Remembering PNoy’s standard

Last 8 February, the late former President Noynoy Aquino would have turned 66. What struck me most that day was not just the anniversary itself, but the sheer number of Filipinos who took to social media to remember him. Not with memes or irony, but with genuine affection. Posts about integrity. About competence. About a time when the idea that government could actually work did not feel like a punchline.

In the middle of today’s nonstop corruption scandals, that collective remembering felt oddly reassuring.

PNoy did not come out of nowhere. His rise to the presidency was fueled by public anger at the massive corruption that marked the end of the Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo administration. That anger crystallized into something more focused and personal after the death of his mother, former President Cory Aquino, in August 2009. Millions of Filipinos who had marched, cried, and lined the streets during her funeral saw in Noynoy a continuation of a moral promise. Not perfection, but integrity.

And to his credit, he largely delivered.

Throughout his six years in Malacañang, PNoy held fast to a simple but powerful axiom: “Kung walang corrupt, walang mahirap” (If there were no corrupt, there would be no poor). He did not eradicate corruption, no president ever has, but he pushed it back. Significantly.

Under his watch, the Philippines posted some of its best scores on global corruption indices. Credit rating agencies upgraded the country to investment grade, something that once seemed like a distant fantasy. That was not abstract validation. It translated to lower borrowing costs, more investor confidence, and more room for public spending on projects that actually benefited the people.

The results were tangible. Hundreds of thousands of classrooms were built. Millions of jobs were created. Billions of dollars in investments flowed in. The economy steadily grew, and for a while the famous Filipino optimism felt grounded in something real and tangible.

Of course, PNoy was not without flaws. He was often criticized for being aloof, especially in moments of national tragedy like “Yolanda” and Mamasapano. He was never the warmest or most emotionally expressive leader. But history has a way of sharpening perspective. Leadership is not just about how you emote in moments of crisis, but about how effectively you solve problems, both in the moment, and in the systems you build in response.

And yet, in the years that followed his presidency, his legacy was dragged through the mud. He was mocked, caricatured and blamed for everything — from the traffic to the bad weather. Entire online ecosystems were built to erase context and replace it with sneers. It says more about us than about him that someone who served with such restraint and selflessness became such an easy target.

Ironically, the corruption scandals now engulfing the government have helped to clear the fog. As Filipinos watch trillions vanish, see officials squirm under investigation, and hear excuse after excuse collapse, many are looking back at PNoy’s time with clearer eyes. Not a view through rose-colored lenses, just a more honest one.

What people seem to miss is not a personality, but a standard. The idea that a president does not steal. That competence matters. That quiet seriousness is more desirable than empty theatrics. That public office is not a shortcut to wealth or immunity.

In 2009, public outrage against corruption opened the door for a leader like Noynoy Aquino. Today, we find ourselves in a familiar place again. Angry. Tired. Disillusioned.

Maybe today remembering PNoy is not just about honoring the past. Maybe it is about reminding ourselves that a different kind of leadership is possible. And that when the moment comes, we should be brave enough to choose it again.