I’m sorry, Philippines. I love you. But we need to talk. We are bad at choosing our leaders. Not just bad — catastrophically, world-class bad. Other countries have bad elections. We have recurring nightmares.
This Is Not New — It’s a National Pastime
We’ve been miscasting our presidents since the Commonwealth. We had Manuel Quezon, brilliant orator, champion of the Filipino language… and also a man who thought politics was a personal network of friends and enemies rather than a system. Then we had Jose Laurel, who looked good in a suit and ran a government — for the Japanese. After the war, we welcomed back Sergio Osmeña for his seniority, but not enough to actually keep him in office because we liked the war hero glow of Manuel Roxas better, baggage and all.
We turned Carlos P. Garcia into president because he happened to be standing next to Magsaysay when tragedy struck. We picked Diosdado Macapagal for his “poor boy from Lubao” image, then threw him out for a young, smooth-talking Ferdinand Marcos who turned out to be less “visionary statesman” and more “kleptocrat with martial law powers.”
And then we re-elected him. Twice. Because in the Philippines, history doesn’t repeat — we do.
People Power and the Short Memory
In 1986, we pulled off something extraordinary. We threw out a dictator with nothing but people, prayers, and the promise of democracy. We had the world’s attention. And then… we went right back to our old habits. We fought over Cory Aquino’s governance as if she alone could rebuild a country that had been systematically gutted for two decades.
We elected Fidel Ramos — a general from Marcos’ inner circle — because he smiled, built roads, and made cellphones cool. Then Joseph Estrada because he cried on cue and drank with jeepney drivers. The man was impeached for plunder, and we still mourned him like a folk hero.
2000s: Reality TV Politics
By the 2000s, our elections were indistinguishable from a noontime show. Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo took over after Erap’s fall — then couldn’t resist cheating to stay in power. We replaced her with Benigno Aquino III, whose main credential was being the son of democracy icons. And when PNoy’s term ended, we went for Rodrigo Duterte because we wanted someone “tough on crime,” never mind the death toll.
And then — in a plot twist too absurd for fiction — we brought Marcos back. Not the father, but the son. As if the family name was a software brand we wanted to “try again.”
Why We Keep Doing This
We pretend the problem is the system. But the system is us. We sell our votes — sometimes for cash, sometimes for a grocery bag, sometimes for the privilege of being ignored for three more years. We choose leaders like we choose movie idols: whoever delivers the best one-liners, sings the loudest at rallies, or has the most tarpaulins along EDSA.
We reward last names, not track records. We confuse fluency in Tagalog with sincerity, English with elitism, and silence with humility. We trust the candidate who kisses babies in front of cameras, even if those same babies will grow up in the same poverty their parents endured.
The Cost of Every Bad Choice
Bad governance isn’t just a newspaper headline. It’s the reason you’re waist-deep in floodwater because the drainage budget became someone’s SUV. It’s the reason the barangay health center has no medicine while the mayor’s birthday party had a buffet for a thousand. It’s the reason your kid’s school has 60 students per class, but the LGU has “digital transformation” contracts with no working websites.
We keep acting surprised. “Grabe, corrupt pala!” As if it wasn’t in the news, the rumors, or the court records before we voted.
We Deserve What We Keep Electing
We’ve been here before. We’ll be here again. Because in the Philippines, the ballot isn’t treated as a duty — it’s treated like a raffle ticket. And the prize is always the same: disappointment with a side of “Sana all.”
So yes, I’m sorry, Philippines. We suck at choosing our leaders. And until we stop voting for nostalgia, celebrity, and dynastic comfort, we will keep getting the government we deserve — and the disasters we don’t.