I’ve been working on this article for two days now, preparing to submit it before the deadline. During that time, I’ve been searching for positive news, hoping to contribute to the buoyant spirit of the upcoming Christmas season. But finding lightness and optimism in the daily news hasn’t been easy, especially the kind that can inspire or uplift others.
The weather remains erratic, as is typical for the “-ber” months. October is still within the typhoon season, and many destructive storms have struck in the past few months. Now, another one is already approaching the Philippines, particularly Luzon, prompting authorities to raise a serious alarm. This turbulent weather mirrors the political and economic challenges currently unfolding.
For an opinion writer, it can be frustrating not to have a wider array of uplifting topics to discuss. Life has many dimensions, categorized by age, location, culture, and maturity, all of which could offer rich insights to share with my readers. Yet, politics and street economics, both largely negative, dominate the discourse.
For the ordinary Filipino, whom I estimate to be about 50 million strong, along with the poor, numbering another 30 million, the struggle is real. Incomes rarely stretch the full 30 days of the month, and saving for rainy days—which seem to come more often than not—is an ongoing challenge. I call this ‘street economics,’ distinct from the macroeconomics of government, banks, and big businesses.
Financial challenges must be dealt with daily. These are the costs of rent, electricity, water, and most importantly, the food we buy and serve. They also include transportation costs, which shape not only our budgets but the time we can spend with our families. Mass transportation is severely lacking and will take years, if not decades, to catch up.
For the poor, the situation is even more distressing than just challenging. It’s a daily question of whether they can earn enough to eat two or three meals—regardless of the meals’ nutritional value. Clinging to hope and prayer becomes essential for survival, a safeguard against despair. In my view, there’s no immorality, just necessity, when dignity or principles are sacrificed for money or favors.
In this harsh reality, relief often comes from the world of fantasy. It’s a way to escape the mental toll of daily life. Tens of millions find solace by disconnecting from reality and immersing themselves in the virtual lives of celebrities and superheroes, whether on television, YouTube, or social media. The native Filipino spirit, deeply rooted in the beauty of creation and blessed by nature, remains strong, but it’s often stretched thin by the pressures of daily survival.
The more people suffer, the more they turn to fantasy, whether through teleseryes, the online lives of influencers and celebrities, or even small-scale gambling, including online. In extreme cases, some turn to drugs, where users often become pushers just to sustain their addiction, seeking escape and hope in the darkest corners.
“To double the burden of hardship for most Filipinos, the business and political elite are in their usual partnership, exploiting opportunities for personal gain. They sit at the top, holding the most power, wealth, and influence. Ideally, they could be the elite of knowledge, education, technology, the arts, and refined behavior—but they are not.
Against this backdrop, it’s astonishing how deceptive the rich and powerful can be toward those already dependent on them. The deception is not for their subordinates but for the larger global audience whose approval, or disapproval, they seek. In the 20th century, open exploitation of the poor became politically incorrect, and so the exploitation continued—but it had to be disguised.
The most subtle disguise came in the form of Western democracy, particularly the American model, where the masses felt empowered by their right to vote. Yet, behind the scenes, the political and financial elite orchestrated elections that more closely resembled selections, offering choices from a short list that the masses had little role in creating. The veneer of democracy became necessary, even if deceptive, as it placated the majority and prevented rebellion.
A prime example of this can be seen in the Philippines today. There’s a rising level of discontent with both the political and economic elite. The gap between the masses and the elite has become grotesquely wide—not just because the rich and powerful control the country’s fate, but because of how blatantly they do it. The autocratic or oligarchic system, long present, is now unmasked as dynasties openly take over.
It’s almost as if governance has been privatized, with little distinction left between public service and private enterprise. Those who control the money control the votes, and those who control the votes wield the power. This cyclical process of ownership continues, unchecked.
The guardrails are gone. The Constitution and the laws, never truly effective as safeguards, were also dictated by the elite. Our real guardrails were always our spirituality, culture, and the virtues that restrained greed and the lust for power. Tragically, these too are fading, as we choose to put lesser gods before our great Bathala.
Ironically, the ordinary and poor Filipinos are the final guardrail. They may not realize it or believe it, but they hold the key to whether we remain a democracy, an oligarchy, or an autocracy. One day, their suffering will teach them lessons that wisdom alone has yet to impart. Looking back at human history, it’s clear that the curse of learning through poverty is not exclusive to Filipinos.