*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM
In 1987, I was only a first-year pre-dentistry student at the University of the East, Manila. I was young and idealistic, still discovering the power of ideas and the weight of words. Yet I was not silent. I was the youngest member of our university debating circle, standing beside seasoned and mature teammates who were respected senior university debaters. They were sharper, more experienced, and more confident. I was the youngest in the room, for I am also mistaken for a high school student. But I was there. And together, we took a position that was not popular in that historic moment. We opposed the ratification of the 1987 Philippine Constitution.
We were not opposing democracy. We were not longing for dictatorship. We were asking structural questions. We scrutinized provisions. We examined the economic restrictions. We debated the wisdom of retaining the unitary presidential system that had already shaped decades of centralized governance. We asked whether fear was silently writing parts of the Constitution. History, however, was not waiting for freshmen debaters.
Corazon Aquino had just assumed office after the EDSA People Power Revolution. The nation was fragile. The revolutionary government needed legitimacy. Stability was the immediate objective. Fear of regression hovered over every conversation. That was when I first encountered the phrase "critical, yes."
Many who saw defects still voted yes. They acknowledged weaknesses but approved the document. They chose order over uncertainty. According to Juan Ponce Enrile, if the Constitution had been rejected in the February 1987 plebiscite, President Aquino would be compelled to call for a snap election. Imagine the tension of that moment. A revolutionary government without a ratified constitutional foundation. Political instability reopening. Fidel V. Ramos and others strongly advocated constitutional normalization because the alternative seemed too risky.
And so the people voted yes. They voted out of survival. They voted out of fear of chaos. They voted to stabilize a wounded Republic. But what was meant to be a critical yes slowly became passive endurance.
Today, decades later, I look back not as that freshman, but as a citizen who has witnessed administrations rise and fall, promises proclaimed and abandoned, and policies initiated and discontinued. And I must say this with conviction. Tragically, we have put ourselves in a psychological cage of the unitary presidential system, which no longer works.
The critical yes of 1987 was never meant to be permanent silence. It was a temporary compromise under extraordinary circumstances. Yet for nearly four decades, we have treated the Constitution as untouchable. We defend it reflexively. We fear amendment as if reform were betrayal.
Since 1987, we have elected countless batches of Congress. In both chambers, there has consistently been a Committee on Constitutional Amendments or Constitutional Revision. Every Congress organizes it. Every budget allocates funds for it. Hearings are conducted. Discussions are televised. Proposals are floated.
Yet after decades, no meaningful structural reform has emerged. So I ask you plainly, what is the purpose of maintaining these committees if they never complete the task? Are we preserving reform or preserving comfort? Are we serious about revisiting structural defects, or merely performing the ritual of discussion?
Meanwhile, the same patterns persist. Every six years, the nation resets. Policies are interrupted. Development plans lose continuity. Governance remains personality driven rather than institution anchored. Executive power remains heavily centralized in a geographically fragmented archipelago. Elections become existential battles instead of orderly transitions. We continue blaming individuals while ignoring the framework that shapes them.
When I read that Senate President Tito Sotto was advocating for constitutional reform or revision, I felt awakened. I felt that perhaps the "critical yes" of 1987 could finally be practiced in its true spirit. Those defects that were acknowledged yet postponed could finally be corrected.
Because the real issue in 1987 was not merely the Constitution itself. It was the condition of the people and the fragility of the moment. Many citizens did not even fully examine the constitutional framework they voted on. They voted yes out of survival, out of urgency, and out of fear that rejection would plunge the nation into instability.
A constitution approved primarily out of survival and not fully understood by the people must eventually be revisited out of wisdom. From 1987 to 2026, nearly four decades have passed. Entire generations have grown up under this framework. The world has changed. Governance demands have changed. Economic competition has intensified. Institutional expectations have matured. Yet our constitutional architecture remains largely frozen.
We do not need to wait another decade. We must act now. Amend specific provisions if they are outdated. Recalibrate structural imbalances if they hinder institutional stability. And if serious national deliberation concludes that incremental amendments are insufficient, then even consider comprehensive redesign.
Because what we experience today are the recurring chaos, the policy discontinuity, the instability, the frustrations of daily governance, and the structural inefficiencies that touch your everyday life; these are not purely accidents of personality. They are consequences of design. Passive endurance must end!
We cannot keep forming committees that never complete reform. We cannot keep funding discussions that never result in decisive action. We cannot keep defending a framework simply because it once served a fragile moment in history. To amend the Constitution is not to dishonor 1987. It is to complete its unfinished promise. It is to transform a document born in fear into a structure strengthened by reflection. It is to move from survival to strategy.
And if we do not change our Constitution now, if we continue postponing reform, then every DDS, every Kakampink, and every Tulfonatic will wake up tomorrow facing the same daily frustrations. The same traffic that never improves. The same bureaucratic delays. The same unstable policies. The same political noise. The same cycle of hope and disappointment every election. The same structural problems passed from one administration to another.
The Constitution is not an abstract legal manuscript. It shapes the life of the ordinary Filipino. It affects the worker who leaves home before sunrise. It affects the small entrepreneur navigating regulations. It affects the student dreaming of opportunity. It affects families trying to survive inflation and instability.
If we refuse to correct the design, then the suffering becomes predictable. And predictable suffering is no longer accidental. It is tolerated. This is the end of passive endurance. The Republic deserves not only a Constitution that once saved it, but a Constitution that can now sustain it. And sustaining it requires courage. Courage to review. Courage to amend. Courage to evolve.
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