* Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
As a professor of public safety doctrine development, I have
taught doctrines not as mere words on paper, but as principles meant to be
lived by the men and women who wear the uniform. These lessons were never
intended to stay confined within books or classrooms—they were meant to shape
character, guide decisions, and define the moral compass of those entrusted
with power. Over the years, I have watched some of my students rise to become
generals, and a few ascend to the highest post of all—Chief of the Philippine
National Police.
That is why every new appointment to this position is never
just a headline or an official announcement to me—it is deeply personal. It is
a moment of reckoning, a question that grips my heart: Will the doctrines of
service, honor, and justice that I have labored to teach take root in this
leader? Will the principles of service, honor, and justice that I have
dedicated my life to instill in the man who now wears the nation's most
prominent badge? In his hands, he holds not only authority but also the embodiment
of values that must endure beyond any single term of office.
When General José Melencio Corpuz Nartatez Jr. was appointed
Chief of the Philippine National Police, I felt the weight of that moment. He
brings with him an impressive breadth of experience—spanning operations,
finance, intelligence, and regional command—credentials that speak of
competence and capability. Yet the real question is not what he has already
accomplished, but what he must now accomplish when faced with daunting
realities. He inherits a police force fractured by internal divisions after the
removal of General Nicolas Torre III, still bruised by the long-standing
rivalry between PMA and PNPA graduates, and struggling to regain the trust of a
skeptical public. The battlefield he steps into is not one fought with bullets
or firepower, but with unity, integrity, and trust. It is a war of perceptions
as much as principles, and its outcome will define not only his leadership but
also the future image of the PNP itself.
He does not step into this role empty-handed; he carries
with him the legacy of those who paved the way, standing firmly on the
shoulders of his PMA upperclassmen and the many chiefs who came before him.
Each one left behind lessons—some shining with inspiration, others carved from
painful experience—that together form a reservoir of wisdom. These lessons are
not merely memories but guiding principles, offering Nartatez a compass as he
negotiates the difficulties associated with leadership, reminding him that
greatness is never built in isolation but upon the foundations laid by those
who walked the path before.
I think of General Leonardo Espina, one of my former
students, whose public tears during the Mamasapano tragedy revealed that even
generals can grieve—and that compassion, far from being weakness, is a true
form of strength in leadership. General Debold Sinas, who embodied firmness and
decisiveness, constantly reminded us that authority must always coexist with
fairness, as power without justice breeds fear rather than respect. General
Guillermo Eleazar, another of my students, dedicated himself to cleansing the
ranks, proving that credibility in the eyes of the public begins with
credibility within the institution. General Benjamin Acorda Jr. demonstrated a
calm and steady demeanor, teaching that leadership is not always about making
noise but about exuding quiet resolve and consistency. General Dionardo Carlos
modeled professionalism in its purest sense—silent, focused, and genuinely
effective—showing that true results often come without fanfare. Finally,
General Vicente Danao Jr. stood as an example of bold decisiveness, reminding
us that while courage is essential, it must always be tempered with justice.
Together, these leaders exemplify a range of leadership styles, all grounded in
values that continue to embody the true spirit of service.
Not everyone who rose to the top left behind lessons worth
remembering, but some did—and their examples remain motivating. General Oscar
Albayalde may have secured the top post of PNP Chief over General Gregorio
Pimentel of PMA Class ’85, the former Director for Intelligence, yet Pimentel’s
unparalleled foresight and ability to translate intelligence into actionable
policies remain a benchmark in strategic leadership. Then there is General Bong
Dickson, my favorite Deputy Chief for Administration and now Deputy Director
General for Administration of PDEA, whose excellence in working with people
reminded us that the PNP is not a faceless machine but a community of
individuals. General Moro Virgilio Lazo, a man of unwavering character, stood
firm in his conviction that “white is white,” embodying integrity in its purest
form. Equally inspiring is General Isagani Nerez, now head of PDEA, a humble
man of faith whose pro-God, pro-life stance reflects a moral clarity that
shapes his leadership. Together, these men demonstrate that true leadership is
not merely about position but about principles that endure beyond the titles
they once held.
I also remember General Rolando Asuncion, whose meekness and
sincerity earned a respect far deeper than fear ever could, showing that true
leadership is built not on intimidation but on character. Alongside him stands
General Roel Obusan, a leader who embodied competence and authority,
consistently valuing truth over theatrics and substance over showmanship. These
men proved that integrity and humility are as vital to leadership as command
presence and authority, and that the quiet strength of character often leaves a
louder imprint than the noise of empty power. Their examples, together with
those of General Rene Gumban, General John Arnaldo, General Cesar Hawthorne
Binag, General Mao Aplasca, General Ric Zapata, Gen John Sosito, and General
Val De Leon, form a legacy too rich to capture in a single telling. Each
contributed to shaping the ideals of discipline, honor, and service—principles
that continue to define what it means to lead with purpose. Collectively, they
remind Nartatez that he does not enter history alone; he carries within him the
strength, wisdom, and enduring values of those who have come before, a legacy
that illuminates his path and challenges him to uphold the same standard of
greatness.
The deeper question now is simple but profound: Will he be
coachable? Leadership at the top is a lonely place—surrounded by flattery but
starved of truth. The most effective leaders are not those who present
themselves as experts, but rather those who continue to learn even at the
pinnacle of authority. Humility, foresight, integrity, moral conviction, and
professionalism are not abstract virtues; they are living truths earned in
sacrifice and failure, waiting to be heard and embraced. The challenge for him
is whether he will listen, for a leader who cannot be taught can never truly
lead.
And then comes his crucible: the Citizens’ Security Program, a mandate from President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. This is a chance to redefine the essence of policing in the Philippines, not just another policy. For decades, the PNP has wrestled with a troubling perception: a force feared rather than trusted, associated with authority rather than service. Citizens have long yearned for police officers who inspire reassurance instead of intimidation, who wield their authority with dignity rather than abuse it with power. The Citizens’ Security Program holds the promise of answering that call, of restoring confidence in law enforcement by bringing it closer to the people it serves. If Nartatez embraces this task with sincerity, clarity of vision, and unwavering resolve, it could become the hallmark of his leadership—his greatest legacy—a transformation that recasts the PNP from an institution of fear into a genuine partner for peace, order, and public trust.
I write these words not from a distance but with a deep
sense of attachment. I know these names; I've taught some, studied all, and
integrated their lessons into doctrine and leadership. Their stories are not
just entries in a history book; they are living reminders of what leadership
can be at its best—and what it must never become. For this reason, I view
General Nartatez not merely as another individual appointed to a high office,
but rather as a man at a pivotal juncture, where the decisions made today will
have far-reaching consequences in the future.
If he listens, if he learns, if he leads with humility,
courage, and integrity, then perhaps history will remember him as the chief who
restored not just authority but honor to the badge. In the end, leadership is
not measured by the stars on one's shoulder or the titles in their record. It
is defined by the trust one earns, the service one gives, and the legacy of
honor one leaves behind for others to follow.
