Surviving the dysfunctional

It’s that season when we go out of our way to remember and honor those who came before us. The first days of November hold a unique ritual for Filipinos, driven not only by established religion but by something deeper, more personal, and profoundly cultural. While this isn’t an exploration of how we celebrate the lives of our ancestors—those family members who have passed but remain alive in our hearts—I want to root this discussion in that very instinct and tradition.

The political drama that has engulfed the country over the past year is unlikely to improve anytime soon. If anything, I anticipate it will worsen. The ongoing tension and acrimony seem poised to cast a shadow over the most festive and generous season of all—Christmas. While the spirit of Christmas will still bring an uplift, a temporary return to the traditional optimism it inspires, the weight of a difficult year may prove resistant to Christmas cheer.

Looking back to the birth of Jesus Christ, it’s worth reflecting on the situation of the Jewish people at that time. Biblical accounts suggest that life was far from easy. The political environment then, too, was one of fear and tension, where even a pregnant woman and her husband struggled to find a safe place for their child’s birth. In many ways, their situation seemed more fraught than our own.

If the Jews needed rescue from their oppressive leaders, they were sent Jesus—according to those who turned Christian in the years that followed. Yet, it would seem that salvation was not intended for this world. For Filipinos, it may be worth remembering this Christian teaching: Jesus Christ’s salvation speaks to the life beyond, not to immediate deliverance from worldly struggles. Christmas, though celebrated with hopes for joy, peace, and a better life, may disappoint in its promise of relief from hardship. Current conditions favor political discord more than hope, with continued economic stagnation instead of growth.

We have entered November after three months of storms—and not just the kind nature delivers. True, we’ve had typhoons, marked by less intense winds but record-breaking rains. Yet the political storms have been no less terrible, tearing our country apart as two dominant forces clash in what appears to be a battle to the end. Here we are in the middle of it all, enduring the torrent and wading through the floods, hoping to survive, while our leaders seem preoccupied with their greed and egos.

Dysfunctional leaders will produce dysfunctional governance; that is a guaranteed formula. We are not yet at our worst, but our leaders seem determined to accelerate our decline. So far, the Marcos Jr. administration has managed to maintain some sense of order, and that deserves recognition. But with political forces increasingly turning on one another, it’s surprising the turbulence has been mostly contained at the top. Sooner or later, though, this unrest will cascade down to all levels of government and society.

These are times when people begin to think about messiahs. Perhaps that’s why the latest list of candidates for the midterm elections has provoked so much scorn. When a savior is sought, the qualifications of candidates inevitably come under greater scrutiny. Sadly, the main candidates are mostly familiar names and faces, offering little more than a continuation of the status quo.

After 40 years in social and political advocacy, I’ve been both a witness and a participant in pivotal developments in our country. With a memory for details and patterns, I know we’ve been in difficult places before. The 1970s saw martial law; the 1980s witnessed a people-powered revolution and multiple coup attempts. The 1990s ended with a sitting president removed from office, and while the first decade of the 21st century was somewhat less turbulent, it was still marked by instability. The following decade brought two starkly contrasting presidents, followed by the upheaval of COVID-19, a brief Marcos-Duterte alliance, and now, the bitter breakup of that alliance, which has yet to reach its climax.

In other words, we have faced periods of darkness and turmoil as well as fleeting moments of inspiration from our leaders. It’s as though we’re still on a roller coaster with no clear path to stability or progress. While there’s a quiet yearning for change, there is no vision or charismatic leader to channel the goodwill necessary to spark a meaningful reset.

The last thing I would want is an explosion of frustration from the citizenry. Regardless of my own political views, I have no desire to see change forced through violence or upheaval, whatever its source. Yet, I see little chance for true change without some sort of pressure. At some point, mere reform feels like nothing more than a temporary fix. It’s not only that I doubt political leaders will have a change of heart; it’s also that the majority—though weary, financially strained, and frustrated—still seem willing to endure further hardship.

This may be my greatest disappointment: that people have become so accustomed to hardship that they have developed a kind of resilience to pain. It’s also my deepest fear, because experience has shown that pain builds until it becomes unbearable. The root causes of this pain must be addressed if we are to stave off an inevitable eruption.

This is now my prayer: that there will be enough Filipinos with clear minds, brave spirits, and, most importantly, pure hearts who will rise as role models where traditional leaders have failed. I see them; I hear them; I sense them. For the future, I believe they will succeed where my generation has not. How I wish I could see that day.