First of two parts

LAST week, Filipinos missed the legislative hearings and saw nothing from the opaque ICI; instead, they were regaled with hypocritical displays from Senators Joel Villanueva and Bong Go. The latter’s corruption narrative follows CLTG Builders’ rise during Mayor Duterte’s tenure. He started his career as the lowly special assistant — “gofer and alleged procurer” — rising to the exalted position of the Deegong’s surrogate son and self-proclaimed protector of his legacy

(The first part of this series examines Sen. Joel Villanueva’s defense. Bong Go’s defense will feature in the second part.)

Joel Villanueva – pulpit politics

Having studied at a seminary myself, I am familiar with glib-tongued clergy, pastors and pretend prophets bewitching the audience with “fire and brimstone” oratory. Villanueva’s command of Filipino and Bible quotations was impeccable. Quirino Grandstand was the dramatic backdrop, like Moses descending from the mountain. He carried a Bible, visual proof of his holiness. When he opens it with a flourish to quote a passage, you’d think ChatGPT was embedded in the scriptures.

The faithful of the Jesus Is Lord (JIL) Church filled the park in waves of devotion, banners fluttering like modern palms. The 47th anniversary of a church is no small matter in a country where religious piety cum showbiz share the same stage lighting. But that evening, one performance stood out — not for its sanctity, but for its choreography: Senator Joel, son of the founder, heir to the ministry, an occasional legislator — and an accused. 

It was as the emcee said, “a night of thanksgiving.” Yet to this columnist- satirist/political heckler, it was also the Villanuevas’ night of positioning and denial of serious accusations regarding the son allegedly receiving 30 percent of P600 million in flood control corruption in his home province of Bulacan.

The sermon as misdirection strategy

Joel commenced his oratory with humility — an epitome of public service. “Public office is a divine calling,” he proclaimed with fervor. His cadence echoed the classic revival-tent rhythm: half sermon — “paiyak-iyak pa” — appealing to the captive audience’s empathy as the aggrieved, while subtly directing veiled barbs at faceless phantoms in a conspiracy purportedly singling him out. The terms “divine design” and “calling” reverberated through the grandstand like campaign anthems reimagined by the Holy Spirit. “I legislate not for wealth, but for worship!” he asserted, eliciting rapture from the congregation. Somewhere, St. Paul may have been turning in his grave. It was part testimony and part political defense brief.

For while the faithful raised their hands in hallelujahs, others raised skeptical eyebrows — those who recalled murmurs regarding infrastructure funds, flood control irregularities, and Discaya’s ilk, who seemed to possess an uncanny faith in the miracles of multiplication and kickbacks. But undeterred, the senator cloaked himself in scripture. “The only flood I’m involved in is the flood of blessings!” A line so artfully crafted that it might soon appear on bumper stickers. (Now we have learned of a 2016 dismissal order by then Ombudsman Conchita Carpio-Morales regarding Joel’s alleged misappropriation of his PDAF funds. This clandestine maneuvering by the discredited Ombudsman Samuel Martires will be addressed in forthcoming columns.)

Faith as firewall

Every politician requires a formidable shield and an impregnable platform that simultaneously serves as their pulpit. Joel possesses his father’s devoted congregation, and to his detractors, his closed-neck barong might as well be a clerical cassock granting him a distinctive status — the dual citizenship of the divine and the Senate. He understands that in the Philippines, piety serves as the most effective insurance policy against adverse headlines. Invoke Jesus with sufficient fervor, and even the most secular scandals begin to resemble parables.

The Quirino Grandstand was a remarkable form of political baptism: sin washed clean by the sound system. Yet, one must commend the artistry involved. To seamlessly intertwine contrition with charisma demands considerable finesse. It is the same spiritual choreography that transmutes every accusation into an altar call and every voter into a fervent believer.

Luneta grandstand, temple of optics

That night, the Luneta was less a venue than a visual metaphor. Here was the senator framed by floodlights, a choir behind him, nation before him. The air pulsed with devotion — and chicanery. For all its hymns, the event played like a dress rehearsal for an earthly rapture: politics sanctified, ambition baptized, applause disguised as “amens.”

When Villanueva said, “Before you amend a bill, amend your heart,” the crowd roared. It was a good line — moral, marketable, meme-ready — and profoundly pukable. But I doubt that any of the church members vomited. This guy possesses the language of a politico-religious charlatan. Just like our Davao version, the “Appointed Son of God.” Only that Joel is outranked — a mere son of the earthly founder of “Jesus Is Lord Church,” Bro. Eddie Villanueva. But Quiboloy and Joel may soon share a prison cell — if Remulla has his way.

The evening climaxed with a declaration shouted into the Manila night: “The Philippines may sink in floods, but our faith will rise!” A poetic flourish, though perhaps too soon for residents of Bulacan still knee-deep in actual floodwater. But in politics, irony is the national dialect.

The inherited halo

There is, of course, a semblance of dynastic destiny in all this. Joel is not merely a participant in the ministry; he is a product of it. His father established the JIL movement in the 1970s, an era when salvation and worship could simultaneously serve as forms of social protest. Decades later, the son perpetuates this legacy, albeit with the pulpit now occupying the Senate hall. Inheriting a political dynasty, much like in the realm of religion, often entails bearing a halo. Yet halos, akin to headlines, are resplendent but delicate. The senator’s formidable challenge, therefore, is to convince the nation that he is not simply a steward of legacy, but a legislator guided by principles (kuno); that his devotion is not a mere campaign tactic or misdirection, warding off the arms of the law.

Faith, politics and the Filipino

In the end, perhaps the satire transcends the mere portrayal of the senator, extending instead to us — the audience who fervently applauds both confession and charisma. We are a nation that craves the divine in our politics and the political in our devotion. We want Moses to part red tape and Jesus to audit the budget. So, when a senator preaches, we applaud; when he prays, we vote. Somewhere between scripture and strategy, between the Quirino Grandstand and the Senate floor, our democracy has become a kind of megachurch — complete with fog machines, faith declarations and Wi-Fi.

Final benediction

When the lights dimmed and the confetti settled, the faithful went home inspired, the senator went home trending, and the satirist/political heckler fashioned this column. In that sense, everyone left fulfilled. But one must leave a moral, however tongue-in-cheek: Faith may indeed move mountains — but it shouldn’t move public funds. And if someday we wake up to find our senators walking on water, let’s check first if the tide of accountability has simply gone out.

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.