*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope,
There are moments when I pause—when the headlines feel too
familiar, when another incompetent appointee takes oath, when another press
release speaks of “change” as if it hasn’t been promised a thousand times
before—and I can’t help but ask, quietly but urgently:
Why? Why is it so difficult to find the right people to lead this
country?
This question haunts me, not just as a citizen, but as
someone who still dares to believe in the power of good governance. We have
over 111 million Filipinos. Are you telling me that in this sea of talent, of
bright minds and kind hearts, we still end up with officials whose main
qualification is proximity to power?
How many times have we heard this? A Cabinet secretary who
knows nothing about their department. A bureau chief appointed because of
loyalty, not legacy. A government spokesperson consistently distorts facts and disseminates false information while maintaining a professional demeanor. And all of us—tayong mga Pilipino—we
watch, we ache, and yet we endure.
It’s exhausting.
And what’s worse is that we’ve become so used to the
dysfunction that it no longer shocks us. We’ve been conditioned to expect
incompetence, to brace for disappointment. We celebrate mediocrity because
we're desperate for even a bit of honesty, a little competence, a little care.
However, I refuse to compromise on standards.
I am weary of maintaining the facade that this situation is acceptable—that public service has become merely a playground for the powerful and a retirement plan for those who are loyal and sycophantic. We, the populace, are compelled to endure the repercussions of their appointments as they slumber comfortably in air-conditioned luxury. However, it is important to recognize that this matter cannot be generalized. Still, we need to look at reality!
What happened to public service being a calling?
What happened to integrity? To vision? What happened to the kind of leadership that listens, makes sacrifices, and understands?
Don’t tell me we don’t have people like that. I’ve met them.
I’ve worked with them. Some are teachers who spend their own money so their
students can have school supplies. Some are nurses who work overtime without receiving pay. Some are local officials who quietly clean up communities without needing
press coverage. Some are scholars, innovators, civil servants, students,
retirees—ordinary Filipinos with extraordinary hearts.
But they’re not in Malacañang. They’re not in the Cabinet.
They’re not holding the reins of agencies that shape the lives of millions.
And that’s what hurts.
We don’t have a shortage of qualified people. What we have
is a crisis of values at the top. People are being chosen not for what they can
give to the country but for what they can give to the President, to the KKK (Kamag-anak, Kaibigan, KaNegosyo), and to the powerful.
I’ve read the reform proposals. The frameworks. The roadmaps presented were idealistic in nature. I came across and
read scholastic papers on structural reforms, mindset shifts, better leadership, and citizen participation. All noble. All true. But I’ve come to
understand something simple and painful:
You cannot repair a broken system with people around you who are also broken.
And you cannot ask the nation to trust again if you continue
to insult us with names we did not choose, with leaders we did not deserve, and with decisions made behind closed doors in rooms we cannot enter.
We are told to wait. To understand. We are advised to exercise patience.
But we’ve waited for decades. We’ve understood far too much.
And our patience is bleeding into resignation.
Still… I would rather not give up.
Giving up would allow them to emerge victorious. The corrupt, the
incompetent, the manipulative, and the indifferent thrive. They thrive when good people
grow tired. They succeed when our anger turns into silence.
So maybe this reflection is also a cry—for courage. We must persistently inquire, insist, and maintain our conviction that the appropriate individuals exist—and they merit an opportunity to contribute.
Perhaps it is time for us to shift our focus from solely examining those at the highest levels and begin fostering growth from the grassroots. Maybe we empower the young leaders, the teachers, the
health workers, the reformists, and the quiet warriors who serve with integrity
even when no one is watching.
And maybe—just maybe—one day soon, the President, or the
next one, will look beyond political debts and start choosing with wisdom. With
conscience. We possess an understanding of the past.
We don't demand perfection. We’re just asking
for leaders who won’t betray the country they’ve sworn to serve.
As for me, a hopeless
hopeful hoping for hope, I write. I speak. I stand.
Because our nation deserves voices, not whispers. Action,
not apathy. Truth, not silence.
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