Inflation is the real opposition

If surveys could talk, the latest numbers would be shouting. According to Social Weather Stations, dissatisfaction with President Bongbong Marcos was at 43 percent by the end of 2025.

Ask ordinary Filipinos and the answer is blunt: groceries are unaffordable. The minimum wage no longer reaches the end of the week, let alone the checkout counter. 

Inflation has become the administration’s loudest critic, and it doesn’t need a microphone. Food, transport, and daily essentials keep rising, while solutions remain stuck in press releases.

The government points to growth, but even the Philippine Statistics Authority admits 2025 GDP settled at 4.4 percent — far below target. Growth that fails to lower prices is just arithmetic, not progress.

Worse, while officials obsess over scandals and damage control, 51 percent of Filipinos still consider themselves poor. That is the most damning statistic of all. You can spin surveys and massage forecasts, but you cannot spin hunger.

Until economic policy shows up in the palengke, not just in speeches, public dismay will keep growing. Inflation doesn’t care about politics. It only counts pesos, and right now, Filipinos don’t have enough. 

—  Jason Mago

Pay to live

My mother recently had a stroke. She is still in the hospital as I write this. We were lucky. My family had enough. But even “enough” hurts. The bills don’t stop.

I keep asking myself: what happens to families who don’t have enough?

The Constitution says no person shall be deprived of life. It says health care should be accessible and affordable to all. That sounds comforting.

In reality, it’s invoiced.

While waiting in the emergency room, I saw a sign directed at nurses: “Charge first before requesting medicine.” Translation: payment comes before treatment. That’s the rule. We rushed my mother in and paid thousands just to get her discharged from the ER. Nothing fancy.

Think about cancer. Dialysis. Genetic illnesses you never asked for. Survival becomes a financial contest where losing means death. Even oxygen costs money.

The final insult? Health care is brutally expensive, yet the people keeping patients alive are paid next to nothing. Nurses are exhausted, underpaid, and disposable in a system that bleeds patients dry. 

— Carl Magadia

One bill away

Back then, not so long ago, identifying as middle income meant something grand — comfortable, but not quite rich. As Filipinos say, “may kaya.”

Being middle class meant owning a car, having a house, and sending your kids to private school. It meant you could meet your basic needs and even enjoy some luxuries.

Today, the middle class in the Philippines is slowly disappearing. Many are slipping into the low-income category — not because their salaries decreased, but because the cost of living and the bills they pay keep increasing.

The country has succeeded in making the rich richer, the poor poorer, and pushing those in the middle closer to the bottom.

There are two kinds of poor in the country: the chronic poor, households that experience long-term poverty, and the transient poor, those who fall into poverty due to shocks such as health emergencies, disasters, or job loss. Research shows that despite their different situations, these two groups receive the same treatment and safety nets, limiting the effectiveness of poverty programs.

The truth is, the middle class is just one hospital bill away from poverty, debt — or worse, death.

This is where the government should step in by strengthening its safety nets to prevent more Filipinos from falling into poverty. Greater program assistance, opportunities, and financial aid should be directed to “vulnerable” sectors, such as blue-collar workers in agriculture, construction, and manufacturing, to provide stronger risk protection.

The Philippines boasts one of the fastest-growing economies in Southeast Asia, yet development should not be measured by growing numbers alone; rather, it should be reflected in the quality of life of its people.

— Vivienne Angeles