As the bells of the Antipolo Cathedral rang out this 1st of January for the Binyagang Bayan, 13 families stood beneath the high altar, celebrating the beginning of faith and community. It is a timeless scene, a snapshot of the Filipino soul anchoring itself to tradition. Yet, as a columnist who has spent years dissecting the intersection of policy and the common man, I couldn’t help but look at those infants and wonder about the “Digital Baptism” that awaits them.
Unlike the generations before them, these children will enter a world where their first “social” interactions may not be with kith or kin, but with algorithms designed in Silicon Valley or Shanghai. They are being born into an era where their identity is harvested before they can even speak their first word. This brings us to the first pillar of our 2026 theme: The Conscience of the Code.
We have entered a period where automation is no longer a futuristic luxury but a daily gatekeeper. From the “approve” button on a micro-loan app to the facial recognition software in our borders, the “code” governs our lives.
But does the code have a conscience? Recent history suggests otherwise. We’ve seen the Supreme Court recently penalize digital lenders for predatory data privacy breaches — a hard-won victory for the “little guy” against the faceless, automated machine. It was a reminder that while technology moves at the speed of light, justice must move with the weight of moral absolutes.
Yet, the challenge for 2026 remains: how do we ensure that our aggressive push for a “Digital Philippines” doesn’t inadvertently become a digital divide? As we commemorate the 455th founding of Carigara, Leyte, this month, we are reminded of a heritage that has survived centuries of colonial shifts, natural disasters and political upheavals. The reason Carigara stands today is that its foundations were built with soul and communal longevity. Our digital infrastructure must be built with that same spirit.
We cannot allow “modernization” to become a euphemism for exclusion. A government app that crashes on a five-year-old smartphone — the kind used by our farmers and fisherfolk — is not progress; it is a digital wall. We must demand Radical Accountability in the tech space. We cannot simply digitize our old vices. Let’s be clear: a “pork barrel” is still a “pork barrel,” even if it is hidden in the sophisticated cells of a cloud-based spreadsheet or buried under an opaque budget “incentive” for tech hubs.
This year, the Gavel will strike against the “monsters” who use automation to obscure corruption. We must demand that our platforms serve the “C-level” Filipinos — the Commuters stuck in traffic, the Consumers battling inflation and the Citizens seeking basic services — not just the coders, the conglomerates and the consultants.
The digital world must be a tool for empowerment, not a playground for the predatory. As we welcome the new year, let us pledge to imbue our technology with the same values we witnessed at the Antipolo altar: transparency, protection of the vulnerable and a deep, unshakeable sense of community. The code is written by men; therefore, it must be governed by the conscience of men.