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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When They Voted 'Yes' to the 1987 Constitution Out of Fear, and Why We Must Revisit It Now

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

In 1987, I was only a first-year pre-dentistry student at the University of the East, Manila. I was young and idealistic, still discovering the power of ideas and the weight of words. Yet I was not silent. I was the youngest member of our university debating circle, standing beside seasoned and mature teammates who were respected senior university debaters. They were sharper, more experienced, and more confident. I was the youngest in the room, for I am also mistaken for a high school student. But I was there. And together, we took a position that was not popular in that historic moment. We opposed the ratification of the 1987 Philippine Constitution.

We were not opposing democracy. We were not longing for dictatorship. We were asking structural questions. We scrutinized provisions. We examined the economic restrictions. We debated the wisdom of retaining the unitary presidential system that had already shaped decades of centralized governance. We asked whether fear was silently writing parts of the Constitution. History, however, was not waiting for freshmen debaters.

Corazon Aquino had just assumed office after the EDSA People Power Revolution. The nation was fragile. The revolutionary government needed legitimacy. Stability was the immediate objective. Fear of regression hovered over every conversation. That was when I first encountered the phrase "critical, yes."

Many who saw defects still voted yes. They acknowledged weaknesses but approved the document. They chose order over uncertainty. According to Juan Ponce Enrile, if the Constitution had been rejected in the February 1987 plebiscite, President Aquino would be compelled to call for a snap election. Imagine the tension of that moment. A revolutionary government without a ratified constitutional foundation. Political instability reopening. Fidel V. Ramos and others strongly advocated constitutional normalization because the alternative seemed too risky.

And so the people voted yes. They voted out of survival. They voted out of fear of chaos. They voted to stabilize a wounded Republic. But what was meant to be a critical yes slowly became passive endurance.

Today, decades later, I look back not as that freshman, but as a citizen who has witnessed administrations rise and fall, promises proclaimed and abandoned, and policies initiated and discontinued. And I must say this with conviction. Tragically, we have put ourselves in a psychological cage of the unitary presidential system, which no longer works.

The critical yes of 1987 was never meant to be permanent silence. It was a temporary compromise under extraordinary circumstances. Yet for nearly four decades, we have treated the Constitution as untouchable. We defend it reflexively. We fear amendment as if reform were betrayal.

Since 1987, we have elected countless batches of Congress. In both chambers, there has consistently been a Committee on Constitutional Amendments or Constitutional Revision. Every Congress organizes it. Every budget allocates funds for it. Hearings are conducted. Discussions are televised. Proposals are floated.

Yet after decades, no meaningful structural reform has emerged. So I ask you plainly, what is the purpose of maintaining these committees if they never complete the task? Are we preserving reform or preserving comfort? Are we serious about revisiting structural defects, or merely performing the ritual of discussion?

Meanwhile, the same patterns persist. Every six years, the nation resets. Policies are interrupted. Development plans lose continuity. Governance remains personality driven rather than institution anchored. Executive power remains heavily centralized in a geographically fragmented archipelago. Elections become existential battles instead of orderly transitions. We continue blaming individuals while ignoring the framework that shapes them.

When I read that Senate President Tito Sotto was advocating for constitutional reform or revision, I felt awakened. I felt that perhaps the "critical yes" of 1987 could finally be practiced in its true spirit. Those defects that were acknowledged yet postponed could finally be corrected.

Because the real issue in 1987 was not merely the Constitution itself. It was the condition of the people and the fragility of the moment. Many citizens did not even fully examine the constitutional framework they voted on. They voted yes out of survival, out of urgency, and out of fear that rejection would plunge the nation into instability.

A constitution approved primarily out of survival and not fully understood by the people must eventually be revisited out of wisdom. From 1987 to 2026, nearly four decades have passed. Entire generations have grown up under this framework. The world has changed. Governance demands have changed. Economic competition has intensified. Institutional expectations have matured. Yet our constitutional architecture remains largely frozen.

We do not need to wait another decade. We must act now. Amend specific provisions if they are outdated. Recalibrate structural imbalances if they hinder institutional stability. And if serious national deliberation concludes that incremental amendments are insufficient, then even consider comprehensive redesign.

Because what we experience today are the recurring chaos, the policy discontinuity, the instability, the frustrations of daily governance, and the structural inefficiencies that touch your everyday life; these are not purely accidents of personality. They are consequences of design. Passive endurance must end!

We cannot keep forming committees that never complete reform. We cannot keep funding discussions that never result in decisive action. We cannot keep defending a framework simply because it once served a fragile moment in history. To amend the Constitution is not to dishonor 1987. It is to complete its unfinished promise. It is to transform a document born in fear into a structure strengthened by reflection. It is to move from survival to strategy.

And if we do not change our Constitution now, if we continue postponing reform, then every DDS, every Kakampink, and every Tulfonatic will wake up tomorrow facing the same daily frustrations. The same traffic that never improves. The same bureaucratic delays. The same unstable policies. The same political noise. The same cycle of hope and disappointment every election. The same structural problems passed from one administration to another.

The Constitution is not an abstract legal manuscript. It shapes the life of the ordinary Filipino. It affects the worker who leaves home before sunrise. It affects the small entrepreneur navigating regulations. It affects the student dreaming of opportunity. It affects families trying to survive inflation and instability.

If we refuse to correct the design, then the suffering becomes predictable. And predictable suffering is no longer accidental. It is tolerated. This is the end of passive endurance. The Republic deserves not only a Constitution that once saved it, but a Constitution that can now sustain it. And sustaining it requires courage. Courage to review. Courage to amend. Courage to evolve.

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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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When Kaufman Defended Tatay Digong Before the World: Law, Love, and the Fractured Filipino Heart

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

On February 23, 2026, inside the solemn halls of the International Criminal Court, Nicholas Kaufman rose to defend former President Rodrigo Duterte. It was a legal proceeding, structured and procedural. Yet for us Filipinos, it felt heavier than law. It felt personal.

Kaufman spoke of political motivation. He questioned jurisdiction. He defended the anti-drug campaign as the product of a democratic mandate. He appealed to the image of Tatay Digong, not merely as an accused individual, but as a father figure to millions. His words were measured, yet they carried the weight of a nation divided between loyalty and loss.

To analyze this moment fairly, we must hold steady hearts.

It is true that Duterte was elected with overwhelming support. Many Filipinos believed that strong leadership was necessary to confront criminality. Communities plagued by drugs and violence felt heard for the first time. For them, his presidency symbolized order restored and authority reclaimed. This sentiment cannot be dismissed lightly. It represents lived experience and genuine gratitude.

Yet it is also true that serious allegations emerged during the campaign against illegal drugs. Families mourned. Questions were raised. Human rights concerns became part of national and international discourse. These voices cannot be dismissed either. They represent grief and unresolved pain.

Between these realities stands the law.

Kaufman argues that the ICC lacks jurisdiction because the Philippines withdrew from the Rome Statute. This is a legitimate legal argument that the judges must examine carefully. At the same time, established treaty principles suggest that jurisdiction may remain for acts committed while membership was active. The Court will interpret the law. It must do so independently of political pressure and emotional tides.

He also described the charges as politically motivated and linked them to shifting alliances under President Ferdinand Marcos Jr.. Political context undeniably shapes public perception. In the Philippines, history and power are intertwined. But perception alone does not determine guilt or innocence. Evidence does. Procedure does. Judicial reasoning does.

As I reflect on this unfolding chapter, I cannot ignore another dimension. I see a narrative that may now be utilized in the 2028 Presidential Election. The image of a father standing before an international court, the suggestion of persecution, and the appeal to loyalty and sovereignty, these are powerful currents. For supporters of Vice President Sara Duterte, this moment may strengthen a sense of solidarity and continuity. For her political opponents, it may feel like a sudden explosion in the electoral landscape. A narrative, once formed, can travel faster than facts and linger longer than verdicts.

But here lies our greatest responsibility as citizens.

If we allow ourselves to consume this ICC case purely through emotion, we risk altering not just an election but our civic character. If we romanticize without reflection, we may surrender critical thinking to personality. If we condemn without patience, we may surrender justice to anger. When emotion replaces discernment, our national behavior changes. We argue more fiercely, we listen less carefully, and we vote more impulsively.

We must be vigilant.

Let us not be carried away by narratives designed to benefit political families who dominate the national stage. Courtrooms should not become campaign stages. Legal proceedings should not be reduced to dynastic ammunition. The Philippines is not about the Marcoses. The Philippines is not about the Dutertes.

The Philippines is about us Filipinos.

It is about the fisherman who wakes before dawn. It is about the mother who prays for her child’s safety. It is about the student who dreams of a country stronger than its past. It is about whether we choose institutions over personalities, evidence over rumor, and maturity over fanaticism.

When Kaufman defended Tatay Digong before the world, he performed his duty as counsel. The prosecution will perform theirs. The judges will decide based on law. But the deeper verdict will be written in our hearts. Will we allow this moment to divide us further, or will we rise above personality politics and demand both strength and accountability within the rule of law?

If we choose wisdom, then regardless of the outcome, the republic will stand taller. If we choose blind loyalty or blind hatred, the fracture within us will deepen.

In the end, this is not only the trial of a former president. It is the quiet trial of our national conscience. And I pray that when history looks back at this moment, it will say that the Filipino people chose clarity over chaos, unity over dynasty, and country over clan.

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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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