First of two parts

THESE past weeks, Filipinos were treated to another despicable, scandalous Senate reality show. In less than eight months, the Senate presidency changed hands twice. Francis Escudero was replaced by Vicente Sotto III in September 2025, only for Sotto himself to be replaced by Alan Peter Cayetano in May 2026.

The decisive vote came from Sen. Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa, who briefly resurfaced after months of absence following reports of a possible International Criminal Court (ICC) arrest warrant. Having cast the crucial vote that strengthened the Duterte bloc ahead of the impeachment proceedings against Vice President Sara Duterte, he promptly vanished from public view once again — now reportedly holed up in the “Appointed Son of God” Quiboloy’s Prayer Mountain in Davao.

With shifting alliances, volatile majorities and some senators facing various criminal investigations, the Senate increasingly resembles a detention center and a holding cell before Bilibid. Or a political circus where the performers keep changing costumes while the audience is left guessing who actually runs the show.

But this column is not about them. There will be time enough to discuss these clowns in future installments. Instead, let us consider a larger question: the Philippines’ place in the emerging geopolitical order.

For decades, the country has been denigrated through the same familiar vocabulary — corruption, poverty, typhoons, political dysfunction and weak institutions; appearing to be a nation perpetually falling short of its potential. Yet this view fundamentally misunderstands the country.

As Singaporean political scientist Kishore Mahbubani often argued, many Western analysts continue to view Asia through outdated assumptions. The Philippines is perhaps one of their biggest blind spots.

Because beneath the noise of domestic politics lies a simple reality: while Filipinos remain distracted by the latest Senate drama, the world’s major powers are paying increasing attention to the Philippines. For all its dysfunctions, the country has quietly become one of the most strategically important states in the Indo-Pacific.

Two engines of Filipino resilience

 The country grew on two massive economic engines that most outsiders barely grasp. The first is the Filipino diaspora. Millions of overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) span nearly every continent on Earth. They build infrastructure in the Middle East, crew global shipping fleets, staff hospitals across Europe and North America, and keep entire segments of the international service economy running.

Their remittances now exceed $40 billion annually — more than 8 percent of Philippine GDP. This is not simply migration. It is an enormous global labor infrastructure powered by Filipino human capital.

The second engine is even less understood. Despite its reputation as a developing economy, the Philippines plays a critical role in the global semiconductor supply chain. The country ranks among the world’s major exporters of integrated circuits and microchips, generating nearly $30 billion annually in semiconductor exports alone. Roughly 40 percent of total Philippine exports are tied to electronics and chip manufacturing.

In practical terms, the digital economy — smartphones, servers, cloud systems, AI infrastructure — partially runs through Philippine industrial participation.

The world may not associate Manila with Silicon Valley, but the global technology system quietly depends on Philippine labor and manufacturing every day.

The quiet power of ‘kalinga’

The country’s influence extends far beyond economics. Across hospitals in London, New York, Toronto, Dubai and countless other cities, Filipino nurses and health care workers have become essential pillars of modern health care systems. This global demand exists not merely because Filipinos are technically competent. It is deeply cultural.

The Filipino concept of kalinga — empathy, care and responsibility toward others — evolved into a form of soft power the country never intentionally marketed.

While nations spend billions promoting culture abroad, the Philippines quietly embedded itself into the emotional infrastructure of the modern world. Entire health care systems now rely on Filipino labor not simply because it is affordable, but because it is trusted.

The Philippines in the new Cold War

This economic and cultural leverage naturally translates into geopolitical importance. Within Asean, the Philippines occupies one of the most strategic positions in Asia. It sits directly along the First Island Chain — the maritime corridor central to the growing rivalry between America and China.

For Washington, the Philippines is a critical military and maritime partner. For Beijing, it is both a strategic obstacle and a necessary economic player. This is why both superpowers increasingly compete for influence in Manila.

The Philippines is no longer geopolitically peripheral. It sits directly inside the pressure zone of the 21st century’s defining power struggle.

The great Philippine paradox

 The Philippines became strategically valuable to the world largely despite the failures of its own political leadership. For decades, Filipino workers, nurses, engineers and professionals helped build foreign economies while successive administrations, aided by a compliant Congress and their political dynasties, failed to build a competitive economy at home.

Overseas remittances kept the nation afloat even as corruption, dynastic politics and short-term political calculations weakened long-term development. The country’s resilience came from its people. Its stagnation came from its institutions.

The tragedy is that the Philippines, after World War II, was positioned to become Southeast Asia’s economic leader — possessing strong universities, modern infrastructure and one of Asia’s most skilled English-speaking workforces. Yet while neighboring countries pursued industrialization and economic reform, Philippine leaders became trapped in cycles of patronage, political spectacle and legislative paralysis.

Policies such as the 60-40 ownership restriction — embedded in the 1987 Constitution — were defended as nationalist safeguards but often served as convenient excuses for avoiding meaningful reform. While Thailand, Malaysia and later Vietnam aggressively attracted investment and integrated into global manufacturing networks, the Philippines hesitated.

The result was a familiar pattern: opportunities deferred, reforms diluted and national potential sacrificed to a political system more adept at protecting incumbents than building prosperity.

Yet despite these failures, the Filipino people continued to succeed — often everywhere except in the country they called home.

The cost of dynastic governance

This decline accelerated during the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos Sr. Corruption did not merely enrich political allies and favored oligarchs; it weakened the country’s capacity to develop. The Bataan Nuclear Power Plant became its enduring symbol — a costly debt-financed project that never delivered the energy it promised.

Resources that could have funded infrastructure, education, health care and industrial growth instead flowed into debt payments, patronage networks, corruption and elite fortunes.

Meanwhile, genuine agrarian reform remained elusive, leaving vast landholdings in the hands of powerful families and millions trapped in rural poverty. Unlike South Korea and Taiwan, the Philippines never completed the structural reforms needed to build a strong industrial middle class.

The final lesson

And yet, despite everything, the Philippines endured. It survived dictatorship, financial crises, natural disasters, foreign pressure, and decades of institutional dysfunction without collapsing.

That resilience is not accidental. It is rooted in the adaptability, mobility, and social cohesion of the Filipino people themselves. The world already understands the strategic value of the Filipino worker, the Filipino nurse, the Filipino engineer and the Philippines’ geographic position.

Washington understands it. Beijing understands it. Global markets understand it.

But will we survive our own political class — the Senate, the House and leadership that have too often squandered the future entrusted to them?

To be concluded on June 10, 2026.