*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
Every time a new president is elected, the air is filled with hope. People gather in the streets, clapping, waving flags, and convincing themselves that perhaps this leader will be different, perhaps this time the country will finally change for the better. The words spoken in the inaugural address are grand and inspiring, the plans sound bold and transformative, and we allow ourselves to believe.
But I have long noticed a shadow that never leaves Malacañang, no matter who sits in the highest office. It is as if every president inherits it the moment he takes his oath. It is the conspiracy theory that corruption always reaches the top, even when the president himself knows nothing about it. And that is the painful truth: sometimes, it isn’t the president who is corrupt—it is the people around him who use his name like a weapon and a key at the same time.
I imagine the president, seated at his desk, focused on policies, reading reports, or preparing for the next big speech. He may be sincere, he may even be innocent. Yet, outside those walls, others are busy invoking his name. They walk into offices and whisper, “This is what the president wants.” They make phone calls saying, “The Palace expects this.” And suddenly, money begins to flow—not to the president himself, but to the networks of men and women who thrive in his shadow.
The tragedy is that the president often doesn’t know. He goes on believing in his vision, speaking to the people about reforms, trying to project honesty and leadership, while behind his back, his very name is being used to intimidate, to collect, to enrich. It is almost cruel. The man might be unaware, yet when the scandal breaks, when corruption is exposed, the people no longer distinguish between the operators and the leader. They only remember the president, tainted forever by crimes committed in his name.
I think about how heavy that must feel—carrying not only your own mistakes but also the sins of those who claim to be loyal to you. History does not remember the faceless fixer, the greedy aide, the ambitious ally. It remembers only the presidency. And so every president, no matter how honest he may be, ends up shouldering a burden he did not always deserve.
It is a cycle that repeats itself from one administration to another. Relatives, trusted aides, political allies—figures close to power—have always been accused of taking advantage. The president may not be complicit, but he becomes the perfect shield: too busy, too trusting, too insulated. And those who truly manipulate power thrive under the cover of his name.
What makes it worse is that the people often allow it. We hear the stories, we witness the excesses, but we brush them off as if they are just part of politics. In doing so, we unknowingly strengthen the conspiracy, until it grows so bold it no longer bothers to hide. And when everything finally collapses into scandal, we point our fingers at the man in Malacañang, not realizing that he too may have been a victim of those who used him.
If there is a lesson here, it is that we cannot simply trust names or positions. We must demand transparency, not just from the president but from everyone who surrounds him. We must not believe so easily when someone claims, “This is what the president wants,” without proof, without accountability. Because if we do, then we become complicit in the very conspiracy we complain about.
I sometimes wonder: what if unity, instead of blind loyalty, defined our politics? What if citizens worked together to strip away the shadows, to expose the men who exploit power, to protect even the president himself from being used? Maybe then, the conspiracy would lose its grip. Maybe then, every new administration would not have to begin with hope only to end in suspicion.
And so I say this with both sadness and resolve: corruption
will always find its way near the top, not necessarily through the president’s
own doing, but through the misuse of his name by those who stand closest to
him. The greatest enemy of a leader is often not the rival across the aisle,
but the so-called ally at his side—the confidant who says, “The president wants
this,” when in truth, the president knows nothing at all.
