Concerned government officials, once again caught red-handed in anomalous deals, are walking away unscathed while ordinary Filipinos toil under backbreaking taxes. This has sparked outrage, reaching a point where patience is fraying thin and the nation teeters on the edge of collective fury. The Filipino public, weary and betrayed, is no longer inclined to turn the other cheek.

We have seen corruption before, yes—but never has it metamorphosed so openly, so shamelessly, in the public eye. Senators embroiled in pork barrel scandals, cabinet members tainted by overpriced projects, and local leaders fattening their pockets from ghost projects: these are no longer whispers of rumor but facts laid bare by investigative reports, COA audits, and even Senate hearings broadcast live. The brazenness is staggering. Politicians have become so accustomed to impunity that they parade their wealth with vulgar display—convoys of SUVs, lavish mansions, children studying abroad—while millions of Filipinos line up at community pantries just to get by.

Corruption in this country is not a hidden termite gnawing quietly at the foundations. It is a ravenous beast that devours in broad daylight, daring anyone to stop it. And the people, after decades of endurance, may finally be sharpening their claws. Indonesia has already shown the way, with students and workers taking to the streets in Jakarta to protest against leaders who enriched themselves while the nation suffered. We Filipinos are not blind neighbors. We are watching, comparing, measuring our own patience against theirs. The trigger has not been pulled here yet, but the hand is trembling.

What makes this situation unbearable is not merely the stealing of money. It is the stealing of futures. Every peso lost to corruption is a classroom not built, a hospital left in ruins, a rice subsidy that never reaches the hungry. Worse, these debts balloon with the passing of time. And when the last centavo is accounted for, the corrupt will be gone—jetting off to safer havens, their loot stashed in foreign banks—leaving the poor farmer in Leyte and the street vendor in Tacloban to shoulder the burden of repayment. It is the same old story of betrayal, repeated across administrations, a cycle that corrodes the very idea of governance.

At this stage, Filipinos are not simply angry—they are exhausted. The daily grind already demands so much, yet they must also watch as their hard-earned taxes vanish like smoke. The erosion of patience is near total; citizens no longer believe that “good governance” is possible within the present setup. This cynicism is dangerous, for once faith in institutions collapses, people will seek other ways to right the wrongs. History tells us that revolts are not born from hunger alone but from the insult of injustice heaped upon it.

I cannot help but note the symbolism of volcanoes in our land. They lie dormant for decades, even centuries, gathering pressure in silence, until the day they erupt with unrelenting force. The Filipino spirit is much the same—quiet, forgiving, endlessly patient. But every dormant volcano has its breaking point. And when it happens, it will not be a polite negotiation but an explosion that reshapes the landscape. Corrupt leaders who ignore this truth do so at their own peril.

Humor, too, creeps in amidst the rage. One wonders: do these corrupt officials think they are invisible? Their swollen bellies and sudden fortunes say otherwise. They are like carabaos trying to disguise themselves as goats—obvious, lumbering, impossible to hide. And yet, the absurdity is that many still get reelected, as if the electorate has resigned itself to a cruel joke. But even jokes, when repeated too often, stop being funny.

So where do we go from here? Certainly, violent upheaval is a path that comes with enormous risk, but neither can we sit idle as corruption continues to metastasize. The wiser course is sustained vigilance: mass mobilization, stronger laws, public accountability, fearless journalism, and a citizenry unafraid to demand justice in the streets if all else fails. Let the corrupt hear this clearly—the Filipino has been patient, yes, but not endlessly so. The volcano rumbles, and the people are listening to its call.

In the social media the storm is gathering speed , gathering mass and it’s the moral awakening of Filipinos against the systemic corruption of flood control projects and other malaise.

In the heart of Southeast Asia, a quiet storm is brewing—not of typhoons or monsoons, but of people rising with conviction. From the flood-prone barangays of the Philippines to the bustling streets of Jakarta, citizens are demanding accountability, transparency, and justice. What drives this collective unrest? It’s more than politics—it’s a moral phenomenon rooted in lived experience and philosophical belief.

In the halls of the Senate, the Senators themselves are tiptoeing on the ledge as the problems can burn them, expose them in a way.

In the Philippines, flood control has become a symbol of broken trust. Billions of pesos allocated to protect communities from disaster have vanished into ghost projects—roads that lead nowhere, drainage systems that never functioned. For residents in places like Eastern Visayas, this isn’t just a budget issue—it’s personal. Every rainy season brings fear, displacement, and loss. When the government fails to deliver, it’s not just infrastructure that collapses—it’s dignity.

For most of the Filipinos the indignation is confined in the Socmed arena . In Indonesia , it’s a more of a hands-on reality . Protesters storming houses of officials . Meanwhile, in Indonesia, the streets echo with chants for reform. The death of Affan Kurniawan, a young man killed during a protest, became a rallying cry. Students, workers, and everyday citizens are calling out systemic abuse, from police brutality to elite impunity. Their resistance is not rooted in ideology alone—it’s grounded in a shared sense of injustice.
With us the, shaming of the Nepo babies are there, but not enough to create a major stir, just enough to scratch the surface of the malady called corruption.

It is my hope that the Moral Momentum will go higher than the usual trending of which it ebbs down to become a thing of the past . Its my hope that we can muster at least half of Indons courage.

WE should have no doubt about this. We may at first be scared when Christ told his disciples, and now us, “If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children and brethren, and sisters, yes and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever does not carry his cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple.” (Lk 14,26-27)

We have to be most careful when considering these strong words of Christ who even went to the extent of commanding us to love our enemies. What he is actually trying to tell us that is that for us to be truly his disciple, to be fully identified with him, especially in the task of continuing the work of human redemption, we have to give our all to him. Nothing and no one should undermine that proper relation we ought to have with him.

We have been assured that as long as we are with him, everything else in our life will be taken care of. “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness,” he said, “and all these things shall be added to you. Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” (Mt 6,33-34)
God, who created everything and loves them all the way, even to the extent of becoming man and offering his life for us and for our sins, cannot tell us to hate anyone or anything. When Christ says about “hate,” referring to our parents and loved ones, he must have meant it as us not making anyone and anything to undermine our love for him.

To be a true disciple of Christ, to be a full Christian as we should be, involves a certain detachment from people and things, a certain emptying of ourselves to be properly filled with what is proper to us—the very spirit of God in whose image and likeness we have been created, and in whose life and nature we meant to share.

Yes, in a certain sense, our life here on earth can be described as a matter of emptying ourselves of our own selves, of our own egos, and of any worldly attachment, so we can be filled with God, with love, which is what is proper to us.

We can somehow know that we are truly emptying ourselves properly when we can also see a certain growth of love and practical concern for the others, even if great sacrifices are involved. It’s when we would be willing to complicate our life for God and for the others that we can say we properly emptying ourselves and filling ourselves with the spirit of God.
To be sure, to give ourselves completely to God and to others is not easy. We need nothing less than the grace of God and our generous and prompt correspondence to it. But it’s not impossible.

We just have to learn to give ourselves to God and others more and more each day. We can ask ourselves, for example, “Today, what can I give more to God and to the others?” “What else have I been keeping to myself rather than giving it away to God and to the others?”

For sure, we will have some answers to those questions and start to act on them. In this way, the attitude and practice of giving our all, even if in instalment basis, can be achieved.
Let us not fail to see the best deal Christ is proposing to us.