Normally, a newly elected congressman would arrive at the House of Representatives in a gleaming car, park it with a smirk, and say, “This is just the beginning.” He hadn’t even warmed his seat, but he already spoke like he had won the lottery. This is the twisted glamour of Philippine politics: enter the halls of power not to serve—but to cash in.
I grew up believing that public office was sacred. That the mayors and governors we greeted at important events were guardians of the people’s trust. But as I aged—and watched how election losers fell into debt while winners suddenly grew rice mills, beach resorts, and new last names for mistresses—I realized I had mistaken the masquerade for the mission. Many politicians in this country run not for public service but for personal upgrade. To them, politics is the fastest way out of poverty or mediocrity, the easiest highway to wealth without the usual tolls of hard work or genius. The campaign is just the ritual. The real goal? Get in, and then get rich.
The tragedy is that these individuals wear the robe of “public servant” like a disguise, mouthing the right slogans while their eyes scan the budgets and contracts. The problem isn’t just individual greed—it’s systemic tolerance. Our political culture, drenched in patronage and celebrity worship, does not reward the honest. It celebrates cunning. It makes heroes out of those who distribute rice and sardines during calamities—only because they own the warehouses. The whole system is a circus, and we keep electing the clowns, mistaking their laughter for kindness.
Even barangay captains nowadays have bodyguards and booming sound systems announcing their every move. They build basketball courts not to encourage youth sports but to paste their names on the backboards. That’s not public service; that’s branding.
That’s early campaigning. I’ve seen tricycle drivers who campaigned for candidates given nothing after elections, while the elected officials’ nephews land fat contracts to supply overpriced school chairs. No wonder young people think politics is a business venture. You invest a few million in campaign spending, and if you win, you reap billions in return. Why bother with entrepreneurship when government positions offer quicker returns?
We keep saying politics should be about sacrifice. But here, it’s more like a reward for loyalty to warlords and party bosses. You get in not by your ideas but by who sponsors your candidacy. Most campaign promises are a buffet of lies, and the people swallow them like lechon on fiesta day—sweet and delicious, but bound to rot in the gut. And when the indigestion begins, when funds for roads, hospitals, and schools disappear into ghost projects, we find ourselves surprised, as if we didn’t know how the trick was done.
To be fair, not all politicians are devils in barong. There are rare souls who mean what they say, who win without cheating, who serve without stealing. But they are often drowned out by the noise of the majority—the noise of self-congratulating officials who think ribbon cuttings and feeding programs once a year absolve them of sin. Worse, honest politicians are usually ganged up on, labeled naive or even “not pragmatic enough.” It’s as if honesty is an oddity, not a requirement.
And so, we live in this exhausting loop: elect, regret, repeat. Our politics breeds dynasties, like snakes that shed their skin only to reveal the same fangs beneath. Families pass power like heirlooms, with sons and daughters stepping in as congressmen, governors, even presidents. If you’re born with the right surname, you’re halfway to Malacañang. But if you’re a brilliant, hardworking nobody—well, good luck with your Sangguniang Kabataan dreams.
Perhaps the only way to break this cycle is to raise a generation that sees public office not as a jackpot, but a job. We must start rewarding ideas, not surnames. Celebrate integrity, not image. And maybe, just maybe, when enough of us stop worshiping political drama and start demanding quiet, consistent work—we’ll finally stop electing crooks in nice suits. Not by another revolution. Just by remembering that we don’t need more leaders who want to get rich—we need leaders who don’t mind staying poor if it means doing what’s right.
