THE MIRROR AND THE ROLLS-ROYCE: WHAT THE DISCAYA SCANDAL REVEALS ABOUT US

 

It began with a showroom – gleaming chrome, imported leather, and over 40 luxury vehicles parked like trophies in a private museum. Rolls-Royce. Bentley. Cadillac. Porsche. Lincoln. The kind of excess that would make even the most jaded billionaire blink. Estimated total price tag: between half to P1 billion - equivalent to around 1,250 Angat Buhay classrooms.

But this wasn’t Dubai or Beverly Hills. This was Pasig City. And the couple behind the wheel? Curlee and Sarah Discaya – construction contractors turned media darlings, now under investigation for billions in government flood control contracts.

The Discaya scandal is not just about wealth. It’s about the image of wealth. And more disturbingly, it’s about how that image is marketed, consumed, and weaponized in Philippine politics.

Sarah Discaya’s transformation – from receptionist to mogul to mayoral aspirant – was no accident. Her televised interviews, dripping with opulence and curated charm, were not mere vanity pieces. They were strategic branding campaigns. A calculated rollout of a political product designed to seduce the Filipino electorate. And the message was clear: “Look at what we have. You could have this too.”

Damaged Culture

But what does it say about us, the viewers, the voters, the citizens, when such displays are not met with outrage, but admiration? When the Rolls-Royce becomes a metaphor for success, and not a question mark for scrutiny?

This is where the mirror turns. The Discayas may be the ones flaunting, but we are the ones watching. And in that reflection, we see the bitter truth: that in our political marketplace, competence and integrity often take a backseat to spectacle and seduction. That candidates are sold not by their platforms, but by their possessions. That the Filipino voter, as a collective, is still vulnerable to the glitter of ill-gotten wealth.

It is this cultural vulnerability that James Fallows diagnosed decades ago in his essay A Damaged Culture: A New Philippines?

Fallows’ words echo hauntingly in the present. Despite our abundant resources and resilient spirit, we remain trapped in cycles of dysfunction – not because we lack talent or opportunity, but because our cultural habits too often reward the wrong virtues. In a society where spectacle often eclipses substance, where proximity to power and wealth is mistaken for merit, the roots of our national malaise run deep.

This diagnosis finds unsettling affirmation in more recent events. Shortly after Bongbong Marcos’s landslide victory in the 2022 presidential election, columnist Gwyne Dyer of the Bangkok Post posed a piercing question as the banner of his piece: “What’s wrong with the Philippines?” He wrote:

“Bongbong Marcos didn’t just win the presidential election in the Philippines… He won it by a two-to-one landslide, despite the fact that he is the extremely entitled son of a former president who stole at least US$10 billion and a mother who spent the loot party on the world’s most extensive collection of designers shoes (3,000 pairs).”

Dyer’s words, like Fallows’, are not merely critiques – they are mirrors. They reflect a painful truth: that in our political culture, memory is often short, accountability elusive, and charisma can eclipse character.

The landslide victory, much like the Discaya spectacle, reveals a troubling pattern – where the Filipino electorate, seduced by legacy or luxury, overlooks the deeper questions of integrity, history, and consequence. It is a pattern that is now resurfacing itself in plain sight, staining the present with the residue of unlearned lessons – a symptom of deeper cultural decay.

But this is not a call to despair. It is a call to discernment.

Teaching Moment

The Discaya affair is a teaching moment. A chance to ask: What kind of society do we want to be? What kind of leaders do we deserve? And what kind of voters must we become?

Let us not merely condemn the scandal. Let us confront our culture that enables it. Let us hold up the mirror – not to shame, but to awaken.

Because the real luxury we should aspire to is not in Rolls-Royces or mansions, but in a nation where truth is prized, integrity is honored, and the Filipino soul is no longer for sale.

Some call it “a stroke of luck.” Others, with reverent awe, call it “God’s mysterious way” of intervening for the Filipino people. Whatever name we give it, the triumph of Vico Sotto over the Discaya brand of politics was more than an electoral win – it was a quiet miracle.

Young, idealistic, and untainted by the machinery of traditional power, Sotto stands as a rare anomaly in the Philippine political landscape: a public servant whose integrity is not a costume but a conviction.

But let us not be lulled by this singular victory. For while Pasig chose light, the rest of the nation remains vulnerable to shadows.

Imagine this: in other provinces, Discaya-like figures – armed with charm, wealth, and media-crafted personas – could have easily outshone run-of-the-mill opponents. They might now be seated in city halls, signing off on inflated, if not “ghost” flood control projects, laundering public funds through luxury car dealerships, and turning government offices into personal showrooms.

The corruption crisis would not only persist – it would metastasize.

Torchbearer

And so, Sotto’s win is not just a local triumph. It is a divine intervention. A manna from Heaven. In Pasig, light overcame darkness. The electorate became a microcosm of the radical transformation our country so desperately needs. What happened there is not merely political – it is prophetic. A lamp unto our nation’s feet. A light onto our people’s path.

It we, as a nation, can learn from Pasig – if we can choose substance over spectacle, integrity over indulgence – then there is hope. Not just for cleaner governance, but for a cultural awakening. The Discaya scandal may have held up a mirror, but Pasig held up a torch.

Let us follow its flame.

 Car-free Sunday in Pasig

Postscript

The Discaya scandal may fade from headlines, but the questions it raises must not. In every election, we are given a choice – not just between candidates - but between values. May we learn to choose not what dazzles the eyes, but what dignifies the soul. May Pasig’s light not remain a flicker in the dark, but a spark that kindles a nation’s revival.

Final Word

This piece is offered not as an indictment, but as an invitation – to reflect, to awaken, and to hope. May this reflection stir something within you – not just about politics, but about the kind of nation we are becoming, and the kind of people we are called to be.

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FLOODED BY CORRUPTION: THE BLUEPRINT FOR INTEGRITY AND REFORM

 

There are floods we expect – monsoons, typhoons, rivers that swell with rain. And then there are floods we never see coming – those that rise from within, from the cracks in our institutions, from the silence of complicity, from the betrayal of public trust.

The recent exposé on the flood control scandal has left the nation stunned. Senator Panfilo Lacson’s speech, Flooded Gates of Corruption, didn’t just drop a bombshell – it opened a dam.

He revealed how billions in public funds were siphoned off through ghost projects, coded kickbacks, and political insertions. From 2011 to 2023, P1.9 trillion was poured into flood control. And yet, only 40% was left for the project, the rest of the bulk vanished – not into the river, but into pockets.

The names may yet be hidden, but the pattern is clear. Projects with identical costs. Reseta fees imposed by engineers. Parking fees paid to lawmakers. Funders demanding 25% of the budget.

Senator Panfilo Lacson stunned the nation with his "Floodgates of Corruption" speech

DPWH – The Solution Starter

And at the center of the storm? The Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) – the very department tasked with protecting us from floods.

Let’s not mince words. If we’re looking for the solution starter to the scandalous complex problem, we must first crack open the Pandora’s Box at the DPWH.

It is the institutional crux, the root of the rot. Secretary Bonoan himself admitted that central audits are sporadic, often reliant on field reports and photos that may be falsified.

The concrete has cracked. The foundations are hollow. 

So, what do we do?

We start where the cracks run deepest. We open the box – not to unleash chaos, but to confront it. We expose the mechanisms, reform the culture, and rebuild the trust.

DPWH Secretary Manuel Bonoan

Easily said than done? Maybe. Here’s where the story takes a turn – not toward despair, but toward hope.

Let’s say you work for a big government institution. Bit by bit, you advance in your career. You carry a comfortable salary, build a retirement nest egg, and settle into the rhythm of public service. Then one day, you stumbled upon something terribly wrong – an abuse of power, a misuse of funds, a betrayal of the very mission you serve.

Do you make a big stink and endanger your job? Or do you look the other way, knowing full well that the organization will resist change, and that speaking out might leave you flattened – road-kill on the highway of institutional self-preservation?

Bunny’s Story – A Template of Courage and Hope

This was the direful situation confronting Bunnatine “Bunny” Greenhouse in her story featured in the book “Your America: Democracy’s Local Heroes.” She helped bring accountability and transparency to a giant government agency, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. As a top civilian inside the agency, she became a whistleblower and waged a personal battle, refusing to back down or quit.

It was in the 90s when Bunny became the top civilian procurement officer at the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers – the first woman and the first African American to do so. In her time at the agency, she would oversee over $23 billion worth of contracts, approving and signing all procurements and contracts, each one valued at over $10 million.

Grew up in a poor family, she wasn’t a rebel. She was a steward. A career public servant who simply didn’t buy deceit. Thinking of that, I know it would scare you out of your wits to imagine following in Bunny’s footsteps.

But, that’s precisely why Bunny’s story matters. Because she did what most of us fear to do today. She stood up. She spoke out. And she didn’t flinch.

Bunnatine "Bunny" Greenhouse

Twin Personal "Bodyguards"

You may wonder: Did she have a backer? Yes - two.

First, her family. The discipline she learned at home left a lasting imprint.

“My mother always said lying is in the intention, not the content,” Bunny recalled. In her household, silence in the face of untruth was never acceptable. Truth wasn’t just taught – it was expected.

Second, her faith. Bunny is a deeply spiritual woman. She believed that God had a purpose for her life and she embraced it with conviction.

“I was to be a fisher of men,” she said – echoing the moment when Jesus called two fishermen to follow Him. Her courage was not self-made; it was anchored in calling.

So where did Bunny find her support?

Not from institutional shields or legal armor, but from a network of truth-tellers – investigative journalists, members of Congress, and outraged citizens. The whistleblower speaks. The media amplifies. Congress investigates. And together – forming what she called the information triangle - they generate enough moral and political leverage to shake the system.

It's a model that works – when the institutions are willing to listen.

Oops – Our Philippine Slip Is Showing

But here in the Philippines, the cracks run deep.

Congress, the very body meant to investigate, appears entangled in the flood control scandal itself. So where do we turn when the watchdog is part of the mess?

Perhaps to alternative mechanisms, like Senator Tito Sotto’s proposed Independent People’s Commission – a body outside the usual political machinery, designed to probe with impartiality and public trust.

Not to mention that unlike in the U.S., we still lack a comprehensive Whistleblower Protection Act. It’s been filed multiple times in Congress, yet remains unpassed – gathering dust while courage goes unrewarded and unprotected.

Yes, there are fragments: Republic Acts, agency memos, administrative orders. But they offer only partial protection – a patchwork of promise in a landscape that demands bold reforms.

A Few Good Men and Women

As the old saying goes: Sunlight is the best medicine. Bringing truth into the light makes it harder for sleaze to survive.

Yes, Bunny paid the price. But, in doing so, she became a living answer to the question we all ask in moments of moral crisis.

Can it be done? Yes. It can.

And if Bunny could do it inside the 35,000-employee U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, then someone can do it inside DPWH with around 20,000 work force. Surely, there’s a few good men and women in our flood-ridden DPWH bureaucracy who can choose conscience over complicity.

Let Bunny’s story be more than inspiration. Let it be a template for:

Engineers who refuse to falsify reports

Auditors who speak up when numbers don’t add up

Citizens who use platforms like Sumbong sa Pangulo to report anomalies

Lawmakers who choose reform over reward.

Change Begins in Us

Let Bunny's story be a striking answer to every doubting Thomas who asks, “Can it be done?”

Yes, it can. Yes, it must. Yes, it begins with us.

Because behind every ghost project is a real family displaced. Behind every padded budget is a child wading through floodwaters to school. Behind every silence is a soul waiting in justice.

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves… defend the rights of the poor and needy.” Proverbs 31:8-9

Let us be the echo that refuses to be drowned. Let us be the whistle in the wind, the voice in the storm, the hand that rebuilds not just dikes – but dignity.

For in the end, the most important public work is not what we construct with concrete and steel, but what we uphold with truth.

To The Few Good Men And Women

This piece is dedicated to every soul who has ever stood alone in the face of wrongdoing – to the quiet whistleblowers, the honest engineers, the truth-telling auditors, to the public servants who still believe that service is sacred.

To those who have nothing to do with deceit, who documented what others erased, who endured demotion, ridicule, and silent treatment – but never surrendered their voice.

To the Bunny among us, and to the ones still waiting for courage to rise.

May this be your reminder that one voice can crack concrete, and one act of integrity can drain the flood.

Let us build again – not just with steel and stone, but with truth, honor, and the kind of hope that refuses to drown.

Your Voice Matters

If this reflection has stirred something in you – a memory, a conviction, a story wanting to be told – share it.

Whether you’ve witnessed integrity in action, stood your ground in quiet resistance, or simply carry a hope for a better nation – your voice matter.

Tell your story. Speak your truth.

We can be the flood that cleanses, the dike that holds firm, and the stream where justice flows.

Keep the conversation alive.

Keep the courage burning.

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Head collage photos courtesy of Shutterstock, Inquirer.net, The Market Monitor, Philstar.com, The Manila Times, Getty Images

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NINOY AQUINO: THE FAITH BEHIND THE HERO

 

“If I’m killed, I’ll be with Jesus.” – Ninoy Aquino, smiling, to Charles Colson

Every August 21, we mark the day Ninoy Aquino was gunned down on the tarmac – a moment that cracked open the soul of a nation and lit the fuse of People Power. But beyond the yellow ribbons, the grainy footage, and the political debates, there’s a quieter Ninoy I met – not in person, but in spirit. Not through headlines, but through an old book I stumbled upon in a dusty Booksale outlet. That’s where I found a quote that changed everything for me: “If I’m killed, I’ll be with Jesus.”

It wasn’t just a line. It was a revelation. And its significance was buried – ignored by the secular press, dismissed by the political pundits, and forgotten by a nation too busy arguing over whether Ninoy was a hero or a schemer. But to me? He was something else entirely.

Born Again in a Prison Cell

In a chance encounter aboard a plane, Ninoy met Charles Colson – the Watergate convict turned Christian author. Their conversation, recorded in Colson’s Kingdoms in Conflict, revealed a Ninoy few had ever known. Bitter, broken, and betrayed in prison, Ninoy had reached the end of himself. His mother sent him Colson’s memoir Born Again, and something enkindled. He devoured the Bible. He wept. He knelt. And in that prison cell, he surrendered his life to Jesus Christ.

It wasn’t political. It wasn’t strategic. It was personal. It was spiritual. It was real.

Like Colson, Ninoy found strength in surrender. He discovered joy in brokenness. And he emerged from that cell not just with a renewed sense of purpose – but with peace. The kind of peace that lets a man smiled and say, “If I’m killed, I’ll be with Jesus.”

A Grain of Wheat Must Fall

I, too, have once walked that path. As I shared in my ATABAY article The Old Has Passed Away, The New Has Come, my own conversion came not in prison cell, but in a vault of pride – career, resumé, family, success, all neatly stacked. Until crisis cracked it open. Until an imagined imminent mortality stared me down. Until I fell like a grain of wheat to the ground.

That journey transformed me. It helped me see Ninoy differently - not through the lens of politics, but through the heart of shared spiritual kinship.

A Nation Divided, A Legacy Remembered

Today, our nation is torn – not by bullets or bayonets, but by hashtags and headlines. By Facebook memes and social media charges. By a war of words that rages not in the streets, but in the comment sections of our collective consciousness.

On one side stand the pro-DDS, the Duterte Diehard Supporters, still fiercely loyal to the extrajudicial killing legacy of the former president. They speak of discipline, order, and the kind of leadership that doesn’t flinch in the face of bloodbath. For them, strength is virtue, and silence is complicity.

On the other side rises the pro-BBM (Bongbong Marcos) camp, rallying behind the son of a former dictator, now rebranded in the hues of unity. They speak of moving on, of revising history. For them, legacy is inheritance, and redemption is a family affair.

And then, at the periphery – but never silent – are the Pinkalawans, the remnants of the opposition, the torchbearers of the EDSA spirit. They speak of truth, transparency, and the moral compass of democracy. For them, memory is sacred, and forgetting is betrayal.

Each camp claims patriotism. Each camp claims the future. And in the middle stands Pinoy – bewildered, battered, and bombarded by narratives that clash louder than a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal in a marching band.

Two Facets of Ninoy’s Legacy

Marking the direful day Ninoy was assassinated, all sides – despite their differences – spare no effort in flipping through his legacy.

On one side, the orthodox view portrays Ninoy as a calculating figure – seeing in his return to Manila a bold opportunity to succeed Ferdinand E. Marcos Sr. It suggests ambition as his compass, risk as his currency.

On the other side, the quintessential view honors Ninoy as a martyr whose assassination ignited national outrage and sowed the seeds of democracy. His death, awakened a sleeping nation and gave birth to a movement.

Thus, Ninoy – on one side, an opportunist; on the other, a hero.

But in the cacophony of debate, I choose a different lens. I choose to see Ninoy not through the eyes of politics, but through the eyes of faith.

He was a man who suffered. A man who surrendered. A man who found Jesus in the darkest of places. And when he stepped off that plane in 1983, he wasn’t just returning to Manila. He was walking into destiny – with peace in his heart and Jesus in his lips: “If I’m killed, I’ll be with Jesus.”

He Is My Brother

As we remember Ninoy, I’ll whisper a prayer for a man who showed me that faith isn’t just for the pulpit – it’s for the prison cell, the political arena, the tarmac, and the heart of every Pinoy searching for meaning.

Ninoy wasn’t perfect. None of us are. But he was reborn. And in that rebirth, he found courage, clarity, and conviction. That’s the Ninoy I know. That’s the Ninoy I honor.

And that is the legacy I choose to remember.

He is my brother.

Content & editing put together in collaboration with Bing Microsoft AI-powered Co-pilot

Head collage photos courtesy of Ylanite Koppers @ pexels.com, Shutterstock, Instagram, Getty Images, Flickr, & Panay News, Adobe Stock

Still photos courtesy of Goodreads, Vecteezy, Getty Images, Instagram, Pngtree, CNA, Behance, & Arts and Travel Magazine

OF JET SKIS AND DEEPFAKES: WHEN SATIRE SPEAKS AND SILENCE HURTS

 

What happens when the punchline becomes policy, and the parody outpaces the truth?

A jet ski promise once made the nation laugh – until we realized the joke’s on us.

A deepfake scandal once made headlines – until we saw whose dignity was being digitally dismantled.

This piece is about our country that mistook mockery for strength, and about a family that bore the brunt of our collective forgetting.

It’s not just about what was said.

It’s about what we chose to believe, and who we chose to betray.

In the theater of Philippine politics, satire is often dismissed as noise – until it hits a nerve. And when it does, the reaction reveals more than the joke itself. What follows is not just a critique of selective outrage, but a reckoning with how humor, cruelty, and silence have been weaponized in unequal measure.

Let’s begin with a skit, a scandal, and the uncomfortable truths they expose.

THE JOKE That Shook The DDS

Recently, Vice Ganda found herself in the crosshairs of the Duterte Diehard Supporters (DDS) for a satirical skit poking fun at the infamous jet ski promise of former President Rodrigo Duterte. The punchline? A playful jab at the political theatrics. The reaction? A tsunami of condemnation from DDS, who suddenly discovered their moral compass – only, it seems, when the joke’s on them.

WHEN THE JOKE Isn’t A Joke

Let’s talk about hurt. Real hurt. Not bruised egos from late-night comedy, but the kind that scars families and shatters dignity.

Take Aika Robredo, daughter of former Vice President Leni Robredo. In the heat of the 2022 campaign, Aika became the target of a vile deepfake pornographic video – her face superimposed onto another woman’s body using AI. It was cruel, calculated, and cowardly. And it wasn’t satire. It was violence.

Archbishop Socrates Villegas offered words of comfort to Aika.

I could only imagine Leni, as a mother, wailing silently into the void: "What have I done to you?”

Her cry, though unspoken, mirrors a deeper lament – a soliloquy of suffering that transcends politics and pierces the soul. It’s the same silent cry of Jesus - betrayed, brutalized, and nailed on the cross.

In those lines, we hear not just divine sorrow, but the human ache of being vilified despite service, mocked despite sacrifice, and crucified by the very people one ought to uplift.

Leni’s journey – marked by dignity, restraint, and quiet courage – was met not with reasoned debate, but with venomous ridicule. Her daughter Aika, dragged into the mud through a deepfake assault, bore the brunt of a political machine that weaponized shame. And still, they stood. Not with vengeance, but with grace.

“What have I offended you?” This is not just Leni’s lament. It is the cry of every woman who served with integrity and was repaid with cruelty. It is the echo of every truth-teller who dared to speak and was silenced. It is the question we must all ask – not of them, but of ourselves.

GALAWANG SINDIKATO: A Pattern of Political Violence

Former Senator Leila de Lima, herself a victim of similar attacks in 2016, called it out for what it was: Galawang Sindikato. (It’s what the syndicates do.)

And yet where was the outrage then? Where were the DDS defenders of decency when Aika’s dignity was dragged through the mud? When Leni was branded “madumb,” “lutang,” “tanga,” “utal-utal”? When disinformation flooded the campaign trail, painting Bongbong and Sara tandem in glowing hues while Leni was smeared with venom?

According to Tsek.ph, a fact-checking coalition of 34 academic and media institutions, the disinformation was not random – it was strategic. Leni’s words were twisted, fabricated, weaponized. Meanwhile, the UniTeam basked in the sunshine of algorithmic adoration.

WHAT ARE DEEPFAKES And Why Should We Care

Deepfakes are digitally manipulated videos that use AI to superimpose one person’s face onto another’s body. Originally developed for entertainment and visual effects, they’ve now become tools for harassment, political sabotage, and sexual exploitation.

SPEAK When It Matters Most

Dear ATABAY Reader, satire is not the enemy. If we only speak up when our side is mocked and stay quiet when others are violated, we become complicit in the cruelty.

Let’s be better – not just louder when our side is mocked, but brave when others are harmed. If this article resonates with you, share it. Let it spark conversations about digital ethics, political accountability, and the kind of leadership we deserve.

Speak up for those who’ve been silenced by deepfake abuse and disinformation, especially women whose dignity has been weaponized for political gain. And when satire dares to speak truth to power, defend it – not because it’s perfect, but because it’s necessary.

In a time when silence is often safer, choosing to speak is an act of courage.

EPILOGUE: The Wake After The Waves

The jet ski stunt was never meant to land. The deepfake hit its mark.

Truth didn’t just float – it was shoved under, while trolls threw confetti.

And the crowd cheered, not knowing they’d paid for the show.

But the tide has a habit of turning.

And when it does, it won’t be the memes that survive –

It will be the receipts.

Content & editing put together in collaboration with Bing Microsoft AI-powered Co-pilot

Head collage photos courtesy of South China Morning Post & Behance & Metro; design by Canva

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TWIN DAMOCLES SWORDS OF SARA: POLITICAL ODYSSEY IN PERIL

 

The Senate may have tucked the impeachment papers into a drawer labeled Locked Up Forthwith, however, Vice President Sara Duterte’s political weather forecast still reads: stormy with a chance of subpoenas.

Two Damoclean swords remain suspended – one courtesy of Congress, the other sharpened in The Hague – dangling like Mary Grace Piattos and Jay Kamote scribbled on receipts to justify P612.5 million in confidential funds. Over her 2028 ambitions, they hover not with grace, but with the greasy fingerprints of impunity.

Welcome to the ATABAY sequel, where silence isn’t golden – it’s just heavily lawyered. We trace the fault lines beneath the hush, the legal acrobatics, and yes, the elephant still lounging in the courtroom.

Politics, legacy, and peril converge in a high-stakes odyssey. Read on as the unravelling begins.

Two Ominous Swords

When the Senate archived VP Sara’s impeachment case, many thought the storm had passed. But in truth, the thunder merely paused. Recall the Supreme Court’s (SC) ruling: it “does not absolve petitioner Duterte from any of the charges.” Even President Bongbong Marcos clarified his position that the SC ruling did not resolve Sara Duterte’s accountability: “The Supreme Court decision does not have any bearing on the rightness or wrongness of the merits of the case.”

Beneath the surface of procedural jargon and partisan applause, two ominous blades continue to hover above VP Sara – one forged in the contentious halls of Congress, the other sharpened in the solemn chambers of the International Criminal Court (ICC)

These are the twin Damoclean swords that now define her political odyssey: the impeachment case that refuses to fade into quiet irrelevance, and the looming Hague proceedings against her father, former President Rodrigo Duterte (PRRD). Each casts its own shadow – legal, moral, and symbolic. But together, they threaten to reshape the very contours of her 2028 presidential ambitions, turning what was once a confident ascent into a perilous balancing act.

Sword One: The Impeachment That Refuses to Fade

While the Senate has shelved the case, the SC, on the other hand, remains entangled in a motion for reconsideration filed by the House of Representatives. The delay, cloaked in legal technicalities – such as the hair-splitting over the word forthwith – has wounded the two institutions that meant to uphold justice. Instead, they’ve become sanctuaries of ambiguity.

Public backlash has been swift and unforgiving. Legal luminaries, academic voices, lawyers’ groups, and ordinary citizens have spoken in unison. Nearly 9 out of 10 Filipinos want VP Sara to address the impeachment charges against her and clear her name of corruption allegations, a new Social Weather Stations (SWS) survey reveals. The credibility of both the Senate and the SC has taken a hit, their perceived impartiality now questioned by the very people they serve.

Sword Two: The Hague Case Looms

This coming September 23, the ICC begins its proceedings against PRRD for alleged crimes against humanity. While VP Sara is not on trial, the political and moral proximity as a daughter is undeniable. The recent legal maneuvers to shield her from impeachment have further reinforced public perception of the Duterte brand: a legacy of legal weaponization and institutional manipulation.

Exhibit A: “I don’t understand what the prosecution is trying to do! Put me in triple jeopardy after nearly 7 years in unjust detention? Hindi na lang katawa-tawa ang ginawa nila, nakakagalit na,” Leila De Lima vented after the Department of Justice withdrew the appeal of the prosecutors. “Nila” refers to these pro-Duterte prosecutors who wanted her conviction on the trumped-up illegal drug charges arising from her being the arch-enemy of PRRD and his now-infamous war on drugs.

The Hague case sharpens the second sword, not just through association, but through the emboldening of complainants who now figure out clearly a Duterte machine pattern, a precedent, and a scheme. Thus, like it or not, the stacks of evidence grow increasingly. The testimonies solidify perforce. And the shadow lengthens.

The Elephant in the Courtroom

Let’s not pretend the courtroom is empty. Twelve of the Supreme Court justices were appointed by PRRD. A majority of the Senate is his political allies. The architecture of power remains intact, even as the façade begins to crack.

Despite the celebratory noise from the Duterte Diehard Supporters (DDS), the reality is stark: VP Sara’s impeachment case is not resolved – it’s metastasizing – swelling and burgeoning from one part of the body to another. The longer it’s delayed, the more corrosive it becomes – the more torturous the agony of VP Sara and the nation as the impeachment process prolongs. And with the Hague case on the horizon, her political future is not just uncertain – it’s increasingly untenable.

Sara’s Road to 2028 Is Paved with Shadows

In the theater of Philippine politics, silence is rarely neutral. It is often choreographed, weaponized, and sold as stability. But beneath the hush lies a growing disquiet – a public that sees through the curtains: a Supreme Court and a Senate that risk losing their moral compass, and a political figure whose ascent is haunted by the ghosts of legacy and law.

If acquitted, as the pro-Duterte Senate is widely expected to ensure, Vice President Sara may yet chart a course toward the 2028 presidential race. But should she choose to run, she will not do so unburdened. She will move forward beneath the twin shadows of unresolved scrutiny and lingering doubt - each Damoclean sword suspended by the thinnest thread of public trust.

As she takes each step on that perilous stormy road, it will not be in solitude. A nation wearied yet watchful will be trailing close behind, measuring not just her ambition, but the moral weight it carries.

Content and editing put together in collaboration with Microsoft Bing AI-powered Co-pilot & Grammarly

Head photo courtesy of Microsoft Bing AI-powered Co-pilot, design by Canva

Still photos courtesy of EHEM Instagram, Rappler, ChatGPT Image Creator, ICC, & Stock Cake

APPLAUDING CORRUPTION: WHEN SHAME GETS STANDING OVATION

 

I watched the 2025 State of the Nation Address (SONA) unfold on television, not merely as a citizen, but as a witness to a paradox. What I saw was not simply a political gathering, but a quiet unraveling of our collective conscience.

Within the grand hall, applause echoed amongst the revered and the reviled, as if virtue and vice had become interchangeable masks in the theater of power.

The speech resonated with promises and pride, but beneath the surface lay a troubling silence: the scarcity of accountability, the normalization of impunity.

This article is not a critique of policy. It's here to call out the hypocrisy and the dangerous ease with which we've learned to cheer for the very things that should make us weep.

Mahiya Naman Kayo

President Bongbong Marcos (BBM) in his 2025 SONA delivered at long last what should have been a moment of moral reckoning:

"Huwag na po tayong magkunwari. Alam naman ng buong madla na nagkaka-racket sa mga proyekto." [applause and cheers]

"Mahiya naman kayo sa mga kabahayan nating naanod o nalubog sa mga baha!"

"Mahiya naman kayo lalo sa mga anak natin na magmamana sa mga utang na ginawa ninyo, na binulsa nyo lang ang pera." [applause and cheers]

And then – BBM! BBM! BBM! BBM! BBM! BBM!

Not silence. Not awkward shifting in seats. Not the kind of contemplative stillness that guilt sometimes demands. No, it was applause. Loud, confident, and perfectly executed. The very people being called out clapped as if they were congratulating themselves for being publicly shamed with flair.

2023: Build Better More, Clap Louder Still

Flashback to the 2023 SONA, when BBM proudly declared:

“And thus, with this in my heart, I know that the state of the nation is sound, and is improving.”

BBM’s choice of the word “sound” seemed to scoff at this CNN headline then: PH ranks 116th [out of 180 countries] in global corruption index.

In that two-year-old SONA, BBM said:

“One of the keys to continuing economic growth is infrastructure development. Our 8.3-trillion peso Build Better More Program is currently in progress and being vigorously implemented.” [applause and cheers]

It was a moment of triumph – until you placed it side by side with words of Baguio City Mayor Benjamin Magalong, whose exposé peeled back the curtain on the infrastructure circus:

“The way they disposed of it is institutional. Some congressmen have several projects and roads but the bidding was rigged. You can check the profile of some legislators and LGU executives – many of them are contractors and suppliers. They get a percentage and they also get the projects as contractors.”

In short: the applause was for a program where half the budget might be lost to corruption, and the other half to mediocrity. If applause were a currency, it was being spent lavishly on illusion.

The Applause Paradox: When Shame Gets a Big Hand

So, what does it mean when applause follows a public shaming?

It means we’ve entered the realm of performative morality, where clapping is no longer a gesture of agreement but a reflex of self-preservation. In Philippine political arena, applause is the new camouflage. It’s how you blend in when the spotlight turns accusatory. It’s how you say, “I’m not guilty,” without saying anything at all.

It’s the laugh track in a tragic sitcom - the canned cheer in a terrible talent show.

Silence: The Truth We’re Afraid to Hear

Imagine if, instead of applause, the hall had fallen silent. Imagine the weight of those words – “Mahiya naman kayo” – landing without the cushion of clapping hands. Silence would have been uncomfortable. Telling. Honest.

But silence is dangerous in political theater. It suggests critical thought. It implies guilt. And so, applause becomes the safer choice. The louder the claps, the deeper the cover-up.

A Nation at the Bottom, Applauding from the Top

The Philippines ranks among the worst in ASEAN for corruption and poverty. One in every four Filipinos lives below the poverty line. And yet, inside the halls of power, applause flows freely – like champagne at a party thrown by pickpockets.

This is not just a political problem. It’s a cultural one. A moral one. A spiritual one. We have learned to clap for shame, to cheer for contradiction, to celebrate the very things that betray us.

So, the next time applause erupts in a congressional hall, ask yourself: Is it the sound of conviction – or the sound of complicity?

Because in a nation where applause follows accusations, where shame is met with ovation, and where silence is the only honest reaction left, we must begin to listen not to the noise, but to its absence.

Mythos from Maestros

Consider Gustav Mahler and Felix Mendelssohn, two composers who requested that their symphonies be played without breaks between movements. Why? Because applause, however, well-meaning, disrupted the emotional arc. It severed the soul’s journey mid-thought. It turned reflection into interruption.

Mahler feared that clapping would fracture the fragile tension he so carefully built. Mendelssohn wanted the listener to remain immersed, uninterrupted, in the unfolding truth of the music. They understood that some moments are too sacred for applause. That silence, sustained, is sometimes the only way to honor what’s been revealed.

Time to Listen and Reflect

In the theater of our politics, we’ve forgotten the quiet wisdom that once guided conscience. We no longer clap to honor truth – we clap to outrun it. Applause has become our shield, our smokescreen, our way of severing the moral arc before it reaches the heart. Each ovation interrupts the soul’s journey, replacing reflection with reflex, and conviction with choreography.

So, maybe, in a time when noise is mistaken for virtue, the most courageous act left is not to clap.

Not out of indifference, but out of awakening. Not in protest, but in presence. Not because we have nothing to say, but because we are finally ready to listen.

“The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear.” – Rumi

In that silence, truth is no longer drowned – it is heard. And, perhaps, that is where healing begins.

Content & editing put together in collaboration with Bing Microsoft AI-powered Co-pilot & Grammarly

Head photo courtesy of ChatGPT Image Creator, design by Canva

Still photos courtesy of YouTube, Baguio Herald Express Homepage, Getty Images, Pinterest, The Star Graphics, Transparency International, Shutter stock