I JUST watched Alex Eala lose to Belinda Bencic a few minutes ago as I write this, and it occurred to me that her loss could provide the perfect coda to my three-part examination of our domestic political dynamics: “The Philippines — strong people, weak state”; “The president we keep waiting for”; and “Why institutions never outgrow presidents.” The theme running through all three is simple: the Filipinos are a great people shortchanged by their political leadership.
The Filipino is not the problem
We are a nation whose people excel abroad in almost every human endeavor, particularly in countries where competence and merit are rewarded and institutions are stronger than personalities. Alex is my exemplar. But so are millions of OFWs who leave their families behind and discover in foreign lands that Filipinos can compete with the best when the playing field is reasonably level and the rules actually mean something.
And then they come home.
They return to a country whose political system too often negates the very qualities that allow them to flourish elsewhere: merit, discipline, accountability and respect for rules. When Alex came home a fortnight ago to receive the adulation of Filipinos and the praises of our president and government, there was an irony we perhaps failed to notice.
Outside Malacañang, the country was watching another great political confrontation, in the hallowed halls of the Senate, no less — making a mockery of a constitutional assertion — senator/judges in an impeachment proceedings performing as partisan prosecutors and defense lawyers. Inside Malacañang, it was celebrating a young Filipino whose rise was built on discipline, merit and measurable performance. Two very different Philippine stories occurring almost simultaneously.
We honored a young Filipino woman whose success was built upon precisely those qualities our political system has difficulty rewarding. Nobody gave Alex a tennis match because of her surname. No political patron could appoint her into the quarterfinals. No dynasty could inherit her ranking. No padrino could negotiate away a double fault. The umpire does not ask which family you belong to before making the call.
You perform — or you lose.
If only our Republic is run that way.
While the country was cheering
For while we feted Alex, Filipinos elsewhere were again wading through floodwaters and asking familiar questions about flood control projects, contractors and missing accountability.
Our political leaders, meanwhile, were doing what they do exceedingly well: fighting one another.
The nation is consumed by the impeachment battle surrounding VP Sara. Alliances are being assembled and dismantled. Accusations fly. Political families reposition themselves. Even some of my own friends are already distracting themselves with the most premature of Philippine political pastimes: Who will be president in 2028?
Sara? Someone else? Who can win? Who can defeat whom? Have we learned nothing?
We have spent three columns arguing that whoever becomes president enters the same political architecture — one capable of chewing up reformers, accommodating mediocrities, and converting even good intentions into political compromises.
Yet here we are again, searching for our next savior before we have finished quarreling over the present one — Leni, Sara, Raffy, Bam — or the actor Robinhood! While Alex was learning to defeat the person across the net, Philippine politics was already deciding who should occupy Malacañang. Apparently, presidential elections are our national version of changing the driver while refusing to repair the car.
When government goes underwater
Consider the floods. Rain is a natural phenomenon. Flooding may sometimes be unavoidable. But when drainage systems repeatedly fail, projects exist on paper while communities remain underwater, contractors prosper while citizens suffer, and investigations commence only after public outrage, we are no longer discussing meteorology. We are discussing institutions.
The same principle applies to impeachment. Whether one supports or opposes Sara is secondary to a larger question: Can our constitutional mechanisms investigate wrongdoing fairly, establish facts credibly and impose accountability without becoming instruments of factional warfare?
Strong institutions should investigate a vice president without persecution, defend one without favoritism, punish wrongdoing without vengeance and establish innocence without political accommodation. Otherwise, justice depends upon who controls the machinery. And that is where things become interesting.
And who judges the judges?
Take Sen. Loren Legarda. Her son, Batangas Rep. Leandro Leviste, built Solar Philippines and secured for his Solar Para sa Bayan a 25-year congressional franchise in 2019. He was a 25-year-old billionaire — kuno!
Before approval, the franchise drew objections from energy groups, cooperatives and legislators, who warned of unusual advantages for one company; an ethics complaint alleged Legarda used influence to favor her son’s enterprise.
To be fair, Legarda abstained when the Senate voted on the franchise. There is no evidence that she voted to enrich her son. But the matter did not end there.
Last July 31, the Ombudsman ordered a preliminary investigation into plunder and graft complaints involving Legarda, Leviste and former energy secretary Alfonso Cusi concerning solar projects and some P10.44 billion in alleged unpaid government obligations. Investigators are examining allegations that Legarda helped her son secure government privileges.
Legarda has categorically denied the accusations as false and baseless. She deserves the presumption of innocence. But notice the institutional comedy. A sitting senator facing questions about her own exercise of public influence may nevertheless sit in judgment upon the alleged misconduct of a vice president.
And she is hardly alone in inhabiting our strange ecosystem of accusers, accused, investigators and judges. Several politicians associated with controversies surrounding flood control projects have themselves faced allegations or investigations. Yesterday’s investigator can become today’s accused; today’s accused may become tomorrow’s judge.
Only in Philippine politics can the players occasionally serve as referees — and then argue about where the goalposts should be.
This is not about declaring Legarda or anyone else guilty. It is about a system where legislators grant franchises, political families enter regulated businesses, government agencies supervise privileges politicians themselves created — and eventually politicians sit in judgment upon one another.
Build the court, not another savior
Which brings me back to Alex. On a tennis court, your mother cannot move the baseline for you. Your surname cannot lengthen the service box. A padrino cannot whisper to the umpire that perhaps 40-love could be reconsidered.
The lines existed before Alex arrived. That is what institutions are supposed to mean. Build the court properly. Draw the lines clearly. Establish the rules beforehand. Find competent officials to enforce them. Reward performance. Penalize violations. Then allow human talent to flourish.
Alex will win some matches and lose others. Her loss to Bencic actually makes the metaphor better. A functioning system does not guarantee victory. It guarantees a fair opportunity to earn it.
That is what millions of Filipinos discover abroad. We keep looking for another president to save the Philippines when perhaps we should finally build a Philippines that does not need saving by a president.
We do not need a Republic that promises every Filipino victory.
We need a Republic where nobody — president, vice president, senator, dynasty or padrino — gets to move the lines.
Alex already has such a court.
It is time the Filipino people had one too.
lito.lorenzana@cdpi.asia
