One of the least-known facts about the Philippine government is that weather bureau PAGASA once had a UFO — Unidentified Flying Object — investigation unit.
Yes, really.
At the turn of the millennium, while the rest of us were worrying about Y2K and brownouts, PAGASA maintained a UFO Investigating Team headed by Elmor Escosia.
The unit looked into reports of mysterious lights, strange objects, and supposed extraterrestrial visitors, interviewed witnesses, analyzed sightings and generally separated flying saucers from overactive imaginations.
Its conclusions were disappointingly terrestrial.
Many sightings turned out to be reflections, meteors, satellites, aircraft and other explainable phenomena. As Escosia himself noted, the possibility of UFOs existed, but there was no proof.
Until now.
US President Donald Trump recently ordered the release of another tranche of UAPs — Unidentified Aerial Phenomena, the modern bureaucratic label for UFOs — because if the government cannot find the aliens, it can at least rename them.
Hundreds of documents, photographs, and videos have begun emerging from US government vaults under a disclosure initiative marketed as a quest for the truth.
The result? The extraterrestrials must be deeply disappointed.
After decades of anticipation, speculation, and cable television documentaries narrated by men with suspiciously dramatic voices, the latest revelations consisted largely of blurry images, unresolved incidents and material that enthusiasts have been arguing about for years.
No alien ambassador had stepped out of a spacecraft. No Martian trade agreement was unveiled. No little gray fellow has appeared before Congress demanding voting rights.
What did appear was something far more familiar: politics.
Critics immediately accused Trump of engaging in a classic smoke-and-mirrors maneuver — tossing a shiny flying saucer into the public square while less flattering headlines buzzed around him.
One must admit it was a step up from a ribbon-cutting ceremony. UFOs possess all the qualities politicians dream of.
They are endlessly intriguing, impossible to conclusively disprove, and capable of generating arguments that will continue for decades without producing a single answer.
They are the perfect public policy issue because they require no public policy. Inflation demands solutions. Crime demands action. Housing shortages demand financing. UFOs merely demand speculation.
The beauty of the phenomenon lies in its flexibility. If the files contain nothing remarkable, believers will insist the real evidence remains hidden.
If they contain something unusual, believers will claim disclosure has begun. Heads they win, tails everyone else loses.
Politicians understand this. So do television producers. So do internet influencers who somehow stretch a smudge on a windshield into three hours of content.
Meanwhile, back in the real world, people continue to pay taxes, endure the traffic and wonder why the lines at government offices still move at approximately the speed of the continental drift.
Perhaps PAGASA had the right approach all along. Investigate the mystery. Examine the evidence. Keep an open mind. But remember that unexplained does not automatically mean extraterrestrial.
Especially in politics.
Sometimes the strange object streaking across the sky is not a spacecraft from another galaxy. Sometimes it is merely a shiny object launched from much closer to home.
And this column is no exception.
Consider it a brief detour into the cosmos while politics here continues to resemble a badly written science-fiction serial: Imee taking potshots at her brother, speculation over whether Bato is next for takeoff, and endless guessing on whether Sara will survive impeachment to seek the presidency and settle scores over Digong’s free trip to The Hague.
Compared to all that, the little green men seem perfectly normal. At least they have the decency to remain unidentified.