Third of a series

MY column last week drew varied reactions, but what was truly “nakakataba ng puso” was the overwhelming agreement from fellow Davaoeños with the article as satire. I told them, half in jest, that my prose sharpens when I am sufficiently enraged and when the stench of katiwalian becomes impossible to ignore. Rage these days is a form of clarity.

I will keep these Davaoeños en pectore — except one: my wife, Sylvia. “Great article, Dad, perfectly written!!! But I hope Bong Go won’t get back at us. I’m scared...” she said. Sylvia is no shrinking violet; her fear is diagnosis, not drama.

And perhaps that is the tragedy: fear has emerged as our collective inheritance. In a nation where corruptors hold power with impunity, even the courageous speak in lowered tones, waiting for the day safety is restored to the governed.

If part two (last week) traced Bong Go’s metamorphosis from the Deegong’s aide to his avatar and eventual Svengali, this is the sequel: the anatomy of his defense against the accusations of his own Torquemada, former senator Antonio Trillanes IV, that relentless inquisitor of conscience. Here, denial is not merely an alibi but an art form performed with devotional precision — the most profitable skill in Philippine politics.

But let us not mistake Sonny Trillanes for a hero. He is an opportunist who has mastered the art of harvesting tragedy from the missteps of Duterte and his minions. Yet, paradoxes abound in Philippine politics, and gratitude sometimes springs from unlikely places. For all his motives — pure or poisoned — we thank him for the dogged investigations, the meticulous gathering of documents, and the evidentiary trail now resting before the Ombudsman. One man’s revenge can, at times, become another man’s justice.

For simplicity, I expound on Bong Go’s defense — in his most inarticulate language, his pedigree can allow him — not in the solemn language of law but in the idiom of our national pastime, the teleserye where emotion trumps evidence and judgment is rendered by sentiment.

Act 1: The forensic fairy tale

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Every scandal begins with a story, and Bong Go’s begins with lineage. “Our family’s construction business existed before I was born,” he declares, as if ancestry could absolve scrutiny. It’s a deft maneuver: convert an accusation into a legacy. But corruption is never hereditary; it is opportunistic, and CLTG’s rise parallels his path to Malacañang.

From modest beginnings, the firm blossomed into a miracle of public works contracts, multiplying with proximity to power, and assets swelling in rhythm with Go’s political elevation. Coincidence? Yet fortune reliably blesses those closest to the throne.

To devotees, it is diligence rewarded; to realists, déjà vu in the gospel of crony capitalism. Go’s true artistry resides not in deception but in narration, spinning fairy tales as liturgy, trusting that the public continues to yearn for redemption rather than responsibility.

Act 2: The deflection doctrine

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When confronted with documents, Go often turns to expressions of loyalty rather than direct answers. Criticism is framed as persecution, turning oversight into sacrilege, critics into heretics. Evidence becomes an insult to truth. This approach has deep roots in our political history. Marcos’ père conceived it, Estrada polished it, and Duterte systematized it.

When the argument is indefensible, the strategy shifts toward appealing to emotion rather than addressing the facts. In a public sphere long shaped by rhetoric, volume can overshadow documentation, and sentiment can eclipse substance. In such moments, serious allegations risk being reduced to personalities and theatrics, weakening the institutional rigor that a democracy requires.

Act 3: The performance of property

Every public figure eventually offers a statement meant to convey integrity, and Go did so when he declared, “If my family is involved, I will be the first to recommend charges.” It projected a commitment to accountability though its impact lay more in the gesture than in any concrete action.

Meanwhile, investigations languish in a bureaucratic quagmire; evidence gathers dust. Delay becomes the disinfectant of scandal. By the time inquiries conclude, memory has decayed, and Go’s performance remains embalmed as proof of purity untouched by consequence.

Act 4: The ‘public servant, not a businessman’ plea

Then comes the sanctified denial. “I have not gained anything. My only investment is propriety.” Framed as a simple appeal to sincerity — our national currency — it reduces billions in contracts and oversight to a matter of personal integrity.

In a society that often associates humility with honesty, such statements can carry significant weight, even when official records raise unresolved concerns. Go’s plea resonates partly because the public is weary after controversies from Pharmally to flood-control anomalies; many citizens seek reassurance more than confrontation. His message offers that relief: trust the individual, set aside the troubling details.

Act 5: The politics of perception

By this point, the dynamics are clear. Go stands half-martyr, half-mirror, illustrating a political environment where truth often competes with perception for credibility. The Senate, once envisioned as a chamber of statesmen, now resembles a reality show for the self-righteous.

In this theater, Go excels. The bowed head, the trembling voice, the moist eyes of patriotic fatigue, each gesture calibrated for broadcast. The camera loves his humility; the masses forgive his opacity. Behind the curtains, the machinery hums efficiently, awarding contracts, recycling cronies, and laundering loyalty into legitimacy.

The tragedy is collective. Each time we applaud the performance of innocence, we deceive ourselves. Accountability becomes entertainment; sincerity becomes a commodity.

Act 6: The moral epilogue

As theater, Bong Go’s defense is almost impressive, disciplined, rhythmic, and drenched in poignancy. But remove the spotlight, and it becomes a cautionary tale: how virtue, repeated, becomes camouflage; how loyalty, mistaken for leadership, deteriorates into a liability.

He is the archetype of the Filipino functionary who ascends through devotion and survives through denial. His mantra, “Gusto ko lamang makatulong” transforms incompetence into compassion and mediocrity into mercy. Yet governance is not charity; help without understanding is harm with a halo. The republic deserves better than well-meaning aides promoted beyond their depth.

Postscript: The reckoning of shadows

Ombudsman Remulla may soon resurrect the Pharmally scandal and trace its architecture back to Go — not as an aide but as “capo di tutti capi.” His “soldatis” — Christopher Lao, former health secretary Duque, and Michael Yang’s network — could again face scrutiny if they have not already fled the country. Beyond Pharmally stand over 200 anomalous flood-control projects: CLTG, Alfrego and the Discayas’ concrete tributes to loyalty disguised as public service.

A reckoning, however delayed, appears unavoidable. The arena where Go once operated as Duterte’s trusted shadow may yet become his political graveyard. Unless he slips away or is likewise sequestered by the ICC as the purported paymaster of “crimes against humanity.” Herein lies an almost insurmountable quandary: remain and be indicted, or flee and be condemned for fleeing, or languish in The Hague with his avatar. Whichever way, history will collect its dues from those who mistake impunity for invincibility.

And my wife will be scared no more!

The Senate President crowed yesterday that the party he nominally coheads, PDP-Laban, has a “pleasant problem” — too many potential senatorial candidates. Koko Pimentel’s estimate is they have up to 20 possible choices for the 12-person slate for the 2019 senatorial race. But his list includes the five administration-affiliated senatorial incumbents up for reelection next year. This is a group that has made noises that, much as it prefers to remain in the administration camp, it is unhappy with the way PDP-Laban has been designating its local leaders and candidates, and therefore prefers to strike out on its own, perhaps in alliance with the other administration (regional) party, Hugpong ng Pagbabago, headed by the President’s daughter and current Davao City mayor, Sara Duterte.

Setting aside, then, the five-person “Force,” the administration-oriented but not PDP-friendly reelectionists (Nancy Binay, Sonny Angara, Cynthia Villar, Grace Poe, and JV Ejercito), what Koko’s crowing over is a mixed bag. Some of them have been floated by Speaker Pantaleon Alvarez (with whom Mayor Duterte clashed in recent months): six representatives (Gloria Macapagal Arroyo who is in her last term in the House of Representatives; Albee Benitez, Karlo Nograles, Rey Umali, Geraldine Roman, and Zajid Mangudadatu), three Cabinet members (Bong Go, Harry Roque, and Francis Tolentino), and two other officials (Mocha Uson and Ronald dela Rosa), which still only adds up to 11 possible candidates (who are the missing three?).

Of all of these, the “Force” reelectionists are only fair-weather allies of the present dispensation; their setting themselves apart is about much more than the mess PDP-Laban made in, say, San Juan where support for the Zamoras makes it extremely unattractive for JV Ejercito to consider being in the same slate. Their cohesion is about thinking ahead: Creating the nucleus for the main coalition to beat in the 2022 presidential election. The contingent of congressmen and congresswomen who could become candidates for the Senate, however, seems more a means to kick the Speaker’s rivals upstairs (at least in the case of Benitez and Arroyo) and pad the candidates’ list with token but sacrificial candidates, a similar situation to the executive officials being mentioned as possible candidates (of the executive officials, only Go seems viable, but making him run would deprive the President of the man who actually runs the executive department, and would be a clear signal that the administration is shifting to a post-term protection attitude instead of the more ambitious system-change mode it’s been on, so far).

Vice President Leni Robredo has been more circumspect, saying she’s not sure the Liberal Party can even muster a full slate. The party chair, Kiko Pangilinan, denied that a list circulating online (incumbent Bam Aquino, former senators Mar Roxas, Jun Magsaysay, TG Guingona, current and former representatives Jose Christopher Belmonte, Kaka Bag-ao, Edcel Lagman, Raul Daza, Gary Alejano and Erin Tañada, former governor Eddie Panlilio and Cebu City Mayor Tomas Osmeña) had any basis in fact.

What both lists have in common is they could be surveys-on-the-cheap, trial balloons to get the public pulse. Until the 17th Congress reconvenes briefly from May 14 to June 1 for the tail end of its second regular session (only to adjourn sine die until the third regular session begins on July 23), it has nothing much to do. Except, that is, for the barangay elections in May, after a last-ditch effort by the House to postpone them yet again to October failed.

Names can be floated but the real signal will come in July, when the President mounts the rostrum and calls for the big push for a new constitution—or not. Connected to this would be whether the Supreme Court disposes of its own chief, which would spare the Senate—and thus, free up the legislative calendar—to consider Charter change instead of an impeachment trial. In the meantime, what congressmen do seem abuzz over is an unrefusable invitation to the Palace tomorrow — to mark Arroyo’s birthday. An event possibly pregnant with meaning.

Here’s a striking statement about love shared with me by an English college mentor. “Love knows no grammar. How it works can’t be measured by any parts or figures of speech. It goes beyond the literate and illiterate. The sad reality is that, even a fool who has got no philosophy is not spared of its harsh reality.” After almost three decades, I reminded him through a private message of his words. Here’s what he said. “Thank you, Jord. This statement about love is searing to the heart. And, yes, fools do fall for it too. But I thought that we as well speak of the beauty that it gives and not so much focus on the harsh realities. After all, our country has had enough of the negativities.” Thank you, dearest Sir Eugene.

In these decisive times when our nation trembles under the weight of corruption, inequality, and disillusionment, it is you―the youth, burning with idealism, courage, and an unyielding sense of right―who must stand at the forefront of CHANGE. The future of the Philippines hangs in the balance, calling not for silence or apathy, but for unity, conviction, and action. Let your dreams be the spark that ignites renewal; let your voices thunder against injustice; let your hands build the nation our forebears envisioned but never fulfilled. Now is the hour to awaken, to rise, and to lead the march toward a just and transformed Philippines.

Remember, the pages of our history resound with the triumphs of youth who dared to dream and act. From the Propagandists who wielded the pen against tyranny to the Katipuneros who took up arms for freedom, it was always the young who ignited revolutions and rebuilt nations. As Dr. Jose Rizal declared, “The youth is the hope of our motherland,” but that hope is not a gift to be passively claimed; it is a duty to be earned through courage and purpose.

Today’s generation must transform awareness into action―to confront corruption with integrity, to challenge inequality with empathy, and to counter apathy with participation. The time for mere commentary has passed. What the nation demands now is commitment, creativity, and collective resolve. When the youth stand united in conscience and conviction, no obstacle is insurmountable, no reform impossible. The power to redeem the nation’s promise lies not in the hands of the few, but in the awakened spirit of the many. Rise, therefore, as one generation with one objective―to forge a Philippines worthy of its people’s deepest hopes. And to those who were once the torchbearers of youth but have since laid down their fire―hear this call.

The nation does not forget its veterans of hope, those who once believed that change was possible but have since grown weary in the long twilight of disappointment. Thus far history grants no sanctuary to resignation. It demands of every generation the same unrelenting duty―to defend what is right, to confront what is wrong, and to labor still for what remains unfinished.

Now is the moment to rise again. Let not caution disguise itself as wisdom, nor comfort as peace. The courage that once stirred your youth still flickers within; rekindle it, and let it burn anew for the sake of those who follow. Your experience, tempered by time, must now join hands with the fervor of the young - to guide, to mentor, to strengthen.

Together, let the wisdom of the seasoned and the passion of the rising coalesce into a single, indomitable force for renewal. For the task of nation-building is not bound by age, but by conviction. The call of the motherland resounds to all who still believe that the story of the Filipino is not yet complete―and that redemption, though delayed, is still within our grasp if only we choose to act once more. And to those whose hands have long gripped the levers of power―hardened by privilege, dulled by entitlement―hear this with clarity: the era of self-preservation must yield to the dawn of selfless service.

The nation can no longer afford leaders who mistake possession for stewardship, nor governance for dominion. The time has come to relinquish the throne of complacency and make way for the custodians of vision, courage, and renewal.

To step aside is not to surrender, but to honor the sacred rhythm of nationhood―to allow new voices, new hearts, and new minds to breathe life into institutions that have grown stale from neglect. True leadership is an act of stewardship, and stewardship demands humility―to know when to lead, and when to pass the torch. Those who have ruled long enough must now become mentors, not masters; guides, not gatekeepers.

To the youth who will inherit this burden and blessing alike, the call is equally profound. Lead not with arrogance, but with awareness; not with impulse, but with integrity. Let optimism be your discipline―a conscious act of faith in the nation’s capacity to rise again. Lead with inclusivity that unites rather than divides, with courage that reforms rather than destroys, and with resilience that endures when hope seems frail.

For the measure of a new generation’s greatness lies not in its defiance alone, but in its wisdom to build where others have failed. Let your leadership become the living testament that the Philippines, once disillusioned, has learned at last to believe again―through you.

Now, the Filipino youth stand at a defining crossroad of history. The echoes of the past and the murmurs of the future converge upon this moment, and in your hands rests the fragile, however formidable promise of a nation reborn. You are the inheritors of unfinished dreams and the architects of what is yet to be. United in thought and deed, strengthened by the wisdom of history and the fire of conviction, you possess the power to shape a Philippines anchored in justice, animated by democracy, and sustained by the collective flourishing of its people.

The mantle of responsibility has passed to you. Do not falter beneath its weight; bear it with courage, for it is through your resolve that the nation will rise from the ruins of complacency. Let your unity transcend boundaries of region, class, and creed. Let your integrity redefine leadership, and your compassion restore faith in the Filipino spirit.

This is your hour. Let this narrative be not merely a call to awaken, but a solemn commitment―to the country that nurtures you, to the people who believe in you, and to the generations who will follow your example. Stand firm, for you are the heartbeat of a nation yearning to live with dignity once more. Speak right and shine!

Rise, Filipino youth, and let history remember that when your time came ―you stood unwavering, and the nation moved forward.