Having grown accustomed to scandals over the years, the public appears to be holding its breath—some in anger, some in fatigue. But if corruption continues to drain this nation and the powerful remain deaf to moral responsibility, the repercussions more catastrophic than outrage may fall upon them.
Filipino society has corroded so much with corruption that it now operates like static white noise—it is always there but not heard. Every term starts with boasts of reform and is followed by exposes of thievery. The scandals are long and circuitous: the fertilizer fund scam, the pork barrel plunder, the overpriced Pharmally scandal, and the recent din over confidential funds used for dubious purposes. The same scenario repeats: money disappears, fingers are pointed around, and justice is lost in the next news cycle. This constant trickle of fraud eats away not only the nation’s coffers but also the people’s trust in democracy.
The irony bites. The nation that once set the world ablaze with the fire of EDSA—the people power uprising that overthrew a dictator—now also appears too exhausted to rise again. Filipinos wait in the sun for hours for government doles, as ruling politicians squander the money of the people on political bickering and consumption excess. The long-tested patience of the people, stretched thin for decades, is beginning to fray. And history has borne witness to the fact that where anger and hunger meet, the street is the final court of justice.
But one must appreciate that the Filipino is not easily revolutionized. Patience is a national quality—a sometimes weakness. Years of injustice, humiliation, and betrayal pass before the people cry, “Enough is enough”. The initial People Power did not emerge overnight; it culminated years of repression, corruption, and moral decay. Now the same symptoms are manifesting again, but slicker, more insidious—protected by legalities, covered by propaganda, and submerged in spectacle. But deception, no matter how stylishly dressed, will eventually betray itself.
Unless the government views corruption as more than just a nagging irritant, but a moral sickness, it unwittingly raises the subsequent rebellion. People power doesn’t need to be declared; it simmers from within—rice-and-fish talk, jeepneys and street stalls, the disenchantment of students and workers who have been disappointed with those to whom they handed over the reins. Once the disgust of individuals crystallizes into courage, the streets will resound once more with the voice of moral sanity. It is not that everywhere it will be 1986 again, but it will be the same in effect: a call for decency.
The reason why the crisis is now more explosive is that news travels faster than conscience. Social media, though tainted with lies, can also spread truth. It can rally hundreds of thousands within minutes, start movements overnight, and scare giants with fear of exposure. The government, if it is deaf to the undertone of the people’s mood, would soon be aware of the reality that the cyber din it dismisses can be converted into a street din. Deceit and denial are no longer the recipe since the days when ordinary people used to record and broadcast injustice in real time.
Nevertheless, a new people power cannot be romanticized if it is ever to materialize. Revolution is not a fiesta but a recourse of the desperate, which is resorted to because institutions have broken down. Nobody wants anarchy, but nobody should also settle for perpetual corruption in the name of peace. It is only justice that brings absolute stability, not quite. Suppose the political class continues to disrespect the intelligence of the people with empty words and selective justice. In that case, they will have no option but to allow citizens to reclaim what was taken away from them—not in dollars and cents but in dignity.
The preferable alternative, of course, is prevention. The government must stop playing at reform as a slogan and begin mopping up its backyard. Transparency is no longer optional, accountability is no longer a choice, and prosecution of those who have done wrong is no longer politicized. The masses don’t need a revolution; they need results. But if politicians continue to confuse patience with weakness, they will learn, earlier, that a weary nation, once pushed to the brink, can again convert its silence into thunder.
