*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DES, DM
I remember that afternoon, February 22, 2014, at the University of the Philippines as if it were suspended between memory and meaning, one of those rare moments when ideas do not simply pass through you but stay, linger, and quietly reshape how you see the world. I was there as a guest speaker, sharing the platform with former Senator Eddie Ilarde, and the atmosphere was one of thoughtful engagement rather than spectacle. My topic was “Maharlikism: Consciousness and Counter-Consciousness as Determinants of Nationalism and Patriotism,” a discourse on how nations are not merely products of history, but of how they interpret, accept, and sometimes resist that history. I carried with me not only my academic perspective but also a personal milestone, having just been conferred the title of Datuk by the Royal Sultanate of Sabah and Sulu, reflecting on identity not just as theory, but as something lived, inherited, and continuously negotiated.
Beside me, Senator Ilarde spoke with clarity and conviction on the need to change the name of the Philippines to Maharlika. At that time, it felt like an idea that belonged more to possibility than to policy, something that could inspire thought but perhaps not immediate action. Yet as I listened, I realized that what he was proposing was not merely a legislative adjustment. It was a challenge to the very consciousness I was discussing. It was an invitation to move from an identity that is inherited toward one that is deliberately chosen.
And so, over the years, I have returned to that moment, asking a question that continues to echo. What if, in an alternate universe, that proposal did not end as a discussion within the halls of UP? What if it moved forward, was debated with urgency, and ultimately signed into law under Ferdinand Marcos? What if the Philippines, as we know it, not only changed its name but transformed its system, its structure, and its direction?
In that alternate universe, the nation became Maharlika, and with that transformation came not just a new name, but a new form of governance. The country shifted into a Federal Republic composed of the Federal States of Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao, with Manila serving as the capital estate guiding national coordination. Governance was no longer distant, no longer centralized in a way that created imbalance but was brought closer to the people, localized, responsive, and accountable.
In Luzon, development accelerated in a way that balanced both tradition and modernity. The northern corridors strengthened agriculture and energy production, while Central Luzon became a powerhouse of logistics and industrial activity. Southern Luzon, anchored by CALABARZON and Bicol, expanded manufacturing and regional connectivity, linking growth areas to the capital estate. Luzon was no longer simply the dominant region by default, but a structured economic engine aligned with national direction and federal coordination.
In the Visayas, the transformation was equally profound. Long seen as the geographic heart of the archipelago, the Visayas became the connective tissue of the federal republic. Inter-island infrastructure improved dramatically, ports became more efficient, and tourism evolved into a sustainable industry rather than a seasonal economy. Cebu, Iloilo, and other key cities emerged not just as regional hubs, but as centers of commerce, education, and innovation. The Visayas, in this alternate universe, became a model of balanced growth and cultural integration, where economic progress did not erase identity but strengthened it.
And then there was Mindanao, whose story perhaps changed the most. With the establishment of the Federal State of Mindanao, governance became immediate and relevant to its people. Investment flowed into agriculture, mining, and energy sectors, transforming the region into a critical pillar of national development. The long-standing issues that once fueled insurgency gradually disappeared, not because they were silenced, but because they were addressed at their roots. Opportunity replaced neglect, inclusion replaced marginalization, and peace emerged not as a declaration, but as a lived reality. There were no longer the shadows of insurgency in the countryside, no lingering narratives of exclusion, only a region moving forward with confidence as part of the federal whole.
At the center of all these was Manila, the capital estate of the Federal Republic of Maharlika. But in this alternate universe, Manila was no longer the overburdened center of everything. Instead, it became a true coordinating capital, a seat of governance that guided national direction without suffocating regional growth. Infrastructure in Manila was modernized, urban planning became more disciplined, and its role shifted from concentration to coordination. It became the symbolic and administrative heart of Maharlika, not by dominance, but by design.
Across the entire Federal Republic of Maharlika, the pattern was clear. Economic stability led to social stability. With opportunities distributed more widely, the hold of entrenched political dynasties began to weaken. Leadership became more competitive, more open, and more grounded in performance rather than inheritance. Governance became less about control and more about service, less about entitlement and more about accountability.
And through all these changes, the name took on a life of its own. Maharlika, as history reminds us, was not originally a kingdom but a class, a group of freemen and warriors bound by duty and responsibility. Yet in this alternate universe, it was not adopted as a claim of past greatness, but as a standard for present conduct. The Laguna Copperplate Inscription became a symbol of continuity, reminding the people that long before colonization, there was already law, governance, and structure in this land.
We were no longer Filipinos, a name historically tied to Philip II of Spain. We became Maharlikans, Maharlikano and Maharlikana, defined not by what was given to us, but by what we chose to become.
As I reflect on this imagined transformation, I am reminded that nations across history have reshaped themselves through deliberate choices of identity. Thailand, Sri Lanka, Myanmar, Zimbabwe, Iran, Eswatini, and Democratic Republic of the Congo all made decisions to redefine how they saw themselves and how the world would see them.
And perhaps that is where everything comes full circle, back to that afternoon in UP, where two ideas met on one stage. Senator Ilarde spoke of the need to change the name of the nation. I spoke of consciousness and counter-consciousness as determinants of nationalism and patriotism. In that alternate universe, those two ideas converged, and the result was a nation that chose to define itself not only by what it inherited, but by what it aspired to become.
In this reality, we remain the Philippines, a name shaped by history and given meaning by generations who have endured and built a nation despite its challenges. But in that alternate universe, we became Maharlika, and in doing so, we discovered that the true transformation of a nation does not begin with a name alone, but with the courage to align that name with systems that deliver progress, equity, and dignity.
#DJOT
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