*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
I once heard a parable that stayed with me for years. If you ask a man known to be insane what two times two is, and he answers “two,” will you believe him? The instinct is to doubt because of who gave the answer. But if you pause, you realize that the number he uttered is not entirely wrong. Two is part of the truth—half of four. I can acknowledge the correctness of the answer, but I will not admire or glorify the one who gave it. That is the danger when we confuse the message with the messenger.
This is how I reflect on the controversy surrounding Congressman Kiko Barzaga. At only 27 years old, he is one of the youngest members of Congress, a true representative of Generation Z. His is the first generation raised entirely in the digital age, where ideas are shared in seconds, emotions are amplified online, and mistakes can go viral before they are corrected. Like many of his peers, Barzaga is hyper on social media—quick to post, unfiltered, and passionate. He is still at the stage of life where young people crave validation, where living a life online is as real as living it offline. In that sense, he is not much different from the millions of Filipino Gen Zs scrolling, posting, and reacting every day. The difference is that his words carry the weight of an elected official.
And here is where the generational clash begins. Barzaga’s style of expression—the hashtags, the footnotes, the directness—reflects the voice of his generation. But the political establishment he challenges is rooted in traditions of caution, hierarchy, and measured decorum. His firebrand posts may be impulsive, but they also resonate with the impatience of the youth toward corruption, hypocrisy, and double standards. Instead of engaging with his points, however, his critics are quick to dismiss him, branding him as unstable or unfit. It is easier to label him mad than to grapple with the uncomfortable truths embedded in his grievances.
But let us not forget: Rodrigo Duterte openly cursed God, mocked the Church, cracked sexist jokes, and hurled insults at institutions both foreign and domestic. Rarely was his mental health questioned; instead, his vulgarity was excused as authenticity. Vice President Sara Duterte, too, has spoken in ways that no leader should. She has cursed in public and even declared that she had already spoken to an assassin who would target President Bongbong Marcos, the First Lady, and Speaker Martin Romualdez in the event of her death. Such words are not mere slips of the tongue—they are chilling, reckless statements from the second highest official in the land. Yet, where were the loud calls questioning her sanity? Why was she not judged by the same harsh standard now applied to Barzaga?
And what of the congressmen who, during the QUADCOM meeting, ganged up on Marcoleta—mocking him, badgering him, stripping the chamber of the respect it deserves? Was there outrage about their fitness to serve, or calls for psychiatric evaluation? None. Instead, such actions were shrugged off as political drama, part of the spectacle of Congress.
Worse still, the list of questionable behaviors by public officials is endless. Some live in mansions and drive luxury cars far beyond their salaries, while corruption cases are swept under the rug. Others are chronic absentees in sessions, yet never fail to collect their paychecks, padded by “ghost employees.” Nepotism flourishes in dynasties that treat public office as a family business. Vote-buying and cheating poison every election, yet those guilty lecture about democracy. Some officials are accused of sexual harassment, others gamble away millions in casinos or get drunk at official functions. Still others plagiarize speeches and theses, or abuse their staff in moments of arrogance. We’ve seen lawmakers red-tag activists without evidence, abuse pork barrel funds for kickbacks, or junket abroad at taxpayer expense. Many grandstand in hearings, bullying witnesses for TV mileage, or shamelessly switch parties whenever power shifts, betraying the voters who once trusted them. And yet through all this, no one dares call them insane.
I do not defend every word Barzaga has uttered—youth is no excuse for irresponsibility. But I also cannot accept the hypocrisy of judging him more harshly than those who occupy higher offices or carry longer tenures. If we tolerated Duterte’s daily vulgarities, if we remain silent when Sara Duterte makes chilling statements about assassins, if we excuse lawmakers who bully colleagues in QUADCOM, and if we turn a blind eye to the corruption, arrogance, and abuse of countless officials, then why do we leap so quickly to label a 27-year-old Gen Z congressman as insane simply because he is loud on social media?
This is where the lesson of the parable returns. I may believe in a correct answer, but I will not worship the one who gave it. Likewise, I may recognize that Barzaga, in his youthful fervor, sometimes stumbles upon truths in his grievances. But I will not mistake those truths as proof of greatness. At the same time, I will not condemn him as unfit simply because he expresses himself like a Gen Z navigating the intersection of youth and public office. Accountability must be grounded in conduct, not in weaponized assumptions about mental health.
The deeper issue is not Barzaga’s age or even his mental state—it is our nation’s consistency. Our politics is sick not because one congressman posts recklessly, but because we apply different rules depending on who is speaking. We forgive vulgarity in the old because it entertains us, we excuse recklessness in the powerful because it serves our politics, but we condemn dissent in the young because it unsettles us. We celebrate a president who cursed God, a vice president who spoke casually about assassination, congressmen who bully colleagues in QUADCOM, and officials who enrich themselves while preaching reform—yet we mock a young lawmaker who cites footnotes. The real question is not whether Kiko Barzaga is sane, but whether we, as a people, are fair.
In the end, mental health must never be reduced to a political insult. Leaders—old or young—must be judged by their words, their deeds, and their impact on the people. Duterte’s vulgarity, Sara Duterte’s chilling remarks, the bullies of QUADCOM, the corrupt and arrogant, and Barzaga’s fiery grievances are all subject to scrutiny, but the rules of judgment must be the same. For if we excuse one and condemn the other based on nothing but politics, then the illness we must confront is not in them, but in ourselves.
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