*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM
There was a morning when I scrolled through social media and saw once again the name Larry Gadon trending. As usual, people were divided—some laughing, others cursing, and a few quietly nodding in agreement but afraid to say so aloud. I found myself staring at the screen, thinking: why does this man stir so much emotion in us? Why does his anger, his loudness, even his profanity, reflect something deeply buried in the Filipino psyche?
When people hear the name Larry Gadon, they immediately think of the word “bobo.” Ironically, he is despised for calling others stupid—yet what he actually despises is stupidity itself. In a nation struggling between apathy and awakening, Gadon stands as that one voice willing to shout what the rest of us only whisper. We may not always agree with his words, but we cannot deny that his courage exposes a truth about our society: that we have grown afraid to speak.
As an educator and political analyst, I have seen how silence breeds corruption, and how fear allows falsehoods to thrive. There are truths that never make it to the classroom or the newsroom because they are too controversial, too “uncomfortable,” or too politically incorrect. And then comes Larry Gadon—breaking that silence, crossing lines, and saying what most Filipinos dare not say. It is easy to label him rude or arrogant, but behind his roughness lies a man unafraid to confront hypocrisy.
I often tell my students that courage does not always come dressed in eloquence or diplomacy. Sometimes, courage comes wrapped in profanity. Gadon’s words, harsh as they may sound, resonate with a kind of raw honesty that this country often lacks. He says what millions feel but cannot utter for fear of cyberbullying, ridicule, or professional backlash. Yet, Gadon seems immune to all that. He eats cyberbullying for breakfast, laughs at insults, and carries on as if the whole nation’s judgment were just noise.
I am not saying we should emulate his manner of speech. What I am saying is that society needs people like him—those who disturb our comfort zones, challenge our tolerance for stupidity, and remind us that democracy thrives not in uniformity but in fearless diversity. Every generation has its provocateur: someone misunderstood, often mocked, but necessary for the times.
Gadon’s disbarment is not merely a punishment—it is a statement about how uncomfortable truth-tellers can be. The establishment often silences those who are too loud, too blunt, or too fearless. But in doing so, they forget that even in his defiance, Gadon has become a mirror of what the Filipino soul longs for: freedom to speak without fear, courage to call out wrongs, and the audacity to challenge the powerful.
To some, he is a villain; to others, a folk hero. For me, he is a necessary character in this chaotic theater we call the Philippine Republic. Because when the refined refuse to speak, the rough will rise to do it. When the educated grow timid, the passionate will roar. And in that roar—sometimes messy, sometimes vulgar—lies the unfiltered voice of a nation yearning to be heard.
Yes, Larry Gadon may not fit the mold of a saint or a scholar. But he is, in his own unorthodox way, a reminder that silence is not always golden. In times when truth trembles, sometimes what we need is not politeness—but a man unafraid to shout, “Bobo ka!” if only to wake a sleeping nation.
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