It’s just about four weeks until Christmas Day, yet I’m still waiting for that familiar festive spark to lighten the atmosphere and brighten the collective mood. Weeks ago, I mentioned how the Christmas season had already begun, but somehow, I couldn’t feel it.
I wondered if I had been unduly influenced by the bitter political dynamics of the Uniteam allies now turning against each other, or perhaps by the economic crunch bearing down on ordinary and poor Filipinos due to the relentless rise in the prices of essentials—especially food. But before I could fully pinpoint what was weighing on me, the typhoons began arriving, one after another, over these last two months.
To think that I am no longer an active participant in the spheres that deeply shape Philippine society. I can’t help but wonder about those who are still in the thick of it—those navigating employment, raising families, or striving to be engaged citizens. In a socio-political environment riddled with negativity, coupled with severe economic challenges and an erratic climate, where will most Filipinos find the inspiration to carry on?
Traditionally, Christmas has been one such wellspring of hope and positivity. That’s why I’ve been especially attuned to its usual signs—the Christmas songs, the dazzling lights and decorations, the flurry of preparations for family gatherings. They’re there, but they seem muted, somber, lacking the buoyant spirit that typically lifts us at this time of year.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve tried to compensate for my decreasing capacity to travel and engage in physical activities by immersing myself in virtual and digital spaces. I remain deeply interested in initiatives like community farming for food security, alternative educational methods to combat learning poverty, addressing land and housing issues for the marginalized, and exploring economic innovations that might resonate with younger generations. I have no intention of retiring my mind or my heart—I still believe there is much for me to do.
Yet, I must admit that the traditional ways of approaching these issues are fading fast, giving way to younger, more dynamic, and creative expressions of action. This shift only underscores the importance of freeing millions of Filipinos from the burdens of poverty and need. When people are reduced to begging, lining up for alms or ayuda, they are trapped in a cold, constricting box—mere pawns in the long-standing game of control.
Yes, the minority rich and powerful still control the lives of most Filipinos. They’ve done so for centuries, from the reign of kings and emperors to the era of datus and sultans. While those titles have faded, the systems they represent have been resurrected under new names and protocols. The essence, however, remains unchanged: the partnership of power and money.
If Filipinos are to alter the trajectory of our history, it is this rule—this entrenched alliance of wealth and authority—that we must find a way to break.
There was a time when I felt intense political discontent. I was acutely aware of the realities on the ground—the hardships of life at the bottom, the struggle to climb from the middle, and the entitled existence of the privileged. I believed it was time for change, to create opportunities for the disadvantaged—not because of ignorance or laziness, but due to the circumstances of their birth.
I joined efforts for change, even those that leaned towards the radical. I had passion and determination, but I never abandoned my intelligence. Whether in success or failure, I learned hard lessons—many of them painful, their consequences still resonating in my life today. The hardest of these was learning to discern between the possible and the impossible, between the practical and the ideal, between what works for me and what works for others. And most of all, the importance of timing—of understanding when the moment is ripe for change.
The present, however, makes meaningful change even harder despite technological advances. Society’s value system has shifted even further, elevating money and power to near-godhood, leaving the ordinary and the poor even more dominated by the rich and powerful. Yet, amidst this, I find inspiration and hope in two things: the youth and the exponential advancement of technology. The youth, with their energy and adaptability, and technology, advancing so rapidly that it feels natural only to them, form a potent combination. Together, they have the potential to challenge and even dismantle the traditional domination of wealth and authority.
Many in my generation feel helpless as we witness today’s realities. It’s not just the erosion of the values and lifestyles that defined our society for centuries. It’s also the decline of meritocracy, the idolization of money, the pervasiveness of disinformation, and the growing tolerance—even acceptance—of dishonesty in our daily lives. Yet, I remind myself of the challenges faced by earlier generations—our parents and grandparents—who endured world wars, economic collapse, and social upheaval. They survived. They thrived. And they left us honorable legacies.
Now, as the twilight of my generation approaches, my peers and I find ourselves doing two kinds of math. The first is grim: how many of us are still alive? But the second is far more meaningful: did we do well, or did we fail? Will the world we leave behind be better than the one our parents entrusted to us? With the time we have left, we ask ourselves: how can we correct our mistakes, enhance our successes, and enable the next generations to achieve more for our people?
One thing is clear to me: our people and our nation will not end with my generation. They are our legacy—the truest measure of the lives we have led. This is the patriotism we must hold dear: our enduring love for the Filipino and the motherland. It is this legacy, more than anything else, that will define us.