When Convictions Compromise

Every election season, the Philippine political landscape finds itself at a crossroads — a familiar dance between the establishment, often cloaked in the robes of “Traditional Politicians” (TraPos), and the so-called “opposition,” who proclaim themselves as torchbearers of reform and good governance. Names like Pasig Mayor Vico Sotto and former Vice President Leni Robredo have often emerged as symbols of honest and ethical public service, and to their credit, they’ve earned that trust through years of hard work. 

But in a democracy, trust must never be given unconditionally. No one is above scrutiny. Not our enemies, not our idols — not even figures of good governance.

Good governance, after all, is not a brand. It is not a hashtag you post or a pink ribbon you wear. It is an ethos: a non-negotiable demand for transparency, accountability, participatory decision-making, and a relentless prioritization of public welfare over self-preservation or dynastic ambition. 

The Philippine Daily Inquirer once noted in an article that “exemplary leaders demonstrate competence, passion, and a readiness to engage deeply with constituents’ needs, transcending mere political rhetoric.” But in this country, what often transcends rhetoric is betrayal—betrayal of ideals, principles, and of the people who believed change is finally possible.

Nowhere is this more stark than in the quiet heartbreak of endorsements gone wrong. Take former Vice President Leni Robredo — the paragon of “good governance” in 2022. She inspired millions, galvanized the youth, and became a symbol of resistance against tyranny. Then, in one eyebrow-raising move, she endorsed the Senate candidacies of former Senator Manny Pacquiao and former DILG Secretary Benhur Abalos — two figures with entirely different political convictions and track records, some of which directly contradict the values Robredo’s base fought for tooth and nail.

It was a moment that sent shockwaves across her support base. While some scrambled to rationalize it —calling it strategy or bridge-building— others could not ignore the bitter irony: the very woman who warned us against transactional politics appeared to have dipped her toes into the same political swamp she once condemned.

However, Robredo is not alone. Koko Pimentel, whose father was a towering figure in the fight against the Marcos dictatorship, endorsed the full senatorial slate of Bongbong Marcos. Yes, the same family that persecuted his father and dismantled democracy. The same family that was responsible for billions stolen and decades lost. It is the political equivalent of handing the keys to the vault back to the robbers and telling them, “Welcome home.”

Even journalist-turned-politician Sol Aragones, once seen as a voice of truth, endorsed Dante Marcoleta, the very man who helped in engineering the ABS-CBN shutdown. That’s not just a tactical pivot. That’s a moral drive.

This is where the dam breaks. When leaders who once symbolized integrity begin to justify the unjustifiable in the name of “political strategy,” what we’re left with is a broken electorate forced to choose between cynicism and disillusionment. Can a politician truly champion good governance while cozying up to those who stand against it? Can you claim to be a reformist while propping up the enablers of regression?  These aren’t contradictions — they’re red flags.

Some analysts will argue that politics is about pragmatism, that in a fragmented system like ours, to compromise is to survive. They say alliances with ideological opposites are sometimes necessary to “get things done.” But let’s be honest — what exactly are we getting done when our leaders keep compromising with the forces that drag us backward? What we're normalizing is not realism — it’s rot. It's the slow corrosion of principles, dressed up as tactical brilliance. And it's been happening for far too long.

This is where the electorate comes in — or should. Because in a democracy, silence is complicity, and uncritical loyalty is a form of civic laziness. Our job is not to worship our leaders. It is to watch them. To interrogate them. To call them out when they fail. Certainly, even to vote them out when necessary. If we only hold corrupt politicians accountable while giving our favorites a free pass, then we are not building a democracy — we are just swapping one cult for another.

Criticism is not betrayal. In a functioning democracy, criticism is an act of patriotism. It is how progress happens — not through blind devotion, but through painful conversations and uncomfortable truths. The moment we decide that certain people are above accountability because we like them is the moment democracy dies — not with a bang, but with a flattering shrug.

Therefore, we must be relentless. We must demand transparency not just from those we oppose, but from those we elect. We must question every alliance, scrutinize every endorsement, and challenge every convenient pivot — not because we want to tear them down, but because we want them to be better. Because we believe they can be better. 

In a true democracy, even our heroes must be accountable.

Article: Kyan Miguel San Agustin

Graphics: Danielle Barredo