*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
I once had an old desktop computer that I depended on for work. One evening, it froze completely. No keyboard strokes worked, no mouse clicks responded. Out of frustration, I pressed the power button and forced it to shut down, thinking that when I turned it back on, everything would return to normal. And it did—for a few minutes. But soon, the same programs crashed again. The truth was, the problem wasn’t solved by shutting down and restarting. The problem was in the bad sectors of the hard drive and in the corrupted programs that kept failing. The machine looked new after a restart, but deep inside, it was still broken.
That computer became a metaphor I carry with me whenever I think about government and politics. Shutting down the system, as some advocate by pointing to what is happening in Nepal, is like pressing the restart button on that frozen machine. It may give the illusion of a fresh start, it may even provide a temporary sense of relief, but the bad sectors of the hard drive remain. The corruption embedded in the system doesn’t vanish. Instead, the same errors come back, only now under a different face, a different operator, or a different coalition.
In Nepal, the constant dissolving of parliaments, collapsing of governments, and replacing of prime minister is supposed to be a cleansing process, a chance to punish leaders and demand better governance. Yet ordinary citizens still wake up to the same frustrations—poverty, inequality, lack of services, and rampant corruption. Why? Because the shutdown of the system only changes who sits in the chair, but it does not remove the syndicates and external forces that truly control the levers of power. Outside players—economic elites, foreign influencers, political dynasties—still run their operations, benefiting from every collapse, from every revolt. The system itself remains corrupted.
And this is where I want to leave a thought for those who will read this now and remember it later. Mark my words: a year or two from today, Nepal will still struggle with the same corruption it faces now, perhaps even worse, because outside forces that profit from instability will continue to thrive. Revolts and shutdowns only weaken the nation further, while those external beneficiaries strengthen their grip. Remember this article when that time comes, because the cycle will repeat unless they choose a deeper solution—a re-format of their system, not just a shutdown of their government.
The Philippines must also reflect deeply on its own history. In 1986, we poured into EDSA with the dream of a better life, a government free from dictatorship, and a society where justice would finally prevail. People Power was a proud moment; it inspired the world. But ask ourselves honestly: did life get better? For many, life became harder. The 1987 Constitution, hailed as a symbol of restored democracy, also became the seed of today’s dysfunction. It created a weak and fragmented political structure, encouraged a party-list system that has been exploited by dynasties and opportunists, and enshrined rules that paralyzed true reform. The dream of a clean and prosperous nation slipped away, replaced by deeper poverty, more corruption, and endless political bickering.
Again, in 2001, the nation marched back to EDSA, this time to unseat a leader accused of corruption through illegal gambling. Millions hoped that by changing one man at the top, the system would be purified. But did corruption end? Did illegal gambling disappear? No—it flourished even more, evolving into a bigger and more complicated monster. Syndicates grew stronger, corruption spread wider, and the ordinary Filipino saw no relief. Just like that old computer, we shut down, restarted, and put in a new operator, but the bad sectors of the system—the very roots of corruption—were never fixed.
This is why I believe we must stop fooling ourselves with shutdowns and revolts. They give us the drama of change but not its substance. What we truly need is a re-format of the entire system. And when I say re-format, I mean starting from the very foundation—our Constitution, our political structure, our electoral system, and even our cultural mindset.
I have long believed that federalism is one key. A centralized system has only made corruption easier because power is concentrated in Manila, where syndicates and dynasties negotiate their deals. If power is distributed to the regions, local governments will not only be more accountable to their people, but opportunities will be spread more evenly. Federalism, when designed carefully, can weaken the stranglehold of political dynasties and make governance closer to the lives of ordinary Filipinos.
The party-list system also cries out for re-formatting. What was once envisioned as a way to give voice to the marginalized has been hijacked by the very dynasties it sought to prevent. We must redesign it to truly serve laborers, farmers, fisherfolk, and indigenous peoples—not political families hiding under new acronyms. The party-list law needs cleansing, and its intent must be restored to give a real seat at the table to those who have long been ignored.
We must also strengthen anti-corruption institutions not as tools of political vendetta, but as permanent watchdogs that transcend administrations. Ombudsmen, audit commissions, and anti-graft courts must be given sharper teeth and protected from political influence. The justice system must be re-coded so that plunderers cannot buy their freedom or delay their cases until they die of old age.
But I know that even if these structural reforms are enacted, they will fail if culture remains the same. If voters still sell their votes for a few hundred pesos, dynasties will continue to win. If citizens still admire politicians for their wealth rather than their integrity, corruption will continue to thrive. If we excuse “small” corruption—like cheating in exams, bribing traffic enforcers, or pulling strings to avoid accountability—we are feeding the same virus we claim to hate.
This is why the re-formatting of the system must also begin in the grassroots. Teachers must instill in their students not only knowledge, but the discipline of honesty. Parents must raise their children to value integrity over convenience. Workers must refuse to participate in bribery, even when pressured. Communities must learn to hold their leaders accountable, not by blind loyalty, but by critical thinking and active participation. Civic education, moral values, and patriotism must become the antivirus that protects the re-formatted nation.
Every Filipino has a role. A student who refuses to cheat is part of the re-formatting. A worker who declines to pay a fixer is part of the re-formatting. A voter who refuses to sell their ballot is part of the re-formatting. A citizen who speaks the truth even when unpopular is part of the re-formatting. These small acts may seem powerless, but when multiplied by millions, they become the firewall that corruption cannot break.
Shutting down government is like turning off the power button of a frozen computer. It may restart, but it will still crash because the system itself is broken. Re-formatting, however, gives us the chance to rebuild a nation on clean ground, free from viruses, and designed to serve its real owners—the people.
If we truly want to re-format our nation, we must find the courage to change our Constitution, to adopt federalism, to cleanse our party-list system, to empower anti-corruption courts, and to rebuild our culture of governance from the ground up. It will be painful. It will mean letting go of comfort zones and privileges. But only then can we finally break the cycle of corruption and see a government that runs, not for syndicates and dynasties, but for the ordinary Filipino.
That is the only way forward. That is the only way to
finally marked and paralyzed the bad sectors of our national hard drive. That
is the only way to ensure that this time, when the system boots up again, it
will truly work for all of us.
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