*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
It began as a simple conversation—one that moved me more deeply than any press statement or political hearing. Last week, while having a massage from a blind masseur at a mall in Farmers Cubao, I was humbled not by his touch but by his words.
Between calm strokes and quiet breaths, he said softly, “Sir, kung lahat po ng matataas sa gobyerno ay hindi muna kukuha ng sweldo nila, baka umunlad na tayo.”
He said it without anger, only truth—the kind of truth that comes from hardship. I was stunned by how a blind man could see more clearly the real state of our nation, while many who possess perfect vision remain blind to corruption. He knew about the Flood Control Scandal, where trillions of pesos were lost through ghost projects, fabricated contracts, and kickbacks—and he understood that when greed becomes normal, poverty becomes permanent.
It struck me deeply: while some cannot see with their eyes, others choose not to see with their conscience.
His words lingered in me long after I left the mall. “Who among them will take the first step?” he had asked—not as a complaint, but as a quiet challenge to the nation’s conscience.
History has shown that there were leaders who went first. José “Pepe” Mujica of Uruguay donated 90% of his salary to charity, choosing simplicity over status. Mahatma Gandhi refused material comfort and lived as one with the poor. And President Manuel L. Quezon, during World War II, gave up much of his salary to aid Filipino soldiers and their families.
Here in our time, Senate President Tito Sotto has shown that compassion and integrity can coexist in politics. For years, he has diverted his salary to fund scholarships for deserving students—quietly, consistently, and without fanfare. His example proves that leadership can exist without luxury and that public office can still be a place for grace rather than greed.
As for me, I see the blind man’s suggestion as something difficult to realize in its entirety. Not everyone in public service is rich, and not all can afford to give up their pay. But if this act is voluntary, the wealthy—those who live in comfort and abundance—should be the first to do it. And when the SALN (Statement of Assets, Liabilities, and Net Worth) becomes public again, the people will see clearly who among them chose to share and who among them chose to keep.
And honestly, if SP Tito Sotto is capable of doing it, why cannot others who are even more affluent than he is? It is not a matter of ability—it is a matter of heart. The willingness to give up one’s salary is not about proving wealth; it is about proving empathy.
This is due to the power of symbolism. When a leader voluntarily chooses conscience over compensation, it sends a message stronger than any law: “I serve not to gain, but to give.”
I recall the late Senator Rene Saguisag, one of the finest examples of humility in office. There was a time he would take a taxi to attend Senate sessions, unbothered by how it looked. He did not need luxury to prove his worth; he only needed integrity.
Then there's the Flood Control Scandal, a scandal that continues to pierce our nation's spirit. The scandal has resulted in the loss of trillions of pesos, money that could have been used to construct hospitals, schools, and homes for flood victims. While citizens drown in debt, corruption floats freely. It is a tragic irony that a blind masseur in Cubao sees this injustice more vividly than those seated in air-conditioned offices.
The problem, truly, is not a lack of money—it is a lack of conscience.
Imagine if those serving under President Marcos Jr.—from senators to secretaries, from undersecretaries to directors—chose voluntarily to follow that call. Imagine if even a few among them waived a month’s pay or donated it to relief programs or scholarships. The gesture alone would revive trust and remind people that leadership still carries a heart.
Public service was never meant to be profitable. The real wealth of a servant-leader lies not in salary, but in the peace of knowing one has lived for others.
And as the nation continues to face rising inflation, natural disasters, and a flood of disillusionment, small voluntary acts of humility from those in power can spark a larger moral awakening. When those with the means to give decide to do so, it restores the balance between privilege and purpose.
Perhaps that blind man’s words were not mere small talk but revelation—a divine whisper through a man who cannot see the world yet understands it far better than many who rule it.
Ultimately, leadership is not solely about earning, but also about the sacrifices made. It is not about comfort but conscience. And if there ever comes a day when Philippine leaders, from top to bottom, voluntarily choose to sacrifice their earnings to lift their nation in crisis — then perhaps we will finally see the dawn of what true public service was always meant to be: service not for gain, but for grace.
Author’s Note:
I write this not to accuse, but to awaken. For corruption, like the floods it breeds, does not only destroy infrastructure—it erodes trust, integrity, and the moral foundation of governance. When greed becomes a habit, the soul of a nation drowns in silence. But when humility becomes voluntary and contagious—as shown by leaders like SP Tito Sotto and the wisdom of a blind man who sees truth—the tide of hope begins to rise again.
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