*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM
A few evenings ago, after finishing another article about Philippine politics, I found myself staring at my computer screen long after I had stopped typing. The cursor continued blinking, but my thoughts had wandered somewhere else.
I asked myself a question that I had never seriously asked before.
“Why do I keep writing?”
I have no government office.
I do not sit inside Malacañang.
I am not among those who attend Cabinet meetings.
I am not one of those whispering advice into the ears of the President before important decisions are made.
Most of the ideas I write may never reach the people who actually shape national policy. Yet every morning, I still wake up thinking about the Philippines. Every evening, I still find myself writing another article, another proposal, another reflection, hoping that somehow, somewhere, one good idea might eventually reach the right person.
Then it finally occurred to me.
Perhaps I have been living my life as a hopeless hopeful.
Hopeful enough to believe that this country can still become better.
Hopeless enough to know that I may never become part of the circle where those changes are actually made.
The more I reflected on those words, the more I realized that this paradox does not only describe my personal journey. It also describes how I look at nation-building.
Just like in relationships, there are moments when the person standing before you is not exactly the one you dreamed of. Hindi siya ang ideal. Hindi siya ang hiniling mo. Minsan kulang ang kakayahan. Minsan nagkakamali. Minsan napapalibutan pa siya ng mga maling tao. Yet despite all those imperfections, you still choose to stay. You still choose to help. You still choose to believe that somehow things can still become better.
Ganito rin minsan ang tingin ko sa ating bayan.
There are elections where our preferred candidate wins. There are also elections where the people choose someone we personally did not support. Bilang mamamayan, masakit minsan tanggapin ang resulta. We question the decision. We criticize policies. We become frustrated.
Pero pagkatapos ng halalan, another reality begins.
That leader now carries the constitutional mandate entrusted by the Filipino people.
At dito nagsisimula ang pinakamahirap na bahagi ng demokrasya.
Respecting the mandate does not necessarily mean agreeing with every decision. It does not mean becoming blind to mistakes. Hindi ibig sabihin nito na tumigil na tayong magsalita laban sa mali o tumigil na tayong humingi ng accountability. On the contrary, constructive criticism is one of democracy’s greatest strengths.
But there is also another truth that I have slowly learned through the years.
There are moments in life when we are forced to accept things we do not like. Hindi dahil gusto natin. Hindi dahil sang-ayon tayo. But because, after weighing every possible alternative, we realize that accepting reality may prevent something even worse.
Ganito rin minsan ang nangyayari sa ating bansa.
May mga pagkakataon sa ating kasaysayan na ang lider ng ating pamahalaan ay hindi ang gusto natin. Bilang mamamayan, may karapatan tayong magtanong, bumatikos, at humingi ng accountability. Ngunit pagkatapos ng halalan, kailangan din nating harapin ang isang katotohanan.
The people have spoken.
The Constitution has taken its course.
The President now carries the mandate of the Filipino people.
Personally, I have come to believe that respecting that mandate is not the same as surrendering our principles. It simply means respecting the constitutional process that placed him there.
Because once we abandon constitutional order simply because we dislike the outcome, we weaken the very democracy that protects us all.
History has taught us painful lessons.
Maraming beses na tayong umasa na kapag napalitan ang lider ay automatic na gaganda ang bansa. Ilang ulit na rin tayong naniwala na ang people power, rebolusyon, o extraordinary political change ang magiging sagot sa lahat ng problema.
Unfortunately, history also reminds us that this is not always the case.
Sometimes the replacement becomes even worse.
Sometimes yesterday’s hero becomes tomorrow’s disappointment.
Sometimes revolutions create the very monsters they once promised to defeat.
Kaya minsan napapatanong ako.
If we remove today’s leader, who exactly is prepared to lead tomorrow?
Who possesses not only popularity but also integrity, competence, wisdom, emotional maturity, and the ability to unite a deeply divided nation?
Because removing a government is easy.
Building a better one is the difficult part.
Sometimes I ask myself another difficult question.
Would the alternative truly be better?
Or would it create even greater suffering for our people?
Sometimes the alternative is not reform.
Sometimes the alternative is chaos.
Sometimes the alternative is an extra-constitutional path whose consequences no one can fully control.
History has repeatedly shown us that such paths can unintentionally create leaders far worse than those they replaced.
That is why I continue calling myself a hopeless hopeful.
Not because I have stopped believing in change.
But because I continue believing even when the available choices are less than ideal.
Parang isang relasyon.
May mga pagkakataong alam mong hindi perpekto ang taong kasama mo. Pero alam mo rin na ang alternatibo ay maaaring mas masakit, mas magulo, at mas makakasira hindi lamang sa inyong dalawa kundi pati sa inyong pamilya.
Sometimes the wiser decision is not abandoning the relationship immediately.
Sometimes wisdom means helping that relationship become better.
Ganito rin minsan ang pananaw ko sa pamahalaan.
If many perceive the President as lacking in certain areas, perhaps our first responsibility should not be to wish for his failure, but to hope that he is surrounded by wiser, more competent, and more ethical people.
Personally, I have come to believe that the greatest danger is not always the leader himself.
Sometimes it is the people around him.
The advisers.
The political operators.
The corrupt officials who abuse his trust.
The opportunists who use his authority for personal gain.
Kaya minsan naiisip ko, baka hindi ang lider ang unang dapat nating palitan.
Baka ang mga taong nakapaligid sa kanya.
After all, no President governs alone.
Every administration rises or falls depending on the integrity of those within its circle.
As ordinary Filipinos, we cannot simply walk inside Malacañang and choose who should advise the President. Hindi natin kayang kontrolin ang mga taong araw-araw niyang nakakasama.
But we can still do something.
We can continue speaking the truth responsibly.
We can expose corruption using lawful means.
We can recommend good people whenever opportunities arise.
We can help our communities.
We can remain productive citizens.
At higit sa lahat, maaari nating ipagdasal na bigyan ng Diyos ng karunungan ang ating mga pinuno.
Because wisdom is sometimes more powerful than political strategy.
Sa mahigit isang daan at labintatlong milyong Pilipino, naniniwala akong napakaraming matitino, matatalino, at may integridad na handang magsilbi sa bayan. Ang hamon ay paano sila mabibigyan ng pagkakataon.
Government becomes stronger not because one leader knows everything, but because good people choose to serve around that leader.
Perhaps this is also why I continue calling myself a hopeless hopeful.
I remain hopeful because I still believe that the Philippines can become better. I still believe that every administration, no matter how imperfect, can still succeed if surrounded by men and women of integrity, competence, humility, and genuine love for the Filipino people.
Yet, at the same time, I also feel hopeless.
Not because I have lost faith in my country.
But because I know there is only so much an ordinary citizen can do.
There are moments when I sincerely wish I could help. Not because I seek a government position. Not because I desire power or recognition. Those who know me personally understand that I have never been the kind of person who chases appointments. What I have always wanted is simply to contribute, to share ideas, and to offer whatever experience I have gained through years of teaching, public service, research, and writing.
Minsan naiisip ko, “Kung mabibigyan lang sana ako ng pagkakataon, baka may maliit akong maiaambag para sa ating bayan.”
Yet reality reminds me that every President naturally has his own circle. Every administration has trusted advisers. Leadership requires trust. Kaya minsan, kahit gusto mong tumulong, alam mong malabo kang magkaroon ng pagkakataon.
You remain outside the room where decisions are made.
Outside the policy discussions.
Outside the conversations that shape the nation’s future.
And perhaps that is the quiet frustration carried by many ordinary Filipinos.
Hindi dahil gusto nating magkaroon ng posisyon.
Kundi dahil naniniwala tayong may maitutulong tayo, ngunit alam nating maaaring hindi iyon makarating sa mga taong gumagawa ng pinakamahahalagang desisyon.
That realization can make anyone feel hopeless.
Yet strangely, it also strengthens hope.
Because if we truly love our country, we do not stop caring simply because we were never invited inside the room.
We continue writing.
We continue teaching.
We continue proposing reforms.
We continue helping our communities.
We continue praying for our leaders.
And we continue hoping that one good idea may someday reach someone who can make a difference.
If there are allegations of corruption, let the law investigate.
If crimes have been committed, let justice take its course.
If an administration ultimately fails, let history judge it honestly.
But while a constitutionally elected government remains in office, I believe our greater responsibility is not to hope that it collapses.
Because when a government falls into disorder, it is not politicians who suffer first.
It is workers.
It is businesses.
It is families.
It is our children.
It is the future of the Republic itself.
That is why I remain a hopeless hopeful.
Hopeful enough to believe that even imperfect governments can still become instruments of good if surrounded by wise, honest, and courageous people.
Hopeful enough to believe that constitutional democracy remains our best path despite its imperfections.
Hopeful enough to believe that loving our country sometimes means protecting its institutions while continuing to reform them.
Perhaps that is the true meaning of being a hopeless hopeful.
Not someone who has surrendered.
Not someone who blindly accepts everything.
But someone who continues to love his country enough to correct it, defend it, pray for it, and hope for it—even knowing he may never be among those who decide its future.
Because governments will come and go.
Presidents will change.
Political seasons will pass.
But the Republic must endure.
And so I remain…
A hopeless hopeful.
Not because I expect the Philippines to become perfect.
But because I refuse to stop believing that it can become better.
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Dear friends,
*About the author:
