comprehension. In his mind, his idea was superior to anyone else’s, even without evidence or understanding. And as I watched him defend his assumptions, I recognized once again the silent enemy I’ve studied for years: meta-ignorance—the dangerous condition of not knowing that you do not know.

 

Throughout my life—as a municipal councilor, an academic, a consultant in law enforcement, and a student of governance—I have met many like him. People who mistake loudness for intelligence. People who cling to their opinions not because they are right, but because admitting ignorance feels like defeat. People who use arrogance to mask the emptiness of their understanding.

 

Meta-ignorance is not rare. In fact, it thrives in positions of power, in echo chambers, and yes, in the comment sections of the internet.

 

But nowhere is meta-ignorance more visible than in the national conversation about the flood control controversy.

 

Many people today analyze the scandal as if it materialized only within the timeline of President Marcos Jr. They behave as if the entire machinery of corruption suddenly came alive the moment he took office. They angrily point to the projects under his administration, yet turn suspiciously silent when asked about similar or worse anomalies during previous administrations.

 

This is not honesty.

This is source bias—the psychological tendency to judge information depending on who we like, who we hate, or who we want to blame.

 

It is the kind of bias where:

• if “their camp” did it, it is ignored, explained away, or forgotten
• if PBBM’s camp did it, it is magnified, dramatized, and exploited for political gain

 

Same pattern. Same anomaly. Different outrage.

 

This selective moral compass is a form of meta-ignorance. Why? Because people genuinely believe they are being objective, when in fact, they are blind to their own bias. They think they are seeking accountability, but they are actually seeking a target. They claim they want justice, but what they want is a villain whose face fits their political preference.

 

Meta-ignorance convinces them that corruption only exists when committed by the people they dislike.

And so, the public debate becomes shallow and hypocritical.

 

The result?

We fail to see the bigger pattern—the systemic corruption that spans administrations, parties, regions, and decades. We focus on personalities, not machinery. We blame timelines, not syndicates. We attack leaders we dislike while protecting leaders we idolize. This is why our nation keeps circling the same drain: because we refuse to confront the truth unless it benefits our narrative.

 

I have seen this pattern not only in politics, but in everyday behavior. Some voters believe they “know better” simply because a political influencer told them. Some cling to their chosen leader as if he were incapable of wrongdoing. Others attack leaders they dislike as if corruption were a brand exclusive only to one administration.

 

But the worst part? Most of them don’t even realize they are biased.

They genuinely think they are being analytical.

 

That is the essence of meta-ignorance.

 

And I include myself in this reflection. I, too, have had moments where I assumed I knew enough, only to be humbled by reality. My antidote to those moments has always been humility—the willingness to say, “Hindi ko alam. Paki-explain.”

 

Because the leader who admits ignorance has already won half the battle.

But the leader who insists on false mastery is a danger to everyone.

 

The same applies to citizens. Progress will never happen if people only question the administrations they dislike and ignore the sins of those they support. Progress demands consistency. Accountability is not selective. Truth is not partisan.

 

Meta-ignorance is the blind spot that breaks nations.

But humility—the courage to admit what we do not know—is what rebuilds them.

 

If there is one lesson I’ve learned from that chatroom incident, it is this:

The moment we believe we are the sole source of wisdom, we stop growing.

And when a society stops growing, corruption becomes cyclical, justice becomes selective, and truth becomes negotiable.

 

Only when we learn to confront our own biases—especially our source bias—can we truly move forward as a nation.

 

Because the Philippines will not collapse due to ignorance alone.

It collapses when people refuse to see that they might be wrong, that their lens might be flawed, that their certainty might be misplaced.

 

Meta-ignorance is our invisible enemy.

Humility is our most powerful weapon.

 

TRANSLATED TO FILIPINO

Meta-Ignorance: Ang Bulag na Bahagi na Sumisira sa mga Pinuno, Institusyon, at Bansa

 

By Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope

 

Nagsimula ito sa isang simpleng chatroom. Nag-post ako ng isang artikulo—maingat na isinulat, batay sa datos, at ginawa para magbukas ng matinong talakayan. Ngunit imbes na sagutin ang mga ideya, isang miyembro agad na umatake hindi sa argumento, kundi sa akin mismo.

 

Hindi niya kinuwestiyon ang nilalaman; kinuwestiyon niya ang aking pagkatao. Tinawag niyang mababaw ang artikulo, at pagkatapos ay nagbigay siya ng komentaryong wala naman talagang kaugnayan sa paksa—parang ibang artikulo ang nabasa niya.

 

Nagsalita siya na para bang siya lamang ang pinanggagalingan ng katotohanan. Wala siyang datos, wala siyang konteksto, pero puno siya ng kumpiyansa. Habang pinapanood ko siyang ipaglaban ang kanyang sariling paniniwala na walang sapat na pag-unawa, muling tumama sa akin ang tahimik na kaaway na matagal ko nang pinag-aaralan: meta-ignorance—ang mapanganib na kalagayan ng hindi mo alam na hindi mo alam.

 

Sa buong buhay ko—bilang dating konsehal, akademiko, consultant sa law enforcement, at estudyante ng pamahalaan—marami na akong nakasalamuha na tulad niya. Mga taong malakas ang boses pero mababaw ang pang-unawa. Mga taong pinanghahawakan ang kanilang opinyon hindi dahil tama sila, kundi dahil ayaw nilang umamin na maaaring kulang ang kanilang kaalaman. Mga taong gumagamit ng kapal ng mukha para tabunan ang kababawan ng kanilang pag-unawa.

 

Hindi bihira ang meta-ignorance. Sa katunayan, namumuo ito sa posisyon ng kapangyarihan, sa mga echo chamber, at oo, pati sa mga comment section ng social media.

 

At wala itong mas malinaw na halimbawa kundi ang pambansang diskusyon tungkol sa isyu ng flood control.

 

Maraming tao ngayon ang tumitingin sa eskandalo na para bang kay President Marcos Jr. lamang ito nagsimula. Para bang bigla na lang nabuhay ang buong makinarya ng katiwalian noong siya na ang nakaupo. Galit na galit sila sa mga proyekto sa panahon niya, pero biglang nagiging tahimik kapag tinatanong tungkol sa mga anomalya sa mga nakaraang administrasyon.

 

Hindi ito objektibong pagtingin.

Ito ay source bias—ang sikolohikal na tendensiyang husgahan ang impormasyon depende kung sino ang gusto o ayaw natin.

 

Ito yung klaseng bias na:

• kapag galing sa “kampo nila,” hindi pinapansin o binibigyan ng dahilan
• kapag galing sa kampo ni PBBM, pinalalaki, dinadramatize, ginagamit para sa pulitika

 

Parehong pattern. Parehong anomalya. Pero magkakaibang galit.

 

Ito ay isang anyo ng meta-ignorance.

Bakit?

Dahil naniniwala silang objective sila, kahit bulag sila sa sarili nilang pagkiling.

 

Iniisip nila na naghahanap sila ng accountability, pero sa totoo, naghahanap lang sila ng masisisi.

Ginagamit nila ang salitang “katarungan,” pero ang tunay na hinahanap nila ay kontrabida na akma sa kanilang naratibo.

 

Ang meta-ignorance ang nag-uutos sa kanila na maniwala na ang korapsyon ay umiiral lamang kapag ginawa ng taong hindi nila gusto.

 

At dahil dito, nagiging mababaw at hipokrito ang pampublikong diskurso.

 

Ang masaklap, hindi natin nakikita ang mas malaking larawan—ang sistemikong korapsyon na tumatawid sa administrasyon, partido, rehiyon, at dekada. Personalidad ang tinitira, hindi ang makina. Timeline ang sinisisi, hindi ang sindikato. Binabanatan ang lider na ayaw nila, pero pinagtatanggol ang lider na mahal nila.

 

Ito ang dahilan kung bakit umiikot ang Pilipinas sa iisang bilog—dahil tumatanggi tayong harapin ang katotohanan kung hindi ito akma sa gusto nating kuwento.

 

At hindi lang sa pulitika ito.

Nakikita ko ito sa karaniwang tao. May mga botanteng “alam na daw nila ang lahat” dahil may influencer silang sinusundan. May mga naniniwala na hindi nagkakamali ang kanilang paboritong politiko. May iba namang naniniwala na ang lahat ng problema ay bunga lamang ng administrasyong ayaw nila.

 

Pero ang pinakamasakit?

Hindi nila alam na bulag sila.

Talagang iniisip nila na sila ay nag-iisip nang malalim.

 

Iyon ang pinakapuso ng meta-ignorance.

 

Kasama ako sa pagninilay na ito. May mga panahon din sa buhay ko na akala ko sapat na ang nalalaman ko, pero binasag iyon ng realidad. At doon ko natutunan ang pinakamahalagang sandata laban sa meta-ignorance: kababaang-loob. Ang kakayahang magsabi ng, “Hindi ko alam. Paki-explain.”

 

Dahil ang pinakadelikadong lider ay hindi iyong kulang sa kaalaman, kundi iyong naniniwalang bihasa siya kahit hindi naman.

 

Kung tunay nating nais ang progreso, kailangan nating linangin ang kababaang-loob—hindi bilang kahinaan, kundi bilang lakas. Kailangan nating buuin ang mga institusyong kumikilala sa pagkukulang, hindi yung nagtatago sa kapal ng mukha. Kailangan nating i-encourage ang mga mamamayang tanungin ang sarili nilang bias, hindi yung tanggap lang nang tanggap ng naratibo.

 

Ang kababaang-loob ay hindi simpleng birtud.

Ito ay estratehiya ng kaligtasan ng bansa.

 

Hindi babagsak ang Pilipinas dahil lang sa kakulangan ng kaalaman.

Bumabagsak tayo dahil masyadong marami ang naniniwalang alam na nila ang lahat.

 

Meta-ignorance ang tahimik na kaaway sa loob natin.

Ang kababaang-loob ang tunay na sandata.

 

At kung may isang leksyong ibinigay sa akin ng insidenteng iyon sa chatroom, ito ay ito:

Kapag naniwala kang ikaw lang ang tama, tumitigil ang pag-unlad.

At kapag tumigil ang pag-unlad ng isang lipunan, umiikot lang ang kasaysayan sa paulit-ulit na kahihiyan, eskandalo, at pagkakamali.

 

Tanging sa pagharap sa sarili nating bias—lalo na ang source bias—tayo tunay na uusad bilang bansa.

 

Ang Pilipinas ay hindi guguho dahil sa ignoransiya.

Guguho ito dahil sa mga taong hindi alam na 8080 sila.

____

 *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.

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Changing the President Will Not Save the Philippines — We Must Change the System, and Ourselves

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

 

It is a cycle we’ve seen before — and sadly, we may be watching it unfold again. Today, voices call for the ouster of President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., as though removing the man at the top will finally solve the nation’s problems. But will it? Will replacing him change anything, when the problem is no longer just the presidency? The hard truth is this: the problem is not the person — the problem is the system. And worse, the problem is also us, the people.

 

The Illusion of Change Through Personality

 

Again and again, we have ousted leaders thinking we are turning a new page, only to write the same story with different names.

 

When we ousted Ferdinand Marcos Sr. in 1986, we thought democracy had triumphed. Cory Aquino took over, but the same poverty, the same dynasties, and the same broken system remained.

When we ousted Erap Estrada, we thought things would get better. But the one who replaced him — Gloria Macapagal Arroyo — gave us the “Hello Garci” scandal.

Then we turned to Noynoy Aquino, lifted by the memory of his mother’s legacy. But even that hope was tainted by the PDAF and Napoles scam.

So we turned to a strongman — Rodrigo Duterte — because people were afraid of crime and drugs. And yes, there was a war on drugs, but what now? Investigations. Allegations. And now, his name is dragged into international cases, and he is detained at The Hague.

 

And today, we want to oust another president, thinking it will fix everything.

 

But who replaces him? The Vice President? The Speaker? The Senate President? All of them come with their own controversies, alliances, and baggage. What have we solved? Nothing — we only renamed the problem.

 

Why the System Is Broken

 

The 1987 Constitution was written in the shadow of Martial Law, born from fear of dictatorship. But what it created is a democracy that is too slow, too vague, too weak to address corruption and development, and too vulnerable to manipulation.

• It enabled dynasties to flourish.
• It weakened political parties.
• It made accountability complicated and unclear.
• And it created a political culture where popularity trumps capacity.

 

Our Constitution is outdated, our system is manipulated, and our laws are easily bent — not because they’re bad laws per se, but because the system has no real firewall against dynasties, corruption, and disinformation.

 

Why the People Are Also at Fault

 

Let’s be brutally honest. We cannot blame everything on leaders — because we keep electing them.

 

We vote for the corrupt.

We glorify dynasties.

We allow entertainers to become lawmakers without demanding competence.

We complain of corruption, and then sell our votes for five hundred pesos.

We elect immoral leaders, and then gather in the streets to oust them when they disappoint us — as if we had no hand in putting them there.

 

It is a cycle of self-inflicted wounds.

And the worst part? We don’t learn.

 

A Nation Lost in the War of Narratives

 

Now, in the age of social media, the battle is no longer in the streets — it is in the timeline, in the comment section, in the fake posts, and in paid narratives.

 

It’s hard to know what’s true anymore.

What’s trending is not always what’s right.

What’s viral is not always what’s virtuous.

 

This is no longer just a political war — this is a war of narratives, a war of disinformation, and the Filipino people are the casualties.

 

All the while, corruption continues in silence.

While we argue online about which politician to defend, trillions are lost in scandals — like the Flood Control scam.

While we are distracted by personalities, the system eats up our hopes.

 

The Real Problem: A Country Crowded by Broken Dreams

 

Everywhere you go — the streets are crowded, the schools are full, the roads are choked.

But what’s truly choking us is not just overpopulation — it’s over-concentration of power.

Positions in government are no longer public service — they are inherited, bought, protected.

If you’re not born into the right name or family, your dream of serving this nation is almost impossible.

 

This is why people say: “Mag-abroad ka na lang. Maging OFW. Umalis ka sa Pilipinas.”

Because for many, leaving feels like the only hope left.

 

But I Still Believe in the Filipino

 

I say this not out of bitterness — but out of love for country and pain from truth.

Despite everything — I still believe the Filipino has hope.

But hope will not come from removing a president.

It will come from:

• Changing the Constitution.
• Changing the system.
• Educating our people.
• Ending the reign of dynasties.
• Punishing corruption without political color.

 

Let us build a nation where the capable, not just the connected, can lead.

Where a child from a poor family, with integrity and brilliance, can become president — not just someone’s son or daughter.

 

Final Word: We Deserve a Better Country — But We Must Be Better People

 

This is not a fight of yellow versus red, of DDS versus Kakampink, or Pro-Marcos versus Anti-Marcos.

 

This is a fight between a broken society and the dream of a better one.

 

So before we oust another president, let us oust our apathy.

Before we demand change from leaders, let us demand it from ourselves.

 

And before we rewrite history again —

Let us finally rewrite our Constitution.

 

Not for politicians.

But for the Filipino people.

For a future that no longer repeats the past.

 _______________________________

Translated to Filipino

________________________________

Ang Pagpapatalsik kay Ferdinand Marcos Jr. ay Hindi Solusyon — Kailangang Baguhin ang Sistema at ang Mamamayan

 

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

 

Simula: Hindi Tao ang Problema, Kundi ang Kabuuang Sistema

 

Paulit-ulit na lamang. Kapag nadismaya tayo sa isang pangulo, gusto agad natin siyang palitan, parang magic na maaayos ang lahat. Ngayon, may mga panawagan na naman na patalsikin si Ferdinand Marcos Jr. Ngunit tanungin natin: ito ba talaga ang solusyon?

 

Pag pinalitan siya — sino ang papalit? Pangalawang Pangulo? Speaker ng House? Pangulo ng Senado? Lahat may sariling isyu, sariling alyansa, sariling kontrobersiya. Kaya ang tanong: bakit paulit-ulit tayong umaasa sa pagpapalit ng tao, kung hindi naman nagbabago ang sistema?

 

Ang Kasaysayang Paulit-Ulit: Iba Lang ang Pangalan

 

1986 — Pinatalsik si Ferdinand Marcos Sr. Nagsaya ang bayan. Pumasok si Cory Aquino. Pero hindi rin nagtagal, nakita natin na pareho pa rin ang mga problema — kahirapan, trapo, at pang-aabuso.

 

Sumunod si Erap Estrada, napalayas. Akala natin may pag-asa, pero dumating si Gloria Arroyo — may Hello Garci.

Dahil sa pagkamatay ni Cory, nanalo si Noynoy Aquino. Inasahan ng marami ang disenteng gobyerno. Pero may PDAF scam, si Janet Napoles, at mga senador na nasangkot.

Naging desperado ang tao. Ibinoto si Duterte, sa paniniwalang tatapusin niya ang krimen. Nagkaroon ng giyera kontra droga, pero ngayon? May mga imbestigasyon, kaso, at kahit siya’y hindi ligtas sa batikos.

 

Ngayon, si Bongbong Marcos ang gusto nilang palitan.

Pero tanong: kapag napalitan siya, may mababago ba?

O panibagong porma lang ng lumang problema?

 

Ang Sirang Konstitusyon, Ang Sirang Sistema

 

Ang 1987 Konstitusyon ay isinulat matapos ang Martial Law — puno ng takot sa diktadurya. Pero ang resulta: isang sistemang magulo, mabagal, at madaling manipulahin.

• Pinayagan nitong manatili ang mga dinastiya.
• Hinayaang mamatay ang tunay na mga partidong pulitikal.
• Ginawang malabo ang pananagutan.
• At inuna ang popularidad kaysa kakayahan.

 

Hanggang ngayon, paikot-ikot tayo sa parehong sistema.

Walang tunay na pagbabago dahil bulok na ang balangkas na pinapatakbo nito.

 

Ang Mamamayan Mismo ang Karamdaman

 

At wag natin lahat isisi sa mga lider. Tayo rin ang bumoboto sa kanila.

Tayo rin ang tumatanggap ng limang daan.

Tayo rin ang nagpapaloko sa ads, memes, at artista.

• Tayo ang bumoboto sa trapo.
• Tayo ang bumoboto sa mga walang alam.
• At tayo rin ang nagagalit pagkatapos — na para bang wala tayong kasalanan.

 

Paulit-ulit.

Hindi natututo.

At ang masakit — ayaw matuto.

 

Panahon ng Pekeng Balita, Pekeng Bayani

 

Ngayon, sa panahon ng social media — wala nang tiyak na totoo.

Kaliwa’t kanan ang fake news, bayad na influencer, troll farms, at disinformation campaigns.

Digmaan na ng impormasyon. Digmaan ng narrative.

 

Habang nagsasagutan tayo sa Facebook kung sinong masama o sino ang “tunay na bayani” — tuloy-tuloy ang kurapsyon.

 

Sa gitna ng lahat ng ito, naisantabi ang taong bayan.

Wala nang makain, taas-presyo, walang trabaho.

At habang may mga isyung tulad ng Flood Control Scam kung saan trilyon ang nawawala — ang mga tao’y naiiwang naguguluhan.

 

Ang Kinabukasan ng mga Pinoy: Masikip, Magulo, Walang Pag-asa?

 

Saan ka man tumingin:

Trapik sa lansangan.

Siksikan sa paaralan.

Lahat puno, lahat gipit.

 

Pero hindi lang tao ang dumadami — kundi ang makasariling ambisyon ng mga politiko.

Gobyerno na ang hanapbuhay.

Puwesto na ang negosyo.

 

Paano na ang batang mahirap na matalino?

May pag-asa pa ba siyang makapasok sa gobyerno kung wala siyang apelyidong makapangyarihan?

Wala na.

 

Ngayon, ang “pangarap” ay maging OFW.

O lumipat ng bansa.

O tumakas na lang.

Kasi sa sariling bayan, parang wala nang lugar para sa mga pangarap.

 

Ngunit May Pag-asa Pa — Sa Pagbabago ng Sistema at Isip ng Bayan

 

Hindi ito panawagan ng pagkamuhi — kundi panawagan ng paggising.

 

May pag-asa pa ang Pilipino.

Pero hindi ito manggagaling sa bagong pangulo.

Hindi sa bagong spokesperson.

Hindi sa bagong drama sa Senado.

 

Manggagaling ito sa:

• Pagbabago ng Konstitusyon.
• Pagwawasak sa sistemang trapo at dinastiya.
• Pagpapalalim ng edukasyong pulitikal sa mamamayan.
• Pagpapanagot sa mga corrupt — kahit sinong kulay nila.

 

Gusto natin ng tunay na pagbabago?

Mag-umpisa tayo sa pagbabago ng ating sarili.

 

Wakas: Hindi Pangulo ang Palitan — Kundi ang Pag-iisip ng Bansa

 

Ang laban na ito hindi Marcos vs Aquino,

Hindi DDS vs Kakampink,

Hindi pula laban sa dilaw.

 

Ito ay laban ng sirang lipunan laban sa pag-asang bumangon.

 

Bago tayo magpatalsik ng pangulo, patalsikin muna natin ang ating pagiging bulag.

Bago tayo mangarap ng bagong Pilipinas, gumising muna tayo sa ating pagkakakulong sa nakaraan.

At bago tayo muling magkamali, baguhin na natin ang Konstitusyon — hindi para sa mga politiko, kundi para sa sambayanang Pilipino.

 ____

 *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.

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