The old fable tells of a scorpion who begged a frog to carry him across the river. The frog hesitated, fearing the sting, but the scorpion promised restraint. Midway, the sting came anyway, dooming them both.
“It is in my nature,” the scorpion whispered as they sank.
Betrayal, then, is not always calculated. Sometimes it is instinct—an inner compulsion that overrides promises and shatters covenants.
The Fracture of Unity
In the Philippine of 2026, betrayal has become the creeping word of our political life—a whisper swelling into a roar as the nation drifts toward the presidential race of 2028.
For the Duterte Diehard Supporters (DDS), betrayal is no abstraction. It is a wound.
The UniTeam, once hailed as a covenant of unity, fractured. President Bongbong Marcos (BBM) brushed aside Vice President Sara Duterte’s path to inherit leadership. What seemed tactical—denying her the Defense portfolio and handing her instead the Department of Education—hardened into a symbol: to the DDS, a rebuff that stings, a sign that their cause has been set aside.
Debt, Memory, and The Hague
The wound deepened when BBM allowed former President Rodrigo Roa Duterte (PRRD) to face the International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague. To the DDS, this was not merely legal—it was personal. A betrayal of memory. They remember: it was PRRD who allowed Marcos Sr. a hero’s burial at the Libingan ng mga Bayani. In their eyes, the son repaid a father’s debt with abandonment.
Thus, betrayal transformed—from grievance into self-righteous fire—fueling Sara Duterte’s emerging momentum toward 2028.
How?
The Silent Withdrawal
In my earlier ATABAY reflection, “The Unseen Impact: How Early Surveys & Non-Response Shape PH Elections,” I explored a quieter form of betrayal—one hidden beneath numbers.
Imagine a voter walking through a crowded street. A surveyor approaches, polite, hopeful, clipboard in hand. The voter hesitates. Memory intrudes: past surveys that promised clarity but delivered confusion, predictions that misfired; whispers of manipulation. Two years before an election—too early, too suspicious. The voter declines.
The surveyor walks on, unaware that this small refusal is part of a larger pattern—the silent withdrawal of critical, independent voters from the survey process.
Here lies the unseen fracture: non-response bias.
When Surveys Manufacture Momentum
When skeptical voters refuse to play along in the survey, the numbers do not simply shrink—they distort. The ground shifts quietly, but decisively. The sample tilts toward those most emotionally mobilized—the aggrieved, the betrayed, the indignant DDS—whose voices grow louder as the rest fall silent.
And so, the figures begin to mirror passion, not proportion. Momentum appears formidable among the 2,400 survey respondents—but elections are not decided by respondents. They are decided by 68 million voters. What looks like a wave in the survey can, in truth, be only an echo—loud, amplified, and politically convenient.
Thus, early surveys may unintentionally amplify the betrayal narrative—projecting strength around Sara Duterte powered more by indignation than by broad national consensus.
Indignation as Electoral Fuel
History suggests this is not a new phenomenon—it is a recurring pattern.
Looking back, it was the same DDS betrayal narrative, fueled by grievance and emotional solidarity, that helped propel Bong Go to the top of the senatorial race, despite controversies surrounding CLTG Builders, a firm linked to his father.
The company reportedly secured P816 million in infrastructure contracts that later expanded to more than P3 billion through joint ventures with the Discayas—names long shadowed by allegations tied to flood control project scandals. In politics, indignation often outweighs investigations; narrative can overpower nuance.
The pattern deepens further. The ICC has reportedly identified Go, alongside fellow senator Ronald “Nagtatagong Bato” Dela Rosa, as alleged co-perpetrators in connection with PRRD’s crime-against-humanity case. Whether proven or contested, it is an accusation that reinforces how political loyalty, legal peril, and public perception now intersect in volatile ways.
Taken together, these episodes reveal a familiar cycle: grievance fuels narrative, narrative shapes perception, perception manufactures momentum. And in that cycle, surveys do not merely measure reality—they can, at times, magnify a political emotion already burning beneath the surface.
The Other Betrayal
Betrayal, however, cuts both ways.
Another sector of the electorate feels betrayed—not by one leader alone, but by the broken vow of the UniTeam itself. In 2022, Bongbong and Sara stood before the nation like bride and groom, pledging unity to the Filipino people. But the covenant dissolved, leaving voters as witnesses to a political marriage undone by mistrust. The betrayal was not only between partners—it was against the public who believed and trusted,
And the lingering question remains, quiet but persistent: what happened to the promise of P20 per kilo rice?
The Coming Reckoning
History reminds us: betrayal is no stranger to Philippine politics. Marcos Sr.’s "Ang Bagong Lipunan" caved in to Martial Law. Estrada’s populist “Erap Para sa Mahirap” ended in ouster. Arroyo’s reformist “Matatag na Republika” plunged in scandal. Betrayal, then, is both curse and catalyst. It destroys illusions—but forces reckoning.
As 2028 approaches, the deeper question is not simply who will prevail—but what will prevail.
Will betrayal’s fire ignite a populist Duterte resurgence, carried by the DDS indignation? Or will truth’s slow burn expose the fractures during Sara's impeachment and The Hague trial, compelling voters to confront harder truths? Both impeachment and Hague trial I discerned as “Twin Damocles Swords of Sara” in my past ATABAY article with the same title.
Like Judas’s kiss. Like Brutus’s dagger. Betrayal in politics is intimate, yet historic. It is the rupture that reveals character, the fracture that tests a nation’s conscience.
Our Nation's Mirror
Perhaps this reckoning did spawn in 2022, when the unsettling question first rose like a murmur beneath the celebration: What's wrong with the Philippines?
When BBM surged to a landslide victory, the world did not merely observe—it questioned. Writing in the Bangkok Post, columnist Gwyne Dyer captured the disquiet: BBM did not just win—he triumphed overwhelmingly, despite the long shadow of a father accused of plunder and a history the world had not forgotten.
That moment was more than an election outcome—it was a mirror. A warning. A revelation of how memory, myth, loyalty, and power can reshape truth in our nation’s political psyche.
When Betrayal Becomes Normal
And now, as 2028 approaches, we find ourselves again midstream—like the frog and the scorpion—still asking the same question, still wrestling the same contradiction. Stung by broken promises, pulled by instinct, burdened by unfinished reckonings, the nation moves forward uncertain whether it is drifting toward awakening… or repeating the cycle.
In the end, the real danger is not betrayal alone—but a people growing used to it. And that, perhaps, is the saddest part.
Content & editing put together in collaboration with Microsoft Bing AI-powered Co-pilot & ChatGPT
Head photo courtesy of ChatGPT image creator, art design by Canva
Collage & still photos courtesy by Asia Media Centre, New York Post, Wikipedia, Engage Media, PxHere, Pixabay, Rappler, Pilipinas Today, Facebook, GMA News, Nikkei Asia, Bing Co-pilot image creator, & Bedtimeshortstories
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