*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM
I woke up this morning to the familiar, heavy hum of a
Manila Monday—the distant roar of the MRT, the smell of burnt coffee, and that
persistent, nagging feeling every Filipino carries like a second skin: skepticism.
It is January 2026. As I sit in this small café in Quezon City, watching the
monsoon rain blur the window, I realize we are standing at a precipice. The
clock toward 2028 is no longer just ticking; it is pounding. For President
Bongbong Marcos, these next two years aren't just the home stretch of a term;
they are the final window to prove that Bagong Pilipinas is a structural
reality, not just a branding exercise.
I do not look at this landscape merely as a concerned
citizen, but through the specific lens of my life’s work. As a Multi-Disciplinary
Doctor in Management, an educator in Organizational Development, and
a Professor of Doctrine Development, I have spent decades dissecting how
institutions fail and how they function. I know that culture eats strategy for
breakfast, and nowhere is that truer than in the Philippine government. We have
been promised "new eras" so often that we’ve become experts at
spotting the rust beneath the fresh paint. But as I watch this administration
enter its twilight years, I see something different—a shift in doctrine that
suggests the President finally understands that to save his name, he must
dismantle the very machine that many assumed would be his greatest shield.
The Ghost in the Room
Let’s be honest: for PBBM, this isn't just about governance. It’s personal. Every time a headline about a multimillion-peso "intelligence fund" or a "ghost bridge" pops up, it’s not just a policy failure; it’s a ghost from his family’s past knocking on the door. I saw him in a briefing recently. He looked... tired. Not the "I need a vacation" tired, but the "I’m realizing how deep the rot goes" tired. There’s a human element to a man trying to outrun a shadow. He knows that if he exits in 2028 and the same old hands are still in the same old pockets, his presidency will be dismissed as a mere intermission. To suppress corruption, he has to be the one to break the machine his own circle helped maintain. From an organizational behavior perspective, he is attempting the most difficult maneuver in leadership: changing the culture of the organization while the organization fights back.
When the "Untouchables" Touched the Ground
The narrative changed for me in late 2025. We all remember
the "Baha sa Luneta" protests and the "Trillion Peso
March"—half a million people standing in the rain, not for a political
party, but because ₱500 billion in flood control funds had seemingly vanished.
Historically, a leader would retreat into rhetoric. Instead,
we saw a doctrinal shift. The establishment of the Independent Commission for
Infrastructure (ICI) under Executive Order 94 felt like a rupture. When the axe
fell on "big fish" contractors and even high-ranking cabinet allies,
the air in the coffee shops shifted. It wasn't just "politics as
usual" anymore. Seeing the President sign the ₱6.79-trillion 2026 budget
with explicit "corruption guardrails" was a moment of cautious,
heart-pounding hope. As a Doctrine Development Professor, I see this not just
as enforcement, but as the rewriting of the rules of engagement in good governance—establishing
that political proximity no longer guarantees immunity.
Killing the "Lagay" Culture via Smartphone
For me, the real victory isn't in the courtrooms; it’s on my
phone. I used to keep a "buffer" of extra cash in my wallet whenever
I had to deal with a government office—you know, for the "fixer" or
the "facilitation fee." Today, the eGovPH Super App has
changed the game.
- The "Middleman" is Dead: With over 18 million of us now using the app, the "fixer" at the gate is starving. You can’t bribe a digital ledger. In management theory, we call this "disintermediation"—removing the human layer where value is extracted and corruption breeds.
- Real-Time Accountability: I used the Sumbong sa Pangulo portal last month to flag a road project in a certain barangay that had been "under construction" for three years. Two weeks later, a verification team was on-site. That kind of responsiveness used to be a myth.
The Loneliest Path to 2028
As the 2028 elections loom, PBBM is entering the most
dangerous phase of his term. He is pushing for a scaled-down Anti-Dynasty Law—a
move that sounds like political suicide for a man from a dynasty. But looking
at this through my background in Organizational Development, I see it for what
it is: a structural intervention against the "local fiefdoms" that
bleed our national budget dry.
"Suppression isn't a one-time event; it’s a chokehold
on a system that is used to breathing easy."
He is betting his entire legacy on the idea that he can be
the one to finally say, "Mahiya naman kayo" (Have some shame),
and actually mean it. He’s letting the axe fall even when it hits close to
home, and that is a lonely, necessary path. He is dismantling the informal
power structures that have defined our politics for generations.
My Verdict
I’m still a skeptic. It’s in my DNA as a Filipino. But as I
finish my coffee and head back into the Manila rain, I feel a shift. I don't
think corruption will be "dead" by 2028—that is a fairy tale for the
naive. Corruption in our islands is an ecosystem, a living thing that adapts.
But what I do see is a concerted effort to suppress it. It is being
pushed into the dark corners where it is harder to breathe, replaced by digital
walls and independent audits.
If PBBM stays this course, he won’t just have cleaned the
government; he’ll have redesigned it. And for the first time in a long time, I
think we might be building something that won't just wash away in the next
monsoon. As a Doctor in Management, my diagnosis is clear: the patient is still
critical, but for the first time in decades, the treatment is actually
attacking the disease, not just the symptoms.
