*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM
I became a fan of interdimensional travel after watching the television series Sliders, which explores multiple universes. There are times when I allow my mind to wander to that other timeline, that alternate universe in which the elections of 2022 were decided differently, while I am sitting by my desk in my home office and drinking hot chocolate. In that world, the people voted not for charisma, not for dynasty, and not for political machinery, but for discipline and dignity. In that world, Panfilo “Ping” Lacson raised his hand as President of the Republic, and Vicente “Tito” Sotto III stood beside him as Vice President—the calm and collected counterpart to the quiet and calculating reformer. I often imagine how the Philippines would look today, and every time, I find myself smiling—not because it would have been perfect, but because it would have been cleaner, calmer, and more honest.
In that parallel universe, the day Lacson took his oath, there was no thunder of grand promises. There was only the solemn voice of a man who had seen how corruption eats from the inside, who had walked through the corridors of the Senate holding a flashlight into the dark corners of the national budget. From the very start, there were no illusions — only the promise of order. The bureaucracy began to move like a disciplined battalion. Paperwork no longer slept on dusty desks. Procurement became traceable, and every centavo spent was accounted for. Gone were the days of ghost projects and padded budgets. People didn’t have to shout on social media to demand accountability because the system itself demanded it.
It wasn’t glamorous, that government. There were no colorful press conferences or dramatic tirades. Instead, there was silence — the kind of silence you get when people are actually working. The agencies, once sluggish, became efficient. The Office of the President stopped being a stage for speeches and became a command center for reform. And when you talked to the people in that alternate Philippines, you would sense pride — quiet, steady pride that comes from knowing your taxes are respected.
Vice President Tito Sotto, on the other hand, was the voice that reached the people’s hearts. He spoke like a friend who explained complex policies in words everyone could understand. He balanced Lacson’s sternness with humor and empathy, making governance relatable again. Instead of political tension, there was calm collaboration between Malacañang and the Senate. The opposition didn’t have to scream to be heard because the administration actually listened. Sotto became the great interpreter between the technocrats and the tricycle drivers, between the policy-makers and the public. Together, they made government sound less like an order and more like a conversation.
Economically, the country in that parallel timeline was not dependent on slogans but on structure. There were no massive dole-outs for temporary applause. Instead, there were real incentives for farmers, local entrepreneurs, and honest public servants. The “Build, Build, Build” program was reborn as “Build with Integrity.” Projects were completed on time because nobody dared pocket public funds under Lacson’s watchful eye. The business community started returning, foreign investors began to trust again, and the peso found stability not through manipulation, but through management. The Philippines, finally, was not the joke of Southeast Asia but the example of fiscal prudence.
Peace and order in that world were not defined by fear. The war on drugs was fought with intelligence, rehabilitation, and community programs. The police were no longer afraid of oversight because they were trained to act with integrity. Human rights and discipline existed together — not as opposites, but as partners. The military and the police worked together under one philosophy: service without corruption. The streets were safer not because of extrajudicial power, but because of restored respect for the law.
In foreign policy, Lacson’s steady hand turned the Philippines into a nation that stood tall without shouting. The West Philippine Sea issue was handled with firmness and respect, backed by intelligence and diplomacy. We neither bowed to Beijing nor clung blindly to Washington. Our Coast Guard was modernized, our military professionalized, and our diplomats empowered. We became a country that negotiated from strength, not desperation.
What made that universe beautiful was not just the leadership, but the moral climate it created. Integrity became fashionable again. There were no Cabinet secretaries flaunting luxury watches or mistresses on social media. There were no power-hungry presidential cousins or public officials behaving like royalty. The people were not afraid of their government, and the government was not ashamed of its people. There was no endless noise, no empty wars of words—only the quiet confidence that comes when competence governs.
I imagine Lacson walking through the corridors of Malacañang without fanfare, just a man doing his job, the same way he combed through the national budget as senator — meticulous, methodical, and incorruptible. And beside him, Tito Sotto, greeting janitors by name, joking with the press, translating the President’s policies into something the masses could understand. Together they represented balance: intellect and empathy, logic and heart, law and laughter.
In that parallel universe, I believe the Philippines was not richer in gold, but richer in dignity. There were fewer scandals, fewer memes, and more respect for facts. The young were inspired to serve, not to scam. The old felt proud to have lived long enough to see government done right. It wasn’t a perfect country, but it was a country with a conscience.
And then I look back at this world, take a deep breath, and whisper to myself — maybe that universe isn’t entirely gone… maybe it’s just waiting for its rightful turn, hidden beneath the rhythm of the deeply flooded events, quietly aligning itself with the law of time and destiny.
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