Idolatry of our ruin

We have spent decades waiting for a messiah in a barong, convinced that the right name on a ballot can single-handedly dismantle a system built to fail us. From silver-tongued populists to polished technocrats, we tether our hopes to individual stars while the constellation of our democracy continues to collapse.

But here is the uncomfortable truth: no political icon is coming to save us because no single person has that power. We are trapped in a cycle of failed leadership not for lack of “great men,” but because we have outsourced our civic responsibility to idols. It’s time to stop looking to the podium for a savior and start looking in the mirror for a citizen. The only way to break the cycle is to realize that the hero we’ve been waiting for is us.

Take a hard look at the news from this past week. On Wednesday night, 13 May, gunshots echoed through the halls of the Philippine Senate. It wasn’t a foreign invasion — it was the chaotic climax of a standoff involving Senator Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa who had spent the last few days holed up in the building to evade an ICC arrest warrant.

While the elite treat our highest legislative chamber like a fortified bunker, the rest of the country is left to wonder when our institutions became playgrounds for those fleeing the law. It was a nauseating sight: the very people who claim to represent “law and order” hiding behind the skirts of parliamentary immunity while the streets bleed.

This theater of the absurd plays out against a backdrop of institutional rot that borders on the criminal. Last Tuesday, the Senate Blue Ribbon Committee released a progress report on the 22-billion-peso flood control scam. The findings were not just disappointing; they were a death sentence.

“Parasitic” corruption networks have hollowed out our disaster defenses to the point where billions have vanished into “ghost” projects. We are literally drowning so that a few families can live in luxury. Yet, the report languishes, short of the signatures needed from senators who are seemingly more interested in protecting their peers than the children who will be swept away in the next monsoon.

Meanwhile, on Monday, 11 May, the House of Representatives voted overwhelmingly to impeach Vice President Sara Duterte. Whether you see this as a necessary reckoning or a calculated political execution, the reality for the Filipino people is a cold, hard slap in the face.

The gears of government have ground to a halt to accommodate a blood feud between dynasties. While they play their Game of Thrones, the “Kalinga” of the state is nowhere to be found for the Filipino worker struggling to buy a kilo of rice.

We are a nation in the dark. Just this Wednesday, as the Visayas grid buckled under red and yellow alerts, millions sat in the stifling heat, watching their meager groceries rot in powerless refrigerators.

We live in a country where the cost of living is a slow execution. We endure the indignity of crumbling transport, the sting of inflation and the grave injustice of seeing the same faces — those who have presided over our decline — rebranded as our “only hope” every election cycle.

Our greatest sin is our loyalty. We have become fans instead of citizens. We cheer for political brands like they are basketball teams, excusing the corruption of “our side” while foaming at the mouth over the sins of “the other.” We have forgotten that these officials are not our masters nor are they our saviors — they are our employees. When we treat them like gods, we shouldn’t be surprised when they treat us like sacrifices.

It is heart wrenching to realize that the Filipino spirit, known for its resilience, has been weaponized against us. We are told to “endure,” to “smile through the rain,” while those in power steal the umbrellas. But resilience without resistance is just submission.

The cycle of failed leadership will never end if we remain as spectators. Patriotism isn’t about wearing a flag pin or defending a personality — it’s about demanding better for the person standing next to you in the rain. Stop waiting for a “Strongman” or a “Mother of the Nation” to fix your life. They won’t. They are too busy securing their own legacies.

The hero of the Filipino story is not the one behind the police lines at the Senate. It is the father walking kilometers because he can’t afford the jeepney fare; it is the mother skipping a meal so her child can have one. You are the power. You are the sovereign. Wake up. The messiah is a myth. The power is yours. Use it to break the idols or prepare to drown in the next flood they failed to prevent.