I used to rage against everything I couldn’t control. The systematic corruption in our government. The historical revisionism poisoning our social media feeds. The seemingly endless cycle of politicians’ children inheriting their parents’ positions like medieval monarchs. The pain of watching my fellow Filipinos choose Marcos Jr. over Leni Robredo still burns deep in my chest. How could they not see? How could they forget?
I blamed them once. All of them. The masses. My anger was a constant companion. I looked down from my privileged position, armed with my education and access to information, wondering how they could be so “blind.”
But here’s the uncomfortable truth about blame and judgment. They solve nothing. Most of us are caught in this exhausting cycle of outrage, watching our country struggle while feeling helpless to change its course. We’re tired. Beaten down. Yet somehow still fighting.
Let me step back for a moment and explore something deeper that’s been consuming my thoughts lately. We’ve created this terrifying reality where speaking truth to power marks us as enemies of the state. Where questioning Duterte’s drug war makes us “destabilizers.” Where supporting farmers’ rights gets us red-tagged as communists. Where Sara Duterte continues her father’s legacy of silencing dissenters through fear and intimidation. Where access to truth becomes a privilege, not a right.
You know what’s truly liberating? Understanding that our fellow Filipinos vote not out of malice, but from a place of limited information. The poor have been systematically marginalized from the information highway. While we scroll through multiple news sources, many rely on whatever reaches their radio, whatever stories their relatives share, whatever narratives dominate their small circles.
Think about the last time you encountered someone supporting Marcos Jr. Really examine that moment. Did you dismiss them as ignorant, or did you try to understand their context? The answer might make you uncomfortable. Good. Discomfort often precedes growth.
Here’s what I’ve learned through countless nights of political despair (and finally, strategic hope): The key isn’t to stop fighting for our country. It’s not about accepting disinformation. The real art lies in understanding that blame is useless. Our energy is better spent building bridges than burning them.
Some days, this philosophy feels like a revelation. Walking through life, seeing beyond the voting patterns to the systemic issues beneath. The lack of access to education. The gutting of history from our schools. The dominance of entertainment over news. The poor connectivity in rural areas that limits access to diverse information.
But let’s be honest for a moment. This isn’t easy. Some days, the weight of our nation’s challenges feels crushing. You’ll find yourself slipping back into judgment, into rage, into that comfortable space of superiority. And that’s okay too. Growth isn’t linear; it’s a messy, chaotic dance of understanding and frustration.
What matters is the direction you’re moving in. Are you gradually learning to see beyond the surface of voting choices? Are you becoming more understanding of the context that shapes these decisions? Are you learning to maintain hope while acknowledging the deep roots of our problems?
If you’re nodding along, congratulations. You’re already on the path. If you’re skeptical, even better. Skepticism means you’re thinking critically, and critical thinking with empathy is exactly what we need more of in this era of division and blame.
Remember this: At the end of this journey, you won’t regret the judgments you didn’t make or the blame you didn’t cast. You’ll regret the connections you could have built if you hadn’t been too busy pointing fingers.
Choose wisely. Understand deeply. Hope intelligently.
The Philippines will keep moving forward whether we blame each other or not. Might as well make our resistance sustainable and our understanding deeper when it matters most.