Through floods, storms, and long walks, Rey learned that storytelling is not just performance but presence, showing up even when conditions say otherwise, because children kept showing up too.
Power remains, but momentum slips, as the presidency of Ferdinand Marcos Jr. drifts from direction to reaction, showing how leadership can weaken without a crisis.
Publicly floating persona non grata threats turns a precise diplomatic tool into applause politics, shifting focus from Chinese misconduct to domestic noise and weakening the very authority the state is meant to protect.
Trust isn’t just an outcome in the Philippines; it’s a deeply ingrained relational practice. With political leaders often seen through the lens of personal actions rather than policies, how can we cultivate a more robust framework for accountability?
Censorship often arrives cloaked in a professional tone, as seen in the PCO's recent media accreditation attempt. The withdrawal may quell immediate backlash, but it reveals a deeper challenge ahead: ensuring journalistic freedom is respected in an era when access to information can be easily restricted.
In a landscape where trust is shaped by emotion rather than evidence, Vice President Sara Duterte's enduring popularity prompts a critical reflection. What does it say about the Philippines when trust in leaders transcends accountability? The structural dynamics of loyalty and emotion in politics reveal much about our collective psyche.
The conflict between Marcos Jr. and Duterte is not just a political rift. It's a barrier to effective governance. As media narrates their feud, we must ask: how is this impacting the lives of everyday Filipinos? Let's shift the focus to what truly matters.
“Kung sino pa ‘yung may matinong nagawa sa bayan, siya pa ang nasa loob.” This sentiment encapsulates how Duterte's followers perceive his legal troubles as a form of martyrdom, cementing his place within Philippine political culture's complex landscape.
“Itama ang Mali” — but whose mali are we correcting, and whose version of tama are we being asked to believe? When symbols of power wear black and speak of suffering, we must ask: are they mourning with us, or mourning the truth?