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Quezon’s Curse
Did Manuel L. Quezon, the second president of the Philippines who served from 1935 to 1944, unknowingly curse the nation when he declared, “I would rather have a government run like hell by Filipinos than a government run like heaven by Americans”?
The Americans eventually ceased governing the Philippines by force after the Second World War. It was not independence that the Filipinos were granted on July 4, 1946, but freedom. The Americans did not save the Philippines from Spain, as some uninformed Filipinos and the rest of the world wrongly thought. The US coerced Spain into selling the island to them. So, the Philippines was passed by a colonial tyrant to another… to a more powerful and ruthless tyrant.
Let this be clear… The US did not save the Philippines from Spain. The former forcibly grabbed our nation from the latter.
When the Americans finally turned over the reins of government to Filipinos, Quezon could have been the happiest man alive had he lived to witness it. At last, the Philippines had a government run by its own people.
But as the saying goes, “Be careful what you wish for.”
Our country has since been governed by Filipino politicians. Given the Philippines’ governance over the decades, how would we assess the performance of those who have served in the different branches of government since the Americans passed the baton of leadership?
Only the blind — and those who benefit from the system — would deny how badly the nation has deteriorated. Only the naïve would refuse to see that the Filipino spirit seems lost. Like a dried leaf in autumn, it drifts wherever the wind blows. The Filipino identity has become like a shattered mirror. Each broken piece reflects a different truth, yet none shows the whole picture of who we once were or what we should be as a people.
As a nation, we are as fragmented as the islands that form our archipelago. The colonial strategy of “divide and conquer,” once used to weaken and subjugate us, continues to linger in our society. Even today, it keeps us deeply divided.
And all this appears to trace back to what now feels like Quezon’s curse — “a government run like HELL by Filipinos.”
For how long have we been led by politicians who seem to have descended from hell itself? Would it be unfair to describe members of the executive and legislative branches as soulless demons who take turns plunging their hands into the nation’s coffers, depriving the people of the services and opportunities they deserve? And what of those in the judiciary and the military who appear to look the other way?
One cannot help but recall the countless anomalous “flood control projects” — billions poured into programs meant to protect communities, yet every year, towns and cities continue to drown while only a select few grow richer. What was supposed to shield the people from disaster has instead become another avenue for plunder.
The sad reality is that the Filipino people cannot simply play the victim. It was Filipinos themselves who summoned these demons from the depths of hell and enthroned them in Malacañang and in Congress. In short, they voted for them. And the sadder part is that even now, when it is clear as day that the devils they have chosen are guilty of corruption, many still continue to support them.
Thus, Quezon’s pronouncement refers not only to Filipino politicians but also to the Filipinos who placed them in power.
“Kawawang Inang Bayan.”
Would we not, at times, be tempted to think that perhaps we would have been better off had the Americans continued to run our government?
Would we not be tempted to accept their old justification for staying on Philippine soil — that Filipinos were not ready for self-governance?
Yet perhaps Quezon did not curse us at all.
Perhaps what he offered was not a prophecy of doom but a challenge — a declaration of faith in the Filipino people’s capacity to govern themselves, to learn from their mistakes, and to shape their own destiny. The tragedy is not that Filipinos were given the reins of government. The tragedy is that, over time, many surrendered vigilance, traded principles for convenience, and allowed power to fall into the hands of the few.
A government “run like hell by Filipinos” was never meant to be permanent. It was meant to be corrected by an awakened citizenry. Democracy was supposed to be a system in which bad leaders could be removed, corruption punished, and the people remain the true sovereign.
But when a nation grows tired, when poverty silences voices, and when hope is repeatedly betrayed, tyranny does not need foreigners to thrive. It is cultivated from within.
Quezon’s words were not a curse. They were a warning wrapped in hope.
What turned that hope into hell was not Filipino governance itself, but Filipino complacency. We allowed demons to rise not because we were incapable of self-rule, but because we stopped guarding it fiercely.
In the end, the real question is not whether Quezon cursed us.
The real question is whether we, as a people, abandoned the responsibility that freedom demanded.
The More Painful Injustice
ICC’s decision denying former President Rodrigo Duterte’s request for interim release elicited different reactions. As expected, his supporters grieved; his critics rejoiced. Social media erupted. Commentaries burst like fireworks. Lawyers, influencers, and armchair experts all rushed forward with their own interpretations and opinions.
But buried beneath this noise is a truth many refuse to acknowledge: the corruption allegations against the sitting political powers remain unresolved, uninvestigated, and—most damning—protected.
And yes, we should not disregard the corruption committed by previous administrations as well.
At this juncture, we must confront the question everyone keeps tiptoeing around:
If extrajudicial killings can be considered a crime against humanity, what then do we call the corruption allegedly committed by officials of the incumbent government—corruption so massive it starved hospitals, crippled schools, and robbed the poorest Filipinos of the help they desperately needed?
What do we call leaders who tolerated the theft, shielded the thieves, and—worst of all—turned out to be thieves themselves?
Which is the greater sin: the murder of a few thousand, or the plunder of billions?
Who committed the graver crime: the fingers that pulled the trigger, or the hands that emptied the nation’s coffers?
The corruption committed by those in power—whether yesterday or today—is not petty, not the old excuse of “traditional politics,” and not the sanitized label of a “budget anomaly.”
This is plunder disguised as governance.
Billions meant for healthcare vanished while patients slept on floors, dying without medicine.
Billions meant for classrooms disappeared while children learned beneath leaking roofs.
Billions meant for poverty alleviation were used by the corrupt officials to fatten their bank accounts.
Every peso stolen by those in power translates to: a child who goes hungry, a mother who dies untreated, a worker whose future evaporates, a community trapped in poverty, a family whose hope is extinguished.
We must stop pretending corruption is merely a financial crime.
It is a human rights violation with casualties, as real and as tragic as any body found in an alley.
The painful irony?
One man faces the hostile ICC for killings.
But the many government officials accused of stealing the nation’s lifeblood face the friendly ICI who might possibly give them a simple slap on the wrist.
The ICC cannot touch them — and that is their shield under the Rome Statute, the ICC only prosecutes:
genocide
crimes against humanity
war crimes
aggression
Corruption—no matter how destructive—does not qualify.
The ICC can examine killings linked to a past administration.
But the alleged plunder committed under the current administration is untouchable.
They are shielded not by innocence, but by the ICC’s jurisdiction.
They know it.
Their lawyers know it.
Their political allies know it.
This is why they look unbothered.
This is why they speak as if justice is optional.
Because for corruption, under international law,
The Hague has no handcuffs.
But viewed through the lens of the United Nations Convention Against Corruption (UNCAC), the crime committed by corrupt members of the Executive and Legislative branches of the Philippine government remains evident.
The Philippines is bound by the United Nations Convention Against Corruption (UNCAC).
Under UNCAC, corruption is not merely illegal. It is seen as a violation of human dignity.
Corruption becomes a human rights offense when it deprives citizens of healthcare, destroys education systems, blocks justice through political interference, deepens poverty, and kills through neglect and substandard infrastructure.
Every bridge that collapses because of corruption, every medicine that never reaches a dying patient, every student robbed of a proper education—these are casualties of today’s corruption.
UN bodies cannot jail individual senators, cabinet members, or presidents. But they can expose a government’s failures. They can embarrass a nation on the global stage. They can pressure for reforms and sanctions. They can help freeze stolen assets hidden abroad. And they can force the world to see what our own institutions refuse to confront.
And in the quiet between outrage and applause, a single question remains: Whose crime weighs heavier on the nation’s soul?
Let us stop pretending this is a simple comparison.
Duterte is being investigated for the bodies we saw. But incumbent officials are being accused of crimes whose victims we don’t always see— because the victims are the millions who are slowly suffocating from poverty, hunger, broken hospitals, broken schools, and broken futures.
A bullet kills instantly.
Corruption kills invisibly.
But the graves are real.
Sometimes, corruption is the quieter executioner.
The true tragedy is not that the ICC is pursuing Duterte.
The tragedy is that the officials accused of bleeding the nation dry will never stand before The Hague, never sit behind glass in an international courtroom, never be held criminally accountable in the same way.
They will sleep soundly knowing that international law cannot touch them—not because they are innocent, but because their crimes fall outside the narrow definition of “crimes against humanity.”
They are safe. Not because they are righteous.
But because corruption is not in the ICC’s vocabulary.
And that is the Philippines’ most painful injustice.
Pro-politico or Pro-Filipino?
A Personal Stand
While I was enjoying the Chuseok celebrations here in South Korea, I received two calls on two separate days asking if I could join the “meet-and-greet a politico” at the end of this month at the Philippine Embassy here. I politely declined.
Before extending the invitation, I was first asked about my political sentiments. I candidly said I don’t like to meet any politicos nowadays – not Marcos, nor Duterte, nor any of those pretending to be public servants “pero mandarambong pala.” They are all responsible for the sufferings of the Filipino people. Only those who were born yesterday, blind, and naïve would not acknowledge this. They are ALL guilty and should be held accountable. I’m giving the benefit of the doubt to the neophytes in Congress (who did not serve in the 19th Congress) and new members of the Cabinet.
I told those people who invited me that I have decided not to support any political personality. Amidst all the political turmoil and government dysfunction, I would like to take not a “pro-politico, ” but a “pro-Filipino” stance. Attending that gathering is tantamount to turning a blind eye to their wrongdoings.
Actually, I coined an expression that is very appropriate for those guilty of plunder and malversation of public funds… “BUWAYANG INA N’YO.” I am afraid I might blurt this out when I see a politico nowadays. Just imagine if I were to hurl this invective in the face of one in that gathering.
Half-jokingly, I said I hope my passport will not be revoked because of my political beliefs.
The Semantics of Corruption
I offer no apologies for using the word ‘politico’ (instead of ‘politician’) in the title. The word is considered derogatory, yet it is the most appropriate way to describe most elected (and appointed) members of the legislative and executive branches of our government.
An online dictionary says, “You can describe a politician as a politico, especially if you do not like them or approve of what they do.” Let me ask you, “Do you approve of what those people in the government do?” Another online dictionary defines ‘politico’ this way: “someone who will do anything to win an election.” The worst example of “will do anything” is “vote buying.” Are the politicos you are supporting not guilty of this? Chat GPT puts its best: “Politico suggests a type of politician – often one driven by ambition, opportunism, or self-interest.”
How I hate “Grammarly” for insisting that I use “politician” instead of “politico.” The algorithm must not know that “politician” is too kind a word for our breed of thieves in barongs.
It fails to grasp that “politico” carries the stench of corruption that “politician” politely hides.
And please, let’s stop addressing them as honorable. They don’t deserve it. They are very much the opposite of that word. “Puwede bang ituring na kagalang-galang ang mga dorobo?”
So, I ask you: Are you pro-politico or pro-Filipino?
The Nation Plundered
The politicos are slowly destroying our nation. They will continue to do so unless we take action. Through the years, they have systematically plundered the nation’s coffers. What were once mere allegations are now supported by emerging evidence, showing that members of both the legislative and executive branches have been dividing the national budget among themselves like a cake. Each takes a slice, along with the icing, leaving only crumbs for the Filipino people.
The greater tragedy is that the Filipino electorate continues to vote for the same politicos. Voters in the Philippines often elect members of the same political clans, as if nobody else is capable of leading the country but those from their own clan.
And what have we gained from voting for them? Did our nation prosper under their leadership? Did voting for them put food on your tables or roofs over your heads?
The Filipino people themselves put the reins of government in the hands of a small group of individuals —the political clans in the Philippines. They are the politicos controlling our nation, its organizations, and institutions.
You may disagree with it, but the Philippines is actually not a democracy, but an oligarchy. The government is run, either directly or indirectly, by the country’s oligarchs, who are also politicos.
The Silence of Institutions
And do you think these oligarch-politicos will ever be convicted of plunder and malversation of public funds? Well, hope springs eternal. But the way I see it, “mga dilis lang at bangus ang huhulihin; iyong mga pating at balyena ay pakakawalan.”
Where was the Supreme Court amidst all the brouhahas? Gentlemen and ladies in robes, “Hindi po kayo safe.” I am not a lawyer (and please correct me if I am wrong), but the judicial branch of the government has constitutional authority to review actions of the legislative and executive branches, including the passage and implementation of the national budget, if these acts violate the Constitution.
The Supreme Court had a chance to stop the bleeding — to halt the implementation of a budget marred by secrecy and excess. How? By issuing a temporary restraining order (TRO). They did not (am I right?). Instead, it looked away.
Judicial silence, in times of moral crisis, is complicity dressed in robes.
Was that judicial restraint, political caution, or internal division? Whatever the case, the result was the same: the budget proceeded while constitutional questions lingered unanswered.
The Fourth Estate, Bought and Sold
“Paano na? Kanino tayo tatakbo ngayon?” The nation is plundered by the members of the executive and legislative branches of government, and the judiciary is doing nothing. Can we run to the Fourth Estate, the fourth pillar of our democracy – the press or mass media? Unfortunately, NO! Search for the meaning of “envelope journalism” and you’ll know why I said so.
The media moguls, who are often oligarchs themselves, are businessmen. The media is intended to safeguard the truth and hold power accountable. But when it sells its soul to the highest bidder, it ceases to be the people’s voice and becomes the regime’s echo.
That’s how grave our situation has become in the Philippines. The legislative and executive branches plunder the nation’s wealth with impunity, while the judiciary looks away, pretending blindness in the face of daylight robbery. The fourth estate, once the voice of truth, now speaks in the language of those who can afford to pay for silence. In a nation where justice sleeps and journalism is bought, who then speaks for the Filipino?
The People’s Guilt
Can the Filipinos rely on themselves?
The answer is very disheartening. Filipinos throw mud at the very politicos they helped elect. They fail to see that they, too, have benefited from the money stolen from the nation’s coffers through the cash handed to them during election season. By accepting that money, they become accomplices. Their hands are as dirty as the politicos they condemn.
Were you born yesterday? Are you blind? Are you naive?
Those born yesterday are the ones who do not understand the concept of “command responsibility.” Those who are blind cannot see that the politicos have been siphoning money from the national coffers to their personal bank accounts. Those who are naive pretend not to know that even the politicos they support are guilty of plunder and malversation of public funds.
It’s time to remove the blindfold—and see our nation for what it has become, and how much the politicos have destroyed it.
As a nation, we have a decision to make. “Patuloy ba tayong magpapagamit at magpapauto sa mga tulisang pulitiko?
The Call to Conscience
We, the Filipino people, are the salvation of our nation. If these “buwayang inang” politicos will not heed the call for them all to resign, at the very least, let’s not vote for them in the next election. Let’s remove the oligarchs from the political landscape. Let them enrich themselves through their legitimate businesses, not through our national budget.
Perhaps it is time we stopped pledging allegiance to politicos and started standing for the people, for the Filipinos, for the Philippines. For once in your life, abandon the political personalities you are supporting until you have proven beyond a reasonable doubt that they are not guilty of plunder and malversation of public funds.
To be pro-Filipino is to reject the culture of impunity that thrives in envelopes, offices, and chambers of power. It is believed that love for country begins not in applause for politicos, but in outrage against their deceit.
For the soul of our nation, silence is no longer an option.
M.A.D. LIGAYA
M.A.D. L I G A Y A 