Or, How to Turn a Beautiful Archipelago Into a Political Sitcom with Terrible WiFi
During a study break — between subnetting practice and scripting firewall rules (because, yes, I’m trying to become a network and cybersecurity engineer) — I ended up scrolling through old photos of the Philippines.
Escolta in its prime. Manila with actual public transport that worked. Filipinos dressed sharp, moving with purpose. It didn’t just feel nostalgic — it felt tragic.
And that’s when it sank in:
We really, truly, unapologetically f*cked up as a country.
Not just “bad governance” or “we were colonized” fucked up. I mean the kind of fuck-up where you had the brains, the culture, the momentum — and then just… let it all go. We’re like that gifted kid who never healed from childhood trauma and now tweets through it.
We had the brains.
But we let them go. We export nurses, engineers, scientists, and creatives — not because we want to, but because we never gave them a system worth staying for. I’m literally studying cybersecurity, but I’m preparing for a future where I might have to defend foreign infrastructure, because our own barely gets funded unless there’s a crisis — or a headline.
Our politics? A mix of teleserye and Black Mirror.
We elect names, not ideas. No platforms? No problem — just show up with a catchy jingle and a dance challenge. Bonus points if you promise to lower rice prices without explaining how. You’d think after decades of disappointment, we’d have learned. But here we are — again — with a “lesser evil” menu and political dynasties that treat public office like a family business.
Healthcare? Bring your own alcohol. And not the rubbing kind.
Unless you’re lucky (or loaded), getting sick is a financial death sentence. Hospitals are full. Doctors are tired. Our heroes in scrubs? They’re in Canada now.
Education? Still in “recite this, memorize that” mode.
Critical thinking is discouraged. Questioning authority is disrespectful. And then we wonder why misinformation spreads like tsismis on Viber.
Social media? Our new national pastime.
Where else can you get called “bayaran,” “dilawan,” or “pinklawan” by complete strangers before breakfast? We turned democracy into a shouting match, and facts are optional.
And how do we treat each other?
We’re warm — until someone has an opinion. We romanticize poverty while doing nothing to solve it. We say we support local but brag about balikbayan boxes. We mock accents, demean jobs, and glorify celebrities. The worst part? We’ve gotten used to it.
Looking at those old photos hurt. They weren’t just snapshots — they were a promise. They showed a Philippines that could’ve been great. Progressive. Respected. Whole.
But instead of becoming the Singapore of Southeast Asia, we became the group project member who had all the potential and showed up with a half-baked excuse.
Still… the fact that it hurts? That I felt it in the middle of a CCNA lab session? It means something. It means I still care. And I know I’m not alone.
So yeah, we really fucked up. But here’s the better question:
Do we keep living in the wreckage, or do we finally decide to rebuild?
