IN my Nov. 26 column, I described the Trillion Peso March as a valiant attempt at national unity by “getting everyone equally furious at the same crooks at the same time.” Indeed, it succeeded, if success is measured by the volume of our shared rage. But a protest fueled by communal fury still falters when its anger is divided. Our wrath splinters across multiple villains: corrupt political leadership; a bureaucracy that confuses public service with personal enrichment; and private contractors whose construction empires are built on sand, kickbacks, and asphalt priced like gold bullion.

Ambivalence kills momentum. Outrage diluted by caveats — “Sara is not as crooked as BBM” (referring to Vice President Sara Duterte and President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr.) — turns a precise target into a foggy abstraction. In that ambiguity, the guilty find room to breathe.

The “accountability and transparency” slogan, while noble, lacks the primal ring of “Marcos resign!” — a chant turbo-charged by the surviving die-hard acolytes of former president Rodrigo Duterte, who have only swapped posters, not philosophies. Their decibel-level enthusiasm masks a dangerous truth: mass mobilization without unity becomes a political demolition derby — Marcos vs. Sara vs. Yellows vs. the Left — and the nation is the vehicle totaled in the crash.

Unless these marches transcend partisanship, they become merely a Texas hold ‘em poker all-in bet with a nothing hand — a bluff in a game where the house always collects the country’s future as its winnings.

History is rarely kind to those who dismiss the seemingly futile. Revolutions begin as murmurs. Crises stalk until they pounce. The question now isn’t if our national frustration erupts into something larger, but how and when it blows.

I see three decisive forces that will shape the immediate future: the masses, the military and the international arena. Together, they will decide whether we cross the “final tipping point,” and together they will lay before us what we Filipinos love most: A smorgasbord of choices that we will pile on our plates and leave uneaten.

The street: Where change begins — or stops?

The Trillion Peso March was a warning shot, a flare fired from a ship taking on water. But a single march is theater; sustained demonstrations are pressure. They must endure long enough to alter the calculations of the one group that truly makes governments tremble: business. While activists talk about principles, capital speaks the only language politicians listen to: profit. When protests make investors sweat and malls empty, when imports stall and dividends shrink, the business sector drops its neutrality faster than a stock market during a coup rumor.

Remember EDSA I and II. It was not merely the priests, students, or cause-oriented groups that tipped the scales. It was people from the middle class marching with car keys in their pockets and mortgages on the line. When that sector shifts allegiance from stability to upheaval, it signals that the cost of the status quo has become intolerable. Street action must, therefore, sustain enough discomfort to reach that crucial threshold. When the middle class moves, regimes fall. This is always the first domino.

Men with guns: The real ‘checks and balances’

Let us not rewrite our fairy tales: EDSA I and II were not purely civilian love letters to democracy. They were military-backed, Western-trained transitions, with Fidel Ramos from West Point and Angelo Reyes from Harvard (“Alternative scenarios: Lessons from Harvard,” Dec. 3, 2025). The Armed Forces, whether we like it or not, remain the arbiters of order when civilian leadership loses legitimacy. But in this current crisis, the officers face a stark questionnaire: Is the civilian government still legitimate? Is the state machinery still functioning? Is public fury still tolerable?

If “yes” remains true, the military stays reluctantly in their barracks, nervous but restrained, cautious but compliant. But when the answers tip to “no,” the Philippines risks replaying the old tragedies of South America, Africa, and the Middle East: coups executed with surgical precision and patriotic cover stories. Western schooling may have once softened the uniforms, but without a steady civilian helm, even Harvard epaulettes cannot guarantee constitutional loyalty.

We must, therefore, shape the narrative, so that the perception of both the masses and the military become one. Once soldiers decide that democracy has collapsed, even temporarily, they will reshuffle the poker deck, so to speak, with cards no one else can hold. Once unleashed, the genie never returns to the bottle. Toothpaste does not reenter the tube. And power, once seized, rarely walks itself back to its cage.

International calculations: When elephants fight, the grass becomes collateral

Filipino transitions have never occurred in a strategic vacuum. EDSA I only concluded when the United States, our ever-ambivalent patron, told the dictator to “cut and cut cleanly.” And he did cut cleanly, and got a free, first-class plane seat not to Paoay, but to Hawaii.

Today, however, the geopolitical terrain is treacherously altered. The United States is helmed by a cognitively impaired president who weaponizes ignorance with pride, and who has — with breathtaking incompetence — surrendered his country’s economic primacy to a quietly encircling China. Donald Trump’s Indo-Pacific grand strategy has mutated into meme diplomacy: tweets as treaties, tantrums as foreign policy.

China watches like a patient creditor awaiting default. It warmly remembers a Philippines once led by a man now facing judgment at The Hague — and his successor-in-waiting, a heartbeat from power, whose inclination toward China defies fiscal logic or national interest. In our domestic turmoil, China sees an opening: influence invited or imposed.

The US will resist any transition that weakens its Indo-Pacific foothold. China will seize any shift that expands its reach. And our military — US-trained at the top, but its edges courted by China — must choose not only between powers, but also between futures. In geopolitics, there are no spectators. Only players — and prizes.

The day after order collapses

The masses may roar. Politicians may wobble. Markets may panic. But the day after any upheaval, peaceful or otherwise, does not belong to the crowds. It belongs to those who can govern, not merely topple. That future hinges on one defining question: will the Philippines march toward reform, or stumble into disorder? The road forks sharply ahead: a negotiated accountability process, painful but peaceful; a constitutional succession, predictable but uninspiring; a military-backed reset, risky but decisive; a geopolitical tug-of-war, where we lose more than sovereignty. For now, the trains still run, though delayed, overpriced, and occasionally underwater. But soon, the question may no longer be who runs them, but whether they run at all. Meantime, we must persist with other Trillion Peso Marches — in Davao, Cebu, the Bangsamoro region — and then again and again — until the preconditions in my Nov. 26 column have come to pass — the incarcerations of six or seven senators; the 15 to 30 House representatives; the Discayas; the Gardiolas and their cartels; and the BGC Boys of the Department of Public Works and Highways — and yes, Martin Romualdez and Zaldy Co for good measure.

And then? History reloads.

Abangan ang kasunod!

 

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.