* Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
In our current political climate, labels have become weapons. They are used not to describe but to discredit, not to clarify but to confine. A person’s beliefs are often reduced to caricatures: If you defend free speech for yourself but deny it to your opponents, you are branded a Dilawan. If you cling to your positions so tightly that no evidence can sway you, you are dismissed as a DDS. If you argue that the state should punish those who dare hold contrary views, then you are stamped as a Marcos loyalist. And if you believe that government officials involved in corruption deserve violence or death rather than due process, society casts you as a terrorist.
These are not just words. These labels reveal how far we have drifted from the real essence of democracy. Instead of meaningful debates, we drown in name-calling. Instead of solving problems, we are busy identifying enemies. This culture of branding reduces our people into factions, and every Filipino becomes either an ally or an adversary.
But we must be cautious of where this road leads. I fear the situation when our people may be tempted to follow the Nepal model of change—where frustration turned into rage, and rage into violence. In that revolt, government officials were killed without due process, treated not as human beings but as enemies to be eliminated. State properties were burned, not as a symbol of freedom but as an act of destruction. Such paths may feel like justice in the moment, but they are not constructive; they are imitations of terrorism dressed as revolution.
Violence cannot be the answer. To kill a corrupt official without trial is to imitate the very lawlessness we despise. To burn property is to reduce the fruits of our people’s labor to ashes. In the end, these acts do not heal the nation—they only leave scars that divide us further.
But I also know that prayers alone cannot heal our nation. Faith gives us strength, but it must be matched with action. We must move forward, not through violence, but through constructive protest and disciplined militancy. History has shown us many ways to make corrupt leaders step down without bloodshed. We can hold prayer vigils that remind us of our conscience. We can take part in civil disobedience that resists injustice without resorting to brutality. We can push people’s initiatives to change the very constitution that has been abused by the powerful. If such acts are carried forward and yet ignored, then comes the time when unity is no longer divided, when love for change is pushed to its fullest, when hate for corruption fuels courage, and when building what was destroyed by the corrupt becomes the sacred duty of a gathered people. This is the moment when Timpuyog Pilipinas—as a true gathering of men and women for a good cause—will lead the unifying revolutionary action that our nation deserves.
This is why I return again and again to the spirit of timpuyog. It is not only about unity but also about the gathering of men and women for a good cause. It is the collective spirit that transforms frustration into constructive action, and anger into organized reform. It is the belief that true change is not about destroying what exists but about building something better together. We must remind ourselves that it is possible to disagree without destroying, to oppose without dehumanizing. We can stand firm in our convictions without denying others the right to speak.
Unity does not mean uniformity. It does not demand that we erase our political colors, nor that we silence our criticisms. What unity requires is the discipline of love over hate, and the humility to place nation above self. Division thrives on suspicion, but unity grows from respect. Hatred builds walls, but love builds bridges. Destruction leaves nothing behind, but building creates a legacy that outlives us.
If we truly want democracy to flourish, then we must go beyond labels. A Dilawan, a DDS, a Marcos loyalist, a so-called terrorist—these are not the essence of who we are. We are Filipinos. And our nation needs us not as divided camps at war, but as a people united in purpose.
So let us ask ourselves: Can we not simply believe in unity over division, love over hate, and building rather than destroying? That is the challenge of our time. That is the higher calling.
And in the end, we must remember who we are. We are Filipinos—a peace-loving people. We are not defined by our rage but by our resilience. We are not defined by our divisions but by our faith. Our ancestors survived by turning to prayer in the darkest nights, and we too are a nation that bows before our Divine Creator. True strength has never come from violence; it comes from righteousness, compassion, and love.
This is why I say: let us not walk the path of destruction. Let us walk the path of timpuyog—men and women gathered for a good cause, guided by unity, strengthened by peace, and always with reverence for the Divine Creator in our hearts.
For in the quiet prayers of our mothers, in the steadfast courage of our fathers, in the laughter of our children, and in the sacrifices of our heroes, the Filipino spirit is alive. It is gentle but unbreakable, humble but proud, wounded yet always ready to heal. We are one people, bound by history, lifted by faith, and called to rise together.
This is our way—the Filipino way. A way of unity, a way of
love, and a way of constructive revolution that will lead us not to ruin, but
to the nation we have always dreamed to be.
