— What We Have Is Not a Strategy. It’s a Souvenir.
Let’s start with a fable.
Once upon a time in the archipelago, a group of technocrats asked the nation:
“Where do you want to be in 25 years?”
And the people said:
We want to be secure.
We want to be comfortable.
We want to be respected, healthy, together, whole.
We want jobs that pay.
We want streets that don’t flood.
We want leaders who serve and stay honest.
We want, in short, a life worth living—without needing to leave the country or win a visa lottery.
And so, the government gathered this collective yearning into a document called AmBisyon Natin 2040.
It was bright. It was hopeful. It was cleanly formatted.
A ribbon-wrapped hallucination meant to unite us under a banner of possibility.
“AmBisyon Natin 2040 is different from a plan… it is like a destination.”
(COBP-PHI-2021–2023, p. 1) — ADB Source PDF
Translation?
It’s not a plan. It’s a Pinterest board.
A vision without scaffolding.
A dream no one signed up to build.
A national mural of wants—framed but never wired for electricity.
It is the kind of document you read once at a summit and quote forever, without ever funding it.
It makes for good speeches and better brochures. But governance? That’s someone else’s problem.
Can’t imagine how many times the jackasses that created this crap patted themselves on the back and told themselves, “Yes, we are saving the Philippines.”
The Signature With No Contract
It was launched in 2016, just as President Benigno Aquino III’s term was ending.
A legacy flourish. The kind technocrats love: elegant language, pretty charts, and no accountability.
A way to be remembered without the burden of implementation.
But this is the Philippines. Here, visions don’t transcend presidencies.
They expire with them.
Because in our political culture, visions are co-terminus—just like appointments, budgets, and institutional memory.
So what came next?
Enter Duterte: Fury Without Foresight
Rodrigo Duterte came in like a wrecking ball, powered by rage, unbothered by vision.
He didn’t cancel AmBisyon. He just ignored it.
Ghosted it.
Like a number saved but never dialed.
He governed from the gut, not from a manual.
Infrastructure was his religion—but planning? That was someone else’s job.
So AmBisyon floated in the background.
Cited by economists, forgotten by everyone else.
The country built roads. But where were we going? No one asked.
Enter Marcos Jr.: Continuity With No Pulse
Then came Ferdinand Marcos Jr.—a man fluent in style and ambiguity.
He mentions AmBisyon in speeches.
Drops it into decks.
Quotes it like a family heirloom he never actually read.
But is it guiding policy?
Is it driving budgets?
Are agencies measured by it?
No. Because what we have isn’t continuity—it’s continuity theater.
A set design of progress.
A backdrop of commitment.
No action in the wings.
In fact, AmBisyon today serves more as ceremonial wallpaper—rolled out during conferences, only to be quietly tucked away when it’s time to actually decide something.
The phrases are still there. The substance is not.
“Realizing the AmBisyon”: Reading the Fine Print
Let’s look at what the document actually says.
1. “Filipinos live in a prosperous, predominantly middle-class society where no one is poor.”
Wonderful. So where’s the roadmap? Who’s tracking poverty elimination? What mechanisms? What funding? What teeth?
This isn’t a strategy. It’s a slogan in a power suit.
We’ve been promising the end of poverty since every president discovered how microphones work. Still, here we are.
2. “People live long and healthy lives.”
It suggests policies promoting “work-life balance.”
Great. Try telling that to jeepney drivers with no healthcare or barangay health centers with no medicine.
What’s the plan? Who owns it? Where’s the DOH’s mandate?
Where’s the investment in public health, the funding for hospitals, the recruitment of doctors for underserved provinces?
Work-life balance only exists if you have work and life to begin with.
3. “Filipinos are smart and innovative.”
Yes, let’s “revise the curriculum.” Maybe. That’s their word—maybe.
Innovation isn’t built on maybe. It’s built on bandwidth, classrooms, and paychecks.
How do we become an innovation economy when our teachers are underpaid, our students are under-equipped, and our schools are collapsing?
4. “Filipinos live in a high-trust society.”
Trust must be earned. Not printed in brochures.
The document says the government must become “clean, fair, and citizen-centered.”
When? With what mechanism? Who’s accountable for cleaning up corruption?
Filipinos have been told to trust institutions for decades—while institutions quietly betray that trust in procurement, in favoritism, in silence.
5. “Economic growth must be relevant, inclusive and sustainable.”
They list sectors like it’s a Sunday market: manufacturing, finance, agriculture, tourism.
This isn’t a strategy. It’s a shopping list with no prices and no cashier.
There’s no prioritization. No investment strategy. No clear state direction.
Just the warm glow of buzzwords, designed to offend no one and commit to nothing.
6. “A high-trust society equals a matatag na pamayanan.”
It says every Filipino should “feel upset if another is poor.” That’s nice.
But moral guilt is not policy.
Hunger doesn’t end with feelings.
Where is the structure? Where is the redistribution?
There’s a difference between volunteerism and governance.
The former is noble. The latter is necessary.
7. “Government must ensure economic growth is broad-based across sectors and regions.”
Agreed. But we’ve heard that for decades. Where’s the decentralization that actually funds the provinces?
Without resource control, regional growth is fiction.
So long as everything flows to Metro Manila, “inclusive” is just a press release term for “we’ll think about you next time.”
Each section of AmBisyon reads like a commencement speech.
Noble. Stirring. Useless in battle.
There’s no enforcement. No binding targets. No KPIs. No budget mandates. No consequences for failure.
This isn’t governance. It’s national journaling.
And Me? I’m Not With Any of Them
Let me be clear.
No—I am not a Duterte fan.
No—I am not a Marcos loyalist.
No—I am not an Aquino apologist.
Yes, I once supported Leni Robredo. For a moment, she seemed to carry the moral clarity we needed.
But then came the silence. The shrinking. The polite exit into a mayoralty.
I am not looking for heroes. I’m looking for conviction.
For someone who doesn’t mistake good intentions for good governance.
And so I ask:
Where is the national passion to wake this country up?
Where are the leaders who still believe in nation-building that doesn’t come with a hashtag?
Where is the plan that outlives a president?
Where is the outrage that builds something?
Because I?
I am for the Filipino who suffers in every new administration.
The one who watches ribbon cuttings, but no results.
The one who sees promises printed and forgotten.
The one who keeps hoping—because what else is left?
Final Word
We don’t need another laminated dream.
We need discipline. Accountability. Policy with teeth.
But instead, we created a postcard.
And yes—we probably spent millions creating this crap.
Millions for a document no one is required to follow.
Millions to dream in public and forget in private.
Millions to say “we care” while we stall the budget for public schools and rural health.
We mailed ourselves AmBisyon Natin 2040 like a love letter to a version of the Philippines we refuse to build—because building hurts, and dreaming is cheaper.
And why?
Because our leaders don’t think beyond their term.
Not about you.
Not about me.
Just about surviving six years—then walking away like it never happened.
They live for being remembered like God’s second coming, but govern like they’re managing a barangay raffle.
They want statues, not systems.
Libraries named after them, not lives changed by them.
Read the full document here. Then ask: Where is the plan? Who will outlive it?
Post Note: What does “AmBisyon” mean?
“AmBisyon” is a stylized Filipino wordplay combining ambisyon (ambition) and bisyon (vision). It literally means “ambition,” but in this context, it’s used as both a dream of the future and a directional hope for national progress.
Disclaimer: These words are mine. But the exhaustion? That belongs to all of us.