THERE is a word that rarely finds its way into political discourse, especially in moments of crisis. It is a word that sounds almost out of place amid the noise of outrage, the frenzy of blame and the constant demand for instant solutions. That word is charity.
Not charity in the narrow sense of material giving, though that, too, has its place. Not merely the act of handing out coins to a jeepney driver, tipping a rider more than usual, or extending small gestures of generosity to service workers struggling to cope with rising costs. These acts matter, but they only scratch the surface of what charity truly demands.
The deeper, more difficult form of charity is patience. It is the willingness to withhold judgment, to resist the pull of easy outrage and to grant space for complexity in a world that increasingly rewards simplistic conclusions. It is, above all, the discipline of understanding before condemning.
We are once again in the midst of a crisis shaped by forces far beyond our shores. The ongoing conflict in the Middle East has disrupted global oil markets, sending shock waves across economies already burdened by inflation and fragile recovery. Fuel prices rise, transport costs follow and the ripple effects are felt by everyone, from daily commuters to small entrepreneurs.
In such moments, the instinct to assign blame is immediate and relentless. President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. has become the convenient focal point of public frustration, as if the complexities of a global oil crisis can be reduced to the decisions of a single individual. This is not to suggest that the president is beyond criticism. But there is a difference between accountability and reflexive condemnation.
What we are witnessing is not merely political critique. It is the erosion of reasoned discourse. The crisis is framed as a failure of leadership alone, ignoring the structural and external forces that constrain any government’s response. The president is navigating a landscape where every possible intervention carries its own set of consequences.
Consider the clamor to increase transport fares. On the surface, it appears compassionate toward drivers whose incomes are eroded by rising fuel costs. But what of commuters already stretched thin by inflation? Increasing fares simply shifts the burden on to those who may have even less capacity to absorb it. Policy decisions in this context are not about choosing between right and wrong but between competing harms.
Then there is the recurring demand to suspend or reduce excise taxes on fuel. This proposal surfaces almost predictably, often framed as an obvious solution. Yet it is anything but simple. Excise taxes are a major source of government revenue, funding programs that sustain the broader economy. Removing them creates fiscal gaps that must be filled through borrowing or reduced public spending.
More importantly, there is no assurance that suspending excise taxes will translate into lower prices. There is also the fact that fuel pricing operates on the principle of replacement cost. Even if current stocks were acquired at lower prices, they are priced based on the cost of replenishing them at prevailing market rates.
And yet, these nuances are drowned out by the noise of public discourse. Instead, we see a familiar spectacle of critics from all sides. Leftists, diehard Duterte supporters, and even figures within the president’s own political circle, all seize the moment to advance their agendas. Even Sen. Imee Marcos has not ceased her pointed, at times below-the-belt tirades aimed at her own brother, the president, while Sen. Loren Legarda, in a moment bordering on political theater, chose to grandstand while literally standing as she demanded more from the administration. These interventions often deepen confusion rather than clarify the policy space.
It is in this environment that charity becomes not just a moral virtue but a civic necessity.
To be charitable is to recognize that governance is never simple. It is shaped by constraints, trade-offs and uncertainty. It requires leaders to choose the least harmful option among many imperfect alternatives.
Charity also demands that we turn inward and examine our own role in amplifying noise and misinformation. Social media rewards outrage, not nuance. It encourages reaction rather than reflection, conformity rather than critical thinking.
Perhaps the most radical act today is to resist that impulse. To pause. To ask why fuel prices rise even when stocks were bought at lower prices. To understand why suspending taxes is not a guaranteed remedy.
These are not trivial questions. They are the foundation of informed citizenship.
The Easter season reminds us that charity is not about absolving those in power of responsibility. It is about creating the conditions for meaningful engagement, where critique is grounded in understanding and reason, rather than emotion.
Dissent remains essential in a democracy. But dissent that is uninformed and driven by opportunism does little to advance the public good. It deepens division and obscures the path toward real solutions.
There are those who would welcome government failure because it feeds their political narratives. Crises become platforms for amplification and mobilization. This is a reality we must confront.
But for ordinary citizens who simply want stability and survival in difficult times, the imperative is different. It is not to add to the noise but to rise above it.
Charity, then, becomes an act of resistance. It is the refusal to be swept away by outrage. It is the commitment to engage with issues in their full complexity. It is the recognition that, in times of crisis, the most meaningful contribution is not the loudest voice but the most thoughtful one.
In the end, our response to this crisis will be measured not by the volume of our criticism but by the depth of our understanding. It will be reflected in our ability to hold leaders accountable while acknowledging the constraints they face, and in our willingness to choose reason over rhetoric.
If there is a gift we can offer one another this Easter, it is this: patience, reflection and charity in its fullest sense. For in extending these to others, we ultimately extend them to ourselves.
The author is a professor at the University of the Philippines Los Baños and vice chairman of the state-run PTVNI.
