Stars Without a Battlefield? The Law, the Salute, and the Illusion of Rank

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

A star, by itself, is only metal shaped into a symbol. It acquires meaning not because it shines, but because of the battlefield behind it — the years of service, the discipline, the chain of command, and the law that recognizes it. Without that battlefield, a star risks becoming decoration rather than designation.

Recently, I found myself engaged in a quiet dialectical examination after reading a question posted on Facebook under the account of the 27th Chief of the Philippine National Police, General Dionardo Carlos, who was also my former Directorial Staff Course student. The question was simple, almost procedural in tone:

At first reading, it seemed like a technical inquiry. But beneath it lies a profound institutional concern: What gives rank its legitimacy? Is it the insignia? The appointment paper? Or the statute that defines it?

In the uniformed services such as the Armed Forces of the Philippines, the Philippine Coast Guard, the Bureau of Jail Management and Penology, and the Bureau of Fire Protection, rank is not decorative. It is statutory. It is clearly indicated in appointment orders. It is earned through years of command, institutional discipline, and legal commissioning. When a general wears stars, those stars represent a recognized place in a legally defined chain of command. The salute rendered is not personal admiration; it is institutional acknowledgment.

Civilian agencies such as the Bureau of Customs, Bureau of Immigration, the Food and Drug Administration, and the Bureau of Corrections operate differently. Their heads are presidential appointees with significant administrative authority. Their mandates are national and strategic. Yet unless a statute or executive issuance expressly grants rank equivalency, they do not automatically belong to the military or police rank structure.

And this is where confusion quietly emerges.

A military salute is not merely a gesture of courtesy. It is recognition of commissioned authority within a structured hierarchy. It is governed by doctrine, regulation, and institutional tradition. It is rendered to rank recognized by law — not simply to position.

If a civilian appointee does not hold legally conferred military rank or formally granted rank equivalency, uniformed personnel are not institutionally obligated to render a military salute. Professional respect may always be extended. Courtesy remains part of discipline. But the salute itself is anchored in commissioned authority.

The larger issue here is not ego. It is not rivalry between civilian and uniformed leadership. It is institutional clarity. When symbols are adopted without explicit legal grounding, we risk confusing visibility with legitimacy. Governance depends on defined structures. Institutions rely on clearly drawn lines.

Perhaps, then, it is about time for lawmakers to address this ambiguity directly. Congress may need to enact a clarificatory law that definitively defines the rank equivalency — or the absence thereof — of star-carrying positions within civilian agencies. A statute that clearly states when and how rank equivalency is granted, what insignias may lawfully be worn, and whether such equivalency carries saluting protocol implications would eliminate uncertainty. Such legislative precision would protect both civilian authority and military integrity from interpretative confusion.

Because ambiguity, if left unresolved, gradually erodes institutional discipline.

Throughout my years mentoring officers and advising agencies, I have emphasized that authority does not emanate from insignia. It emanates from mandate. One may hold immense administrative power without ever wearing a star. Conversely, wearing a star without a clear statutory basis risks reducing the symbol into ornamentation.

If we are to preserve the integrity of our institutions, we must protect the boundaries that define them. Civilian authority must be respected for what it is. Military rank must be preserved for what it represents. When both are clearly articulated in law, both are strengthened.

Stars without a battlefield may still shine.

But shine alone does not create legitimacy.

In the end, it is not the glitter of metal that commands obedience — it is the clarity of statute, the discipline of hierarchy, and the supremacy of law.

And that, above all, is what truly deserves our salute.

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*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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Lawyer by Title, Comedian by Performance — Who Really Understands the Constitution?

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

Recently, while scrolling through Facebook, I came across a video clip of a Senate hearing. In that clip, a male senator who is a lawyer was confidently discussing our historical territorial claims, yet in his narrative he appeared to brush aside certain well-documented historical facts. Moments later, a veteran lady senator—widely regarded as an expert and scholar in national security—responded with structured citations, historical references, and doctrinal clarity. As I watched the exchange unfold on my screen, I felt a mix of disbelief and reflection. It was not merely a clash of personalities. It was a clash of discipline.

That moment revealed something deeper about the state of our public legal discourse.

There is a great difference between a comedian who talks like a lawyer, speaks like a lawyer, and carries the wisdom of a lawyer, and a lawyer—a self-proclaimed legal expert—who makes people laugh and acts like a comedian by stating facts that are amusing but are not found in history and are sometimes off tangent in law, according to respected legal scholars. The distinction may sound ironic, but it is deeply consequential.

Let us give proper weight to the dedicated comedian-legislator who has earned his stripes not merely on stage but in the halls of Congress. Years of legislative experience expose a person to the real mechanics of lawmaking: drafting bills clause by clause, defending amendments under scrutiny, navigating committee hearings, reconciling constitutional limits with political realities, and understanding how a misplaced word in a statute can create unintended consequences for millions. That immersion builds interpretive depth. It sharpens instinct. It forces humility before the text of the Constitution. Add to this a commitment to self-development—serious reading of jurisprudence, consultation with legal scholars, study of parliamentary procedure—and what emerges is not a mere entertainer dabbling in law, but a lawmaker seasoned by institutional exposure. When such a figure speaks with wit, it is style layered upon substance. When he interprets the law, he does so not as a spectator but as one who has wrestled with its making.

In contrast, when a lawyer abandons scholarly restraint and performs legal commentary with theatrical exaggeration, the risk becomes evident. The title “lawyer” carries inherent authority. The public assumes competence. When that authority is used to narrate history loosely, stretch doctrines creatively, or assert sweeping claims unsupported by jurisprudence, the laughter that follows is not harmless. It shapes perception. It influences belief. It molds civic understanding of sovereignty, accountability, and institutional limits.

In this era of social media dominance, paid trolls, and relentless cyberbullying, public discourse is no longer a simple exchange of ideas. It is often a battlefield of narratives. Supporters, whether their chosen figure is correct or not, instantly elevate him as a legal genius. Meanwhile, those they oppose—especially the comedian who dares to speak seriously—are bombarded with insults and derision. Substance becomes secondary to loyalty. Noise overwhelms nuance. Yet I remain convinced that Filipinos are more discerning than the loudest comment sections suggest. Our people know the difference between a sincere, quiet, and humble senator who genuinely desires to serve and a noisy senator who thrives on spectacle, positioning himself for the next election or seeking the attention of a presidential frontrunner.

Law is not entertainment. It is the architecture of sovereignty. In matters of territorial claims and national security, inaccuracies are not trivial. They shape diplomatic posture. They influence public sentiment. They affect how future generations understand our rights and responsibilities as a nation. When historical facts are brushed aside for rhetorical effect, the consequences extend beyond momentary applause.

The exchange I witnessed between the male senator-lawyer and the veteran national security scholar reminded me that expertise is not measured by volume but by verifiability. It reminded me that discipline outweighs drama. It reminded me that humility before history is more powerful than confidence before cameras.

And so, if asked where I would place my trust, I would place it on the dedicated comedian-legislator who has proven through years of legislative immersion, self-study, and disciplined service that wit can coexist with wisdom. In the halls of the Senate, I would wager my confidence—not lightly, but with conviction—that such a man may, in practice and prudence, prove more grounded, more prepared, and more institutionally seasoned than the real lawyer or self-proclaimed legal expert who mistakes applause for authority. I would bet on that judgment with the utmost treasures of my life, because what is at stake is not personality but the integrity of our Republic.

*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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Calculated Preservation and Rhetorical Nationalism: A Covenant and a Warning for the West Philippine Sea

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

There are nights when I think about the West Philippine Sea not as an analyst or commentator, but simply as a Filipino father who happens to be single as of now but with the happiness of having a siopao with pancit. I imagine a fisherman pushing his fragile boat into waters far larger than his courage should ever have to be. I imagine a young Coast Guard officer gripping the rail of his vessel while staring at ships bigger, louder, and backed by a global power. In those quiet moments, I ask myself what kind of nationalism we truly owe them.

In our national conversation, two forces wrestle for dominance. Calculated Preservation speaks in measured tones. It urges us to protect the nation long term, avoid reckless escalation, build alliances, strengthen capacity, preserve stability, and weigh consequences before raising our voices. Rhetorical Nationalism speaks in thunder. It declares that this sea is ours, that not an inch will be surrendered, that we will stand and be counted. It speaks to the heart and reminds us that sovereignty is not negotiable. It tells the fisherman that his government sees him. It tells the Coast Guard officer that the nation stands behind him.

I confess with honesty that I understand both. I understand the leader who chooses Calculated Preservation because leadership is not shouting from the shoreline. Leadership is carrying the burden of consequence. It is knowing that every word can ripple through diplomatic corridors, financial markets, and military calculations. It is fearing that emotional escalation could cost lives, livelihoods, and regional stability. Calculated Preservation is not always weakness. Sometimes it is disciplined foresight.

Yet I also feel the ache of Rhetorical Nationalism. A nation that stops speaking firmly about its rights slowly stops believing in them. Silence can become habit. Caution can become normalization. What begins as strategic restraint can quietly become gradual erosion. A reef today, a shoal tomorrow, a narrative rewritten while we debate terminology. The danger of Calculated Preservation is not sudden collapse but slow fading. It is the risk that future generations inherit less because we chose comfort over clarity too often. It is the possibility that adversaries interpret patience as predictability.

The danger of Rhetorical Nationalism is different but equally real. It can overpromise beyond our capacity. It can provoke without preparation. It can corner the state into confrontation that bravery alone cannot sustain. Pride without capability is fragile. Emotion without strategy is costly.

So the path for the Philippines in the West Philippine Sea cannot be blind thunder nor timid tide. It must be Prudent Assertive Nationalism. This is the integration of heart and mind. It is the voice that firmly declares that this sea is ours while strengthening naval capability, diplomatic alliances, economic resilience, and legal enforcement. It is resolve that patrols visibly yet negotiates intelligently. It is discipline that avoids reckless provocation but refuses silent normalization.

The fisherman does not need speeches alone. He needs protection. The Coast Guard officer does not need abstract doctrine. He needs national clarity. Our children do not need inherited excuses. They need inherited sovereignty.

When Calculated Preservation and Rhetorical Nationalism are integrated into Prudent Assertive Nationalism, the result is credibility. Adversaries see steadiness. Allies see reliability. Citizens see that we are neither reckless nor retreating. The sea does not respond to noise alone. It responds to presence.

The West Philippine Sea is not merely a geopolitical chessboard. It is a living test of whether we can love our country wisely. It asks whether we can defend it passionately without endangering it unnecessarily. It challenges us to preserve stability without surrendering dignity.

The waves will rise and fall. Foreign ships will come and go. Diplomatic seasons will shift. But what must not shift is us. The West Philippine Sea is not just testing our policies. It is testing our hearts.

One day, a child will open a textbook and read about this generation. One day, a fisherman’s son will ask what we did when our waters were challenged. One day, a young cadet will stand on the deck of a Philippine vessel and wonder whether those before him stood firm or stood silent.

Let it not be said that we chose comfort over courage or noise over wisdom. Let it not be written that we watched the tide change and did nothing. Choose to be a Prudent Assertive Nationalist. Choose to love this country enough to defend it bravely and wisely.

Because sovereignty is not inherited automatically. It is protected by generations who decide it is worth the discipline, the sacrifice, and sometimes the tears. When history looks back, may it see a people who guarded their sea with fire in their hearts and steadiness in their hands.

The question is no longer what kind of policy we prefer. The question is what kind of Filipinos we choose to be.

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*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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