*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
I have long said it: the time has come for President Bongbong Marcos to carry out a major cabinet revamp. In a nation of more than 112 million souls, there are countless Filipinos—patriotic, competent, and selfless—who can breathe life into our weary government. Alongside this, there must be a Constitutional Convention to repair the broken 1987 Constitution that has shackled our democracy for decades. For truly, the rot is not just in men, but in the system itself.
But if this cannot be done, then let us speak of the last recourse—the most painful yet the most cleansing: a snap election. Other nations, when their governments lost the trust of the people, returned to the sovereign will. Their leaders, instead of clinging to their thrones, had the humility to ask the people once more for a mandate. Why not here? Why not now?
And so when I heard Senator Alan Peter Cayetano speak of the same—calling for everyone from the President to congressmen to resign—I was struck. Had he read the very words I had written before in my article entitled “Why Reform Must Come First, When Snap Election Becomes Necessary”? But alas, the senator’s call is empty unless it comes with sacrifice. If Alan Peter Cayetano truly believes, then let him be the first to step down. Let him say to his countrymen: “I resign, because I want you to have a fresh start.” Such an act would echo across history, stirring admiration in the hearts of Filipinos, shaming those who cling to power like barnacles to a sinking ship.
Because what this nation needs is not more speeches. We have been drowned in words. What we need is a living example. The people will ask: if Alan Peter Cayetano can resign, why not the others? Why not the senators? Why not the congressmen? Why not even the governors and mayors?
And yet, the people tremble with another fear. What if a snap election is called, and it is the same Commission on Elections (COMELEC) that presides over it? Can we trust an institution so stained by suspicion? The wounds of mistrust run deep. Unless a new commission—untainted and credible—is formed, the snap election may only repeat the cycle of betrayal. The will of the people cannot be restored by the same hands that have long been doubted.
This urgency is not mere rhetoric. It is life and death for our democracy. The people no longer respect the government. They no longer trust it. What reigns now is an information war—a war of narratives, lies, and half-truths that has torn the very fabric of our nation. And how do you end a war? By returning to the people, by allowing the democratic process to heal. A new mandate is the only path to peace.
We must end the endless tug-of-war between the Dutertes and the Marcoses. The Philippines does not belong to two families. It belongs to every patriot, every farmer, every worker, every teacher, every soldier, every child who dreams of a better tomorrow. It belongs to those good senators who still dream of nationhood, those faithful congressmen who still love their duty, and those local officials—governors, mayors—who labor quietly, devoted to their people. But the system, cruel and unyielding, has locked them out of true leadership.
Worse, the people’s anger is not an imagination. Just look at the hundreds of billions stolen through corruption in flood control projects alone. And this is just one sector. Behind closed doors, there are still other whistleblowers waiting for their chance to speak—ready to reveal the rot in other departments, other government agencies, and even in the Local Government Units. The cancer of corruption is not isolated. It is systemic, sprawling, and unrelenting. And unless the system itself is rebuilt, the theft of the people’s wealth will never end.
A new mandate would be more than a “Bagong Pilipinas.” It would be a rebirth of the soul of the nation. Not a slogan. Not a brand. A genuine awakening of citizenship, a democratic revolution carried not by politicians, but by the citizenry. A voice no oligarch can silence, a fire no dynasty can contain.
But for this dream to breathe, there must be a leader willing to bleed first. Who will sacrifice? Who will dare to resign not for power, but for country? Senator Alan Peter Cayetano can. He can be the first to fall on his sword, not as a defeat, but as a gift to the people. If he steps forward, others will follow. If he retreats, his words are nothing but trapo politics—posturing, branding, politicizing, while the nation sinks deeper into despair.
And still, another warning: without a law of transition, mass resignation is but chaos. Without a plan for who will govern while all step down, we invite a storm without anchor. This is why a transitional law is necessary—to designate caretakers, perhaps from the judiciary, or a consensus chosen by the people, to guide the nation between endings and beginnings. Without such a framework, what is meant to save us could instead destroy us.
Look around, not at the glossy surveys of the media, but at the eyes of your neighbors in the provinces, in the barrios, in the cities: you will see disappointment, anger, exhaustion. They are tired of corruption. They are weary of billions and trillions stolen by the few. They are sick of a system that breeds only problems, never solutions. And unless this cycle ends, our children will inherit only misery.
That is why the cry for a snap election is not politics—it is a plea of the people’s soul. It is a cry to love this country more than oneself, to unite rather than divide, to build rather than destroy. It is a call to leaders: prove your patriotism not in words but in resignation, not in slogans but in sacrifice.
For only then—when the old system is shed like a dying skin,
when the people themselves are allowed to choose again—can we see a great
nation rise from its ruins. Only then will the Philippines breathe anew.
