This irony is painful: those who claim to fight for the people are often bleeding them dry. It is a tragedy of our politics that many who should never be in government are sitting in its chambers, while the few who deserve to be there are shut out by corruption, greed, and dirty politics.
This country’s politics has become a cruel joke, and the punchline is always on the people. We elect thieves disguised as servants, liars dressed as reformists, and opportunists cloaked in patriotism. Some party-list representatives—supposedly voices of the marginalized—use their seats to enrich their families and fortify their own power blocs. They wage war against the very government they belong to, feeding on public funds while cursing the hands that feed them. They thrive on chaos because chaos sustains their false relevance. The irony burns like salt on a wound: enemies of the state living off the state, pretending to serve while plotting its downfall.
The tragedy does not end there. For every corrupt official who steals his way into power, there is a good man somewhere who cannot even get near the door of government service. Some tried and failed—not because they lacked ability or sincerity, but because politics in this country is often less about merit and more about machinery. Others never even tried, knowing too well that in a system rigged by dynasties and patronage, a clean name and an honest heart are not enough to win. The gates of public service are guarded not by virtue, but by influence and wealth.
Seeing how the system rewards the cunning and punishes the sincere is disheartening. Those who speak the truth are branded as troublemakers, while those who peddle lies are hailed as “strategic.” When a decent man stands for public service, the machinery of deceit moves swiftly to discredit him. The voters, misled by glittering promises and paid propagandists, end up voting for the very crooks who mock them behind closed doors. The moral compass of our politics has long been broken, and it points now to whoever can afford the cost of winning.
What makes this irony even sadder is that good men exist—they are teachers, doctors, farmers, workers, priests, journalists, and civil servants quietly doing honest work far from the spotlight. They know the value of every peso and the weight of every promise. But they are invisible in a system that glorifies noise over substance, image over integrity. They are the kind of people who, if given the chance, could clean up the mess that now suffocates us. Yet they are kept at bay, as though their honesty threatens the status quo.
Our politics has become an inverted pyramid, standing on its tip—unstable, absurd, and bound to fall. Those at the top, bloated with privilege, keep feeding on the sweat of those below. And when the structure begins to shake, they call for unity and sacrifice, as if the people had not sacrificed enough. The irony here is biblical: the first have become last in moral worth, and the previous, who toil and bleed, are denied their rightful place in the governance of their own nation.
But this is not mere fate; it is a condition we have allowed. Every vote cast without discernment, every silence in the face of wrongdoing, every compromise made for convenience builds the throne upon which the corrupt sit. We cannot blame only those in power when we ourselves helped build their ladder. The truth hurts, but it must be said: the government reflects the governed. The rot in our politics mirrors the apathy of the people.
If the wrong people are in power and the right ones are left out, then it is time to change how power is given. We must learn to choose better, guard the gates of government more wisely, and refuse to be fooled by hollow slogans and rehearsed tears. Let merit, integrity, and public good—not money or deceit—determine who serves. We must end this sad irony where the undeserving rule the land and the worthy are kept outside its doors.
