A Path Not Taken

 The 51st Star: What If the Philippines Became a U.S. State in 1946?

In an alternative universe, the Philippines is not granted independence on July 4, 1946. Instead, the flag of the United States gets one more star—representing a beautiful Pacific archipelago. Overnight, every Filipino becomes a U.S. citizen. Soldiers who fought in Bataan are entitled to the GI Bill. Their children no longer dream of visas; they dream of Yale, UCLA, or even community college in Houston. 

And Philippine history further diverges. It doesn’t enter the fragile and unsure dawn of the new republic. Instead, it joins America’s Union, with all the chaotic, dazzling, and perilous consequences that follow.

The Philippines Could Have Been Like Hawaii

The Hawaii Model is the bright, postcard version of Philippine history. Federal money flows steadily into highways, ports, bridges, and power grids across the islands. FEMA becomes a familiar presence, swooping in after typhoons to restore order, turning what used to be national tragedies into survivable events. Veterans’ benefits stimulate suburban-style developments, with neat homes and manicured lawns sprouting outside Manila and Cebu. Middle-class prosperity grows not from remittances but from domestic wages and federal transfers.

Tourism would have surged to levels unimaginable in our actual timeline. With American standards of safety, infrastructure, and marketing, Manila and Cebu could have become Pacific versions of Miami, while Palawan rivaled Hawaii as a vacation magnet. Instead of sending millions abroad to work as bellhops, nurses, and seafarers, Filipinos would have hosted millions of Americans flying in for leisure.

But the Hawaii path is not just about wealth—it’s about identity. Statehood would have bound Filipinos’ sense of self more tightly to the United States, reducing the cultural schizophrenia of being both Asian and Western yet fully neither. English would have solidified as the lingua franca, while fiestas, cuisine, and folk traditions found themselves woven into America’s larger multicultural fabric.

Asian Tiger: Quezon City Could Have Been Silicon Valley East

The Asian Tiger Model would have thrust the Philippines onto the global stage as an innovation hub firmly under American auspices. Statehood meant federal management—FBI investigations, Justice Department indictments, and federal courts unwilling to tolerate the systemic graft that had weighed down the Philippines for so long.

That kind of governance would have unlocked an economic miracle. Quezon City might have become a Silicon Valley East, where American venture capital poured into Filipino startups in aerospace, semiconductors, and defense contracting. Engineers from Diliman and Los Baños would not be fleeing abroad but leading NASA projects, while Filipino coders would have written the software running Wall Street’s trading floors.

And perhaps most transformatively: the Pinoy brain drain could have been a Pinoy  brain loop. Instead of the best Pinoy minds leaving permanently, they would circulate—Manila to San Jose, Cebu to Seattle, Davao to Houston—returning with knowledge, capital, and networks.

In this version, the Pinoy psyche grows prouder, more disciplined, and less cynical.

The Puerto Rico Model

In the Puerto Rico Model, statehood translates not into dynamism but into dependency. Of course, there are food stamps, Medicare, and Medicaid, but these become lifelines rather than catalysts. Typhoons devastate communities, FEMA always arrives, yet rebuilding feels endless. Infrastructure grows old before it is repaired. Washington becomes both the benefactor and the bottleneck.

In the Puerto Rico Model, statehood hasn’t meant progress but reliance. Federal aid like food stamps, Medicare, and Medicaid keep people afloat, but these don’t lead to real growth. After every typhoon, FEMA steps in, yet rebuilding never seems to finish. Roads, bridges, and buildings wear out faster than they get fixed. Washington provides the money, but also controls the pace—helping, yet holding things back at the same time.

The economy under this path never quite takes off. Inter-island shipping remains lethargic, inflating the cost of goods. Factories struggle, ports remain clogged, and industries migrate elsewhere in Asia. As opportunities stagnate, millions leave for California, Texas, Hawaii, and New York.

Most tragic of all, the culture of cynicism persists. Statehood delivers rights, but not rejuvenation. Politics becomes a cycle of pleading and depleting larger aid packages and bailouts. The Philippines remains visible on the US flag but peripheral in the national imagination.

The Cold War Model

The Cold War Model transforms the Philippines into a garrison state—the Pentagon of the Pacific. Subic and Clark bloat into colossal bases supplying Korea and Vietnam. Draft quotas weigh heavily; thousands of Filipinos serve in wars not as allies but as drafted American citizens.

Jobs are plentiful: shipbuilding, logistics, and base services keep families get by. Yet prosperity feels borrowed, contingent on war. When peace comes, bases close, leaving ghost towns behind.

And there are protests. Just as Berkeley raged, so too would Taft Avenue. Students at UP Diliman burn draft cards. Priests pontificate against militarism. Riot police clash with demonstrators. The Philippines becomes America’s Vietnam staging ground, split between those who depend on the bases and those who hate them.

The Turbulent Model

The darkest fork is the Turbulent Model, where statehood delivers rights on paper but discord in practice. Mindanao erupts in unrest, its Muslim population feeling dominated not just by Luzon but now by Washington. Federal troops patrol Cotabato and Davao, bringing back memories of Bud Dajo and Bud Bagsak massacres of 1906 and 1913. Civil rights clashes play out in Davao, Marawi, and Jolo streets.

Meanwhile, corruption, the bane of the Filipino,  refuses to die. Local and national political dynasties adapt, manipulating federal funds and bending rules. FBI indictments trigger resentment rather than reform. Filipinos begin to see Washington as a meddler, not a savior.

The turbulence is not just political—it’s psychological. Citizens grow up half-American, half-Filipino, but fully alienated. They wave the flag without warmth. In this world, statehood produces bitterness, not renewal.

The Path Not Taken

If the Philippines had taken the 51-star path in 1946, America wouldn’t just look different on a flag. It would be different in its soul. The Cold War’s hottest waters would have been home waters. China’s island-building in the South China Sea? Unthinkable. Filipino senators would be running Washington committees, not begging Washington for favors.

If the Philippines had taken the 51-star path in 1946, America wouldn’t just look different on a flag. America would be different in its soul. The tensions of the West Philippine Sea would have occurred in familiar waters and would have happened in the context of America's immense power. China’s island-building in the South China Sea? Unthinkable. And Filipinos as mendicants? Impossible. Filipino senators would be chairing Washington’s powerful committees, not flying across the Pacific to plead for crumbs.

In that alternative universe, the Philippines didn’t merely add a star to Old Glory. It rewrote the American story.

When the Philippines Slammed the Door on History

On September 16, 1991, the Philippine Senate voted to reject the renewal of the U.S.–Philippines Bases Agreement. The decision was celebrated as a triumph of sovereignty, a casting off of colonial chains at Subic and Clark. Thirty-three years later, however, the reckoning is less triumphant and far more sobering. What was billed as “independence” may in fact have been one of the costliest mistakes in modern Philippine history.

The Economic Price was Immediate 

Tens of thousands lost their jobs when Clark and Subic shut down. Local businesses—from jeepney drivers to factory suppliers—collapsed overnight. The U.S. was prepared to inject billions in rent, aid, and infrastructure upgrades. Instead, the Philippines got empty runways, rusting hangars, and the slow conversion of Subic into an industrial park that only partly made up for the devastation. The promise of progress was exchanged for economic dislocation.

The Security Price Was Even Steeper

By closing the bases, the Philippines also closed the door to one of its strongest deterrents. Within four years, China seized Mischief Reef in the Spratlys, exploiting the power vacuum. Our underfunded armed forces, still flying Vietnam-era helicopters and sailing World War II ships, had nothing with which to push back. The symbolism of nationalism had cost us the substance of security.

Geopolitically, the Philippines Surrendered its Leverage

For nearly a century, the country was the United States’ most strategic outpost in Asia. By rejecting the bases, we forced Washington to pivot to Singapore, Thailand, and Australia. The Philippines—sitting at the very throat of the South China Sea—was suddenly reduced to a bystander in a game it once anchored. 

We traded centrality for irrelevance, only to beg for a return through the Visiting Forces Agreement in 1999 and Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement in 2014. By then, Beijing’s artificial islands were already rising from the sea.

The Sovereignty Argument, in Hindsight, Rings Hollow. 

Other nations host U.S. bases on their soil without being reduced to colonial wards. Japan has allowed tens of thousands of American troops on Okinawa for decades, yet remains the world’s third-largest economy and an unmistakably sovereign power. South Korea, with nearly 30,000 U.S. troops stationed there, has grown from war-torn ruin into a technological and cultural giant. 

Even Germany, the beating heart of the European Union, hosts over 35,000 American personnel, yet dictates EU policy from Berlin, not Washington. These countries demonstrate that sovereignty is not weakened but rather strengthened when backed by credible security guarantees.

By contrast, the Philippines chose to conflate nationalism with isolation, waving the flag as the bases shut down. The result was a hollow sovereignty: we kept the symbols but lost the substance. A nation is not less sovereign because it has allies; it is less sovereign when it cannot defend its own seas, cannot secure its own resources, and cannot guarantee prosperity for its own people.

"Magnificent 12"

Looking back, the Senate’s “Magnificent 12” voted with their hearts, but perhaps not with their heads. Sovereignty is precious, but sovereignty without security and prosperity is a hollow boast. A country may wave its flag, but a flag cannot stop missiles nor feed the jobless.

Today, as Chinese coast guard vessels train their water cannons on our resupply missions to Ayungin Shoal, the irony is brutal: we are once again calling on the United States, pleading for joint patrols, security guarantees, and a return of the very presence we once expelled.

In 1991, we told the Americans to leave. Now, in the shadow of a rising China, we realize too late: it was not the Americans we had evicted, but our own future.

The Limits of Sison’s Theory : Why the Communist Movement in the Philippines is Stagnating

 Introduction

Jose Maria Sison, founding chairman of the Communist Party of the Philippines (CPP), provided the ideological backbone of the communist insurgency in the country. His writings, anchored in "Marxism-Leninism-Mao Zedong Thought", laid down the framework for “national-democratic revolution” as the only valid path to Philippine liberation. 

For a time, particularly in the 1970s and 1980s, his ideas galvanized cadres and mobilized thousands. Yet over the decades, the movement has declined, fragmented, and stagnated, and is arguably headed to an ignominous end. While state repression played its part, much of the blame also lies in theoretical errors and Sison’s failure to understand the Philippine context in all its complexity.

Sison’s writings reveal a striking rigidity that ignores the evolving realities of Philippine society. He often insisted on a fixed narrative of unending systemic crisis, while the political system repeatedly showed its capacity to absorb shocks through reforms, elections, and elite realignments. This disconnect between his predictions and lived reality gradually eroded the credibility of his ideological framework.

Moreover, the communist movement under his leadership became increasingly isolated from the everyday aspirations of Filipinos, who sought stability and upward mobility in pragmatic, legal, and economic avenues rather than revolution. 

The introduction of new industries, the opportunities of overseas work, and the cultural resilience of the people highlighted the widening gap between theoretical expectation and social reality. This gap ultimately set the stage for the movement’s decline.

1. Misreading the “Ruling System”

Sison argued that the “ruling system” in the Philippines was in a state of “chronic and ever-worsening crisis” that could only end through revolutionary overthrow. This prediction turned out to be flawed:

- The Philippine state, though weak and plagued with corruption, was never in an unresolvable crisis. It proved resilient, adapting through reforms, elections, elite realignments, and international support.

- Institutions bent without breaking; transitions of power (from Marcos to Aquino, then to subsequent administrations) showed that the system could absorb shocks rather than collapse outright.

- This misdiagnosis blinded the movement to the reality that the state’s survival mechanisms were more robust than Sison’s theory allowed.

2. Underestimating Filipino Resilience

Sison’s framework assumed that worsening economic hardship would automatically radicalize the masses and drive them into revolution. He underestimated the cultural and historical resiliency of the Filipino people:

- Filipinos developed creative ways to survive economic downturns — from "diskarte" and informal side jobs and "rackets", to migration abroad, to "ukay-ukay" clothes, to "pagpag" food, to community sharing, and to extended family support.

- Rather than collapsing into revolutionary desperation, many found ways to adapt. While Sison’s framework assumed hardship would radicalize the masses, in practice these adaptive strategies — which some Marxist analyses might label as distractions from class struggle — functioned as genuine survival mechanisms that prevented widespread revolutionary ferment.

3. Failure to Anticipate Structural Economic Shifts

Sison’s writings treated the Philippine economy as permanently “semi-feudal, semi-colonial,” destined to decay. But this analysis failed to anticipate major structural shifts:

- Rise of Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs): Labor migration provided millions of families with incomes that softened the blows of local poverty, diffusing revolutionary discontent.

- Boom of the Business Process Outsourcing (BPO) industry: From the early 2000s, BPO became a multi-billion-dollar sector, employing hundreds of thousands and providing upward mobility for educated youth.

These developments undercut Sison’s insistence that Philippine society was trapped in semi-feudal stagnation. They revealed a dynamic economy capable of producing new opportunities — an element his static framework did not account for.

4. Disconnection from the Filipino Psyche

Perhaps the most serious flaw was Sison’s estrangement from his own people’s mindset:

- His expectation that Filipinos would embrace the rigors of a protracted people’s war overlooked the fact that many preferred nonviolent, legal, and pragmatic routes to change.

- He underestimated the Filipino capacity to endure hardship with hope, humor, and pragmatism. What he read as passivity was, in reality, a form of resilience and optimism that blunted revolutionary fervor.

- By not truly understanding the Filipino character—adaptive, inventive, and often more interested in improving life through migration, education, or entrepreneurship—Sison overestimated the mass appeal of armed struggle.

5. Consequences of Theoretical Rigidity

Because of these blind spots, the CPP under Sison’s guidance:

- Continued to wage armed struggle even when it had lost strategic resonance.

- Boycotted the 1986 Snap Election, a blunder that forever cast the CPP as a pathetic spectator to the nation’s greatest democratic triumph. 

- Grew increasingly irrelevant to younger generations who saw opportunities in education, overseas work, and BPOs rather than revolution.

Conclusion

Jose Maria Sison’s genius was in crystallizing discontent into a revolutionary framework in 1968, but his tragedy was in failing to update that framework to match Philippine realities. By misjudging the ruling system’s adaptability, underestimating Filipino resilience, ignoring structural economic shifts like OFWs and BPOs, and misunderstanding the Filipino psyche itself, Sison locked the movement into a strategy that no longer fit its terrain. The result was fragmentation, irrelevance, and decline.

The lessons from this failure extend beyond the CPP. They underscore the importance of grounding political theory in a nuanced understanding of national culture, economy, and historical trajectory. Revolutions cannot succeed if they impose borrowed frameworks that misread the people’s actual conditions and capacities.

Ultimately, Sison’s story highlights the limitations of ideological rigidity in a rapidly changing world. While his contributions to Philippine radical thought remain undeniable, his inability to evolve left the movement trapped in outdated strategies. A truly transformative politics must remain open, adaptive, and attuned to the resilience and ingenuity of the Filipino people.

In the end, Sison knew Marx, Lenin, and Mao, but he did not know the Filipino people — their creativity, endurance, and pragmatic pursuit of survival and progress. It was this gap, more than any government counterinsurgency program, that has ensured the defeat of the communist movement in the Philippines.

When Diplomacy Looks to the Sky

 MacArthur’s Theater of Surrender

On September 2, 1945, aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, representatives from the Empire of Japan and from the Allied nations signed the Japanese Instrument of Surrender, bringing World War II to an official end. The moment was solemn, legalistic, and historic. 

But General Douglas MacArthur was not content with signatures alone. As the ink dried, the sky filled with the thunder of nearly a thousand American aircraft—B-29 bombers and carrier planes in majestic formation. MacArthur later explained that this was not a victory parade. It was a warning. If Japan failed to honor the terms of surrender, the devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki could be repeated many times over.

It was theater, yes, but theater with teeth. The Japanese delegates had just bowed to a document; now they bowed, in effect, to the spectacle above their heads. Power had spoken, not in words but in wings.

Alaska 2025: The Choreography of Power

Eighty years later, the setting could not have been more different, yet the logic was eerily familiar. On August 15, 2025, at Joint Base Elmendorf–Richardson in Alaska, Donald Trump welcomed Vladimir Putin for a high-stakes summit. As the two leaders strode down a red carpet—itself lined with F-22 Raptors, the most advanced air-superiority fighters in the world—the air suddenly cracked open. A B-2 stealth bomber swept overhead, flanked by sleek F-35 escorts. The timing was flawless. It was not a coincidence. It was choreography.

Much like MacArthur’s sky parade over Tokyo Bay, the Alaskan flyover was no ceremonial flourish. It was a calculated message. The B-2 is not just another aircraft; it is a nuclear-capable ghost, designed to slip past defenses and deliver devastation anywhere on earth. To have it roar over the tarmac as Trump and Putin met was to remind the Russian leader that beneath the handshakes and photo-ops stood a vast arsenal—silent, watchful, and ready.

Spectacle as Substance

The parallels are instructive. MacArthur’s flyover was about closure, sealing the surrender of a defeated nation. Trump’s was about opening, setting the tone for talks with a rival who was anything but defeated. One sought to hammer in finality; the other to establish leverage. Yet both moments reveal the same truth: in diplomacy, spectacle can be as decisive as substance.

Because airpower is more than a weapon. It is a symbol. When hundreds of bombers filled the skies in 1945, they told Japan: "You are finished." When the B-2 glided over Alaska in 2025, it told Putin, "Do not mistake diplomacy for weakness." Both moments turned the sky into a stage, where power was not theorized but enacted.

Two Audiences, Two Messages

But here’s the irony. These displays are never aimed only at the adversary. They are also for the home audience. Americans in 1945 needed to see Japan’s defeat made real, tangible, in smoke and steel. Americans in 2025 needed reassurance that their president still commanded the most advanced arsenal in the world. The flyovers served a dual purpose: to awe abroad and to reassure at home.

The Risks of Brinkmanship

And yet, as with all theater, there is risk. Spectacle stabilizes but also provokes. A bomber in the sky can deter, but it can also inflame. MacArthur’s flyover underscored American dominance at the end of a total war. Trump’s, by contrast, played out in a world still very much in contest, where Putin could interpret the gesture as insult as easily as deterrence. Brinkmanship thrives on this ambiguity. That is its essence: keeping the adversary unsure whether the show of force is a mere show or the prelude to something worse.

Power Seen Is Power Believed

The lesson is that power, to be credible, must be seen. This is why states invest in parades, flyovers, and carefully staged demonstrations of might. It is not only about what they can do but also about what others believe they will do. In that sense, MacArthur in Tokyo Bay and Trump in Alaska were not just military leaders or presidents. They were playwrights, scripting the skies, making contrails into sentences and formations into punctuation.

The world took notice. The Japanese in 1945 knew they could not backslide. Putin in 2025 knew he was not arriving as an equal partner. And Americans watching both moments knew, at least for a time, that their nation’s power was real, visible, and unchallengeable.

Trump’s Realist Aim

The truth is sobering: once bombers fill the sky, their shadow never disappears. Every flyover revives the possibility of conflict, even as it claims to prevent one. Diplomacy may start at the table, but it always unfolds beneath the shadow of airpower.

Trump, after all, is no naïve idealist. A realist to the core, he could not have expected to squeeze a neat ceasefire from Vladimir Putin simply by sharing a table and a pot of coffee in Alaska. The B-2 overflight, the carpet lined with Raptors, the choreography of power—all of it suggested he aimed higher, or at least deeper. 

Perhaps his true calculation was not to coax peace but to instill unease; not to settle the war in Ukraine but to unsettle the man waging it. A ceasefire might have been the obvious prize. But intimidation, the kind that makes an adversary second-guess every move long after the summit is over—that is the subtler, sharper trophy. 

And maybe that was Trump’s intention all along: not merely to end a war, but to remind Putin that, in the theater of power, he was still only a guest on America’s stage.

America’s Shadow: Were Our Best Years Under Its Tutelage?

It is a vexing, even slightly impolite, and even ridicule-inviting question: did the Philippines achieve its finest hours not in the fire of post-independence nation-building, but under the watchful eye of another flag? And in those first twenty years of freedom, namely 1946 to 1966, did we shine precisely because the hands steering the ship had been trained during colonial times?

The American Legacy

The American period — 1898 to 1946 — did not merely build roads and bridges; it built classrooms, courtrooms, and a bureaucratic spine. The Thomasites brought not only English primers but also a gospel of civic order and procedural governance.

By the time the Commonwealth came, a generation of Filipinos could run a ministry, argue in court, or conduct a symphony — all in a language that gave them instant access to the world stage.

A Flourishing in the Arts

Consider the arts. Our finest artists of the 20th century — Fernando Amorsolo, whose sunlit rural landscapes still shape our idea of the Filipino countryside, and Guillermo Tolentino, who sculpted the iconic Bonifacio and Rizal monuments — were all educated by American teachers at the University of the Philippines.

And the University itself? Founded in 1908 by the Americans, UP became the nation’s premier training ground for leaders in government, industry, culture, and science. In classrooms built on American blueprints, under professors steeped in U.S. academic traditions, a generation emerged that could match global standards.

The Early Republic’s Momentum

The first two post-independence decades felt like the natural fruit of that planting. The peso was strong, the civil service relatively clean, the military disciplined, and the Philippine national basketball team fared well in international competitions. 

Leaders like Elpidio Quirino, Ramon Magsaysay, and Carlos Garcia — schooled in institutions patterned after Washington rather than Madrid — carried themselves with the confidence of men who had studied at the knee of the world’s most powerful republic.

The Decline After Independence

And yet—the counterpoint is insistent. These institutions, for all their polish, were not grown from our soil but transplanted wholesale.

Without the American gardener’s regular pruning and watering, they began to wilt. As U.S. influence waned—though still faintly felt after July 4, 1946—the Philippines entered a slow but steady strategic decline. By the late 1960s, the professional ethos in politics and governance had begun to erode, as if the system had been running on the leftover energy of a colonial battery.

A Historical What-If: The Path of Statehood

Here, a controversial thought intrudes: might the Philippines have fared better as a U.S. state?

The idea is not entirely fanciful. In 1900, some Americans entertained it, and a few Filipino leaders quietly favored it. Statehood could have meant a strong federal framework to discipline and rein in the corrosive tendencies of our political culture. 

Federal law, courts, and institutions might have imposed a sturdier spine of accountability and meritocracy, preventing corruption, dynasties, and patronage from eating away at the system from within.

US Markets

Economically, the Philippines would have enjoyed unrestricted access to U.S. markets and federal development funds. Filipino workers would have been covered by the social safety nets of the world’s richest republic.

But the trade-off would have been profound: Filipino identity blurred into a shared American-Filipino consciousness, and independence as an ideal sacrificed on the altar of stability and integration.

Statehood remains one of history’s most intriguing “what-ifs” — a path not taken, but one that still haunts debates about discipline, governance, and the destiny of nations caught between pride and pragmatism.

Culture in Contest

Culture, too, was a contested ground. The American period gave us professionalized journalism, symphonies, and modernist poetry — but in Americanized forms that sometimes pushed aside indigenous languages, rhythms, and idioms.

Was it flourishing, or was it mimicry dressed in fine tailoring?

The Tragedy of Borrowed Light

So we circle back to the question, still unsatisfied. Perhaps our “best years” were not wholly ours — but neither were they wholly alien. The American era and its immediate aftermath were a peculiar alchemy of imported discipline and local ambition, of a young nation still basking in the glow of its tutor.

The challenge — one that perhaps remains unmet — was to take those gains and make them wholly Filipino, resilient without the umbilical cord.

Forging Our Flame

In the end, the most vexing truth is this: our brightest light in the modern era came from a lamp we did not build, but one we carried for a while with surprising grace. Yet lamps burn out, and borrowed light fades.

The real question—the one that should haunt our nights — is whether, after a century of shadows, we are at last ready to kindle a flame that is truly ours.

To conclude, our brightest light in the modern era came from a lamp we did not build, but one we carried for a while with surprising grace. Yet lamps burn out, and borrowed light fades. 

The paradox of Philippine history is not that our finest triumphs were shaped by American hands, but that we never built lasting greatness with our own. The challenge now is whether we can step out of the shadow and ignite a light that will endure as ours alone—a light that, once kindled, might yet shine brighter than any we have ever known.

Why the Senate Won’t Touch Sara Duterte’s Impeachment

The inaction of the Philippine Senate on the impeachment of Vice President Sara Duterte, now cemented by a Supreme Court ruling, speaks volumes. While Sara's critics raise charges—some dramatic, some serious—the Senate’s nonintervention reflects a deeper, more calculated political strategy: no one wants to challenge 32,208,417 votes (representing 61.53% of the total), especially when that support is backed by a silent but powerful bloc like Iglesia ni Cristo (INC).

A Mandate Too Big to Ignore

In the 2022 elections, Sara Duterte garnered the largest electoral tally ever recorded in Philippine history. That figure is political armor. It represents a powerful mandate that lawmakers could not dismiss lightly. For many senators—especially those eyeing re‑election—targeting a figure with such mass support would be politically reckless.

The INC Factor: Open, Not Silent

That electoral strength is magnified by the open backing of Iglesia ni Cristo (INC), whose bloc voting power has long been able to shift tight races. Far from staying silent, INC explicitly opposed efforts to impeach Duterte, organizing rallies under the banner of “peace” and denouncing the process as a waste of time. In Philippine political culture, such a display is more than support—it is a signal to allies and institutions alike: stand down.

Sara's Enduring Popularity and Political Legitimacy

Yet numbers alone aren’t everything. Recent Pulse Asia polling underscores Duterte’s ongoing popularity. Between March 23–29, 2025, Pulse Asia’s Ulat ng Bayan survey found that Vice President Duterte earned 59% approval, with only 16% disapproval among surveyed Filipino adults. She also posted a strong 61% trust rating, the only major official to do so in that round of polling. These figures confirm not just enduring support but continued legitimacy in the eyes of millions.

Political Calculus Over Constitutional Duty

Combine Duterte’s mass appeal with INC’s behind‑the‑scenes sway, and the Senate’s reluctance becomes explainable. Impeachment is as much a political act as a legal one; in the Philippines, public sentiment and political risk often take precedence over constitutional principles. Why antagonize a popular vice‑president whose support remains rock‑solid and whose name still resonates across the electorate? And why alienate a bloc that continues to influence critical races?

A Mechanism Undermined by Alliances

This isn’t an endorsement of inaction. It reflects a political reality: the impeachment mechanism—designed to check power—has become hostage to electoral calculations and unspoken alliances. The recent ruling by the Philippine Supreme Court declaring the House-led impeachment of Vice President Duterte as unconstitutional further reinforces the Senate’s refusal to act. 

A Convenient Exit: The Supreme Court Ruling

With the legal basis struck down and political costs still high, any effort to revive the case seems both improbable and unwise. Most likely, it will falter—not because of a lack of substance, but because Vice President Duterte is simply too vote-rich to touch. In the end, the Senate will keep its head down. It knows that in Philippine politics, popularity protects, and silence serves strategy.

Not Paralysis, But Strategic Stillness

The Senate’s passivity is not born of ignorance or paralysis—it is calculated. With Vice President Sara Duterte enjoying strong public approval and reinforced by powerful allies like the Iglesia ni Cristo, any move to pursue impeachment would be tantamount to political suicide. 

Senators, many of whom are either eyeing reelection or aspiring to higher office, are acutely aware of the perils of going against someone whose mass base, financial backing, and religious bloc support remain formidable. In such a volatile environment, silence becomes not weakness but a form of survival—a holding pattern until the tides of power shift more decisively.

Stalling as Strategy

Lastly, the Supreme Court ruling gave the Senate a perfect alibi. It allowed senators to wrap their inaction in the language of legality and restraint. 

By hiding behind jurisprudence, they can avoid alienating Duterte’s supporters while maintaining a veneer of institutional respectability. This is textbook political evasion—stall long enough and you can look principled while doing nothing.

The Lingua Franca We Dare Not Criticize: Why Pilipino Struggles as an Intellectual Language

The Unfulfilled Promise of Pilipino as a National Language

For decades, government and academe in the Philippines have championed the cause of Pilipino—often interchangeably called Tagalog—as the national and intellectual language. Billions of pesos have been spent on its promotion. Educational reforms have mandated its use. Institutions have held conferences, coined new words, and created elaborate glossaries. And yet, for all the ceremony and lip service, one fact remains stubbornly obvious: Pilipino has not—and perhaps cannot—break through as a truly academic, global, or world-class language of intellectual thought. Why?

A Cumbersome Language for Serious Thought

Because, simply put, Tagalog is a cumbersome language for formal, intellectual, or technical use. Anyone who has had to write an academic paper or deliver a scientific lecture in Pilipino is familiar with this. The words are often long, mechanical, or awkwardly constructed. The syntax favors redundancy over precision. The coinages—many of them manufactured by committees rather than by natural linguistic evolution—feel clunky and artificial.

When Translation Becomes Alienation

Take, for instance, the government-approved Pilipino translation of “facilitator" or "moderator”: “tagapagdaloy.” A five-syllable tongue-twister that literally means “facilitator of flow” (as in a conference or seminar).  No one uses it in real life unless required by a speech contest rubric. Or how about “salipawpaw” for “airplane”—a ”poetic but obscure word that only ever shows up in textbooks and bureaucratic signage, never in everyday conversations. Even the everyday cellphone charger becomes “pantablay,” a coinage that sounds more like an ancient kitchen appliance than a living word.

We can go on and on: website is "pook-sapot", email is "sulatroniko", mathematics is "sipnayan", dictionary is "talatinigan", web browser is "panginain," and microphone is "miktinig." These esoteric terms are the eloquent symbols of why Pilipino, despite its noble intentions, struggles to gain traction in real intellectual and cultural spaces.

English: The Unacknowledged Default

In contrast, English—for all its colonial baggage—remains the language of science, law, medicine, international diplomacy, and even higher education in the Philippines. It allows for clarity, nuance, and brevity. It is the medium of instruction in our best universities, the default language of thesis writing, and the bridge to global knowledge. 

When Pilipino is mandated for use in academic settings, what often happens is this: the speaker or writer thinks in English, outlines, and then translates awkwardly into Pilipino, with mixed results. So why can’t we admit this?

The Politics of Linguistic Denial

Because doing so feels politically incorrect. Language is identity, nationalism, and pride. To point out Pilipino’s limitations is to risk being called unpatriotic, colonial-minded, or elitist. It is more comfortable—and safer—to pretend that efforts to elevate Pilipino as a language of scholarship and discourse are succeeding, even when they are not.

As a result, we continue the charade. We hold seminars in Pilipino where the PowerPoint slides are written in English. We coin new terms that no one uses. We “develop” the language without really using it to develop ideas.

Still Not a Lingua Franca and the Rise of Taglish

And still, Pilipino has not emerged as a regional lingua franca (unlike Bahasa Indonesia or Bahasa Malaysia), nor a literary powerhouse like Spanish, nor a diplomatic language like French. It remains largely confined to domestic entertainment, informal communication, and the echo chambers of state-funded institutions.

Adding Pilipino's predicament is the solidification of English over the past two decades as the global language of science, technology, business, and academia—a dominance that further marginalizes Pilipino, which has long struggled to gain equal footing as a medium for intellectual and academic discourse. 

Compounding this already tangled linguistic landscape is the rise of "Taglish," a hybrid of Pilipino and English that has become the lingua franca of urban Filipinos, particularly among the youth and in popular media.  In fact, Taglish now appears to be emerging—by default rather than design—as the de facto national language, further blurring linguistic boundaries and casting doubt on the future of Pilipino as a distinct, fully developed medium for national and intellectual life.

Toward a More Honest Conversation

It is time to be honest. Pilipino has not failed because it is inferior, but because the gap between its romanticized vision and its actual use has never been addressed. The language is weighed down by politics, artificial rules, and cultural insecurities. What it needs is not more tokenistic promotion but genuine development, grounded in organic usage, literary excellence, and intellectual utility.

Until then, let us not vilify those who choose English as their tool of thought. They are not traitors to the Filipino soul. They are, more often than not, realists in a country that refuses to face linguistic truth. 

Policy Brief: Reevaluating Nuclear Power in the Philippines: A Step Toward Energy Security and Climate Resilience

Introduction

The Philippines currently faces significant challenges in its energy sector, including escalating fuel prices, grid instability, and the pressing need to address climate change. While the concept of nuclear energy has historically evoked apprehension among Filipinos, largely due to concerns surrounding the mothballed Bataan Nuclear Power Plant (BNPP), past corruption allegations, and foreign disasters like Fukushima, a reevaluation based on current facts and technological advancements is necessary. This paper argues for a reasoned and well-founded approach to integrate nuclear power into the nation's energy mix, emphasizing safety, transparency, and strategic implementation.

The apprehension surrounding nuclear energy in the Philippines is understandable, rooted in historical events and public perception. However, dismissing nuclear power outright based on past fears would be a missed opportunity to address the nation's critical energy needs and climate goals. Modern nuclear technology has evolved significantly, offering safer and more efficient solutions, such as Small Modular Reactors (SMRs). 

Indeed, many developed, industrialized, and reputable countries, such as South Korea, France, and Canada, already operate numerous safe and reliable nuclear power systems. Therefore, a fresh perspective, informed by scientific advancements and global best practices, is crucial to overcoming historical reservations and exploring atomic energy's potential as a stable, clean, and domestically generated power source for the Philippines.

1. Evolving Nuclear Technology and Safety Standards

The landscape of nuclear power has significantly advanced beyond the Cold War era. Modern atomic reactors incorporate passive safety systems designed to automatically shut down in the event of an emergency, thereby enhancing their safety profile. Furthermore, Small Modular Reactors (SMRs), currently under development globally, offer a more compact, manageable, and less risky alternative for nuclear energy generation. A contemporary understanding of these technological advancements is crucial for informed policy decisions.

These advancements directly address many of the historical anxieties associated with nuclear power, moving the industry towards inherently safer designs. The shift from large, complex plants to smaller, more modular units reduces both the capital investment and the potential for large-scale incidents. By recognizing and studying these innovations, policymakers can make decisions grounded in current engineering realities rather than outdated perceptions, paving the way for a more secure and sustainable energy future for the Philippines.

Given these transformative developments, the Philippines has a unique opportunity to leapfrog older technologies and embrace these advanced, safer, and more flexible nuclear solutions. This strategic embrace of modern atomic science, particularly SMRs, can allow the nation to harness reliable, clean energy without replicating the challenges associated with past projects, thereby building public confidence through tangible improvements in safety and efficiency.

2. Learning from the Past: The BNPP Experience

The Bataan Nuclear Power Plant serves as a cautionary tale, marked by poor timing, a controversial location, and allegations of overpricing. However, the lessons learned from this experience can inform future endeavors. Progress in nuclear energy development in the Philippines must prioritize transparency, expertise, and accountability to avoid past mistakes.

This historical context, while challenging, provides invaluable insights for any future nuclear energy project. It underscores the critical importance of robust regulatory frameworks, independent oversight, and clear public communication to build trust and prevent a recurrence of the issues that plagued the BNPP. By openly acknowledging and addressing the concerns from the past, the Philippines can establish a foundation for a nuclear program that is not only technologically advanced but also ethically sound and publicly supported.

Therefore, revisiting nuclear energy in the Philippines does not mean ignoring or repeating the BNPP's errors. Instead, it means actively learning from them to ensure that any new project is built on principles of integrity and public confidence. This commitment to learning from history, rather than being paralyzed by it, is fundamental to building a sustainable and trusted energy future for the nation.

3. Phased Implementation through Pilot Projects

A cautious and incremental approach to nuclear energy adoption is advisable. Initiating small, well-monitored nuclear projects in isolated areas with unreliable power supply can demonstrate the safety and efficiency of nuclear technology to the Filipino public. This "show, don't just tell" strategy can build public confidence and support.

This strategy directly addresses the historical apprehension by allowing Filipinos to witness firsthand the safe and efficient operation of modern nuclear facilities. By starting with smaller, more manageable projects, particularly in regions that have historically suffered from inconsistent power supply, the tangible benefits of stable, clean energy can become evident. This practical demonstration can foster a shift in public perception from fear to acceptance, transforming abstract concepts into concrete improvements in daily life and economic activity.

Furthermore, these pilot projects offer invaluable opportunities for local capacity building, training Filipino engineers, managers, and technicians in the operation and maintenance of advanced nuclear technologies. Collaborating with experienced international partners and managers in these initial stages would ensure adherence to the highest global safety standards and best practices, further bolstering trust and expertise within the country. France (Electricite de France), US (Constellation Energy), Canada (CANDU Reactor Technology), and South Korea (KEPCO) are often cited as leaders in nuclear energy management. This measured approach not only de-risks the initial investment but also creates a scalable model for future expansion, allowing the Philippines to strategically integrate nuclear power as a reliable component of its broader energy plan.

4. Depoliticizing Energy Decisions: The Role of Scientific Expertise

Energy policy decisions should be guided by scientific and economic expertise rather than political considerations. Engaging institutions such as the University of the Philippines or the National Academy of Science and Technology (NAST) can foster public trust by providing unbiased, fact-based information on nuclear energy.

The history of the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant (BNPP) regrettably illustrates how energy policy in the Philippines has often become overly politicized. The narrative surrounding the BNPP was significantly shaped by various non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and activist groups, who, while raising valid concerns, sometimes overshadowed expert technical assessments with emotionally charged arguments. This often led to a reactive stance from the government, making long-term strategic energy planning difficult amidst public outcry and political pressures, rather than allowing a measured, evidence-based discourse on the technology itself.

Moving forward, it is crucial to insulate energy planning, particularly concerning complex technologies like nuclear power, from such partisan debates. A science-led advisory body, free from political influence, would be essential in evaluating the feasibility, safety, and economic viability of nuclear options. By empowering institutions with verifiable expertise, the nation can ensure that decisions are made on objective data and expert consensus, thereby rebuilding public confidence and steering clear of the pitfalls of past politicized energy controversies.

5. Nuclear Energy for Climate Justice and Energy Independence

Beyond addressing energy shortages, nuclear power presents an opportunity for climate justice, particularly for underserved provinces that frequently experience power outages. It offers a path towards energy independence, reducing reliance on imported fossil fuels. When combined with renewable energy sources, nuclear power can contribute to community development and assist in achieving climate goals.

The concept of climate justice underscores that the burdens of climate change and energy poverty disproportionately affect vulnerable populations. In the Philippines, this often translates to remote or less developed provinces enduring consistent power outages, which hinders economic growth and basic quality of life. Nuclear power, with its consistent and high-output generation capacity, can provide the reliable base load electricity these areas desperately need, helping to bridge the energy gap and ensuring that development is equitable and sustainable across the archipelago. This stability can attract investments, foster local industries, and improve essential services, directly addressing the social dimension of climate justice.

Furthermore, leveraging nuclear energy significantly bolsters the Philippines' energy independence. Currently, the nation's heavy reliance on imported fossil fuels makes it susceptible to volatile global energy markets and geopolitical instabilities. By generating a substantial portion of its power domestically through nuclear means, the Philippines can achieve greater energy security, stabilize electricity prices, and reallocate resources previously spent on fuel imports towards national development initiatives. This strategic shift not only reduces the country's carbon footprint but also fortifies its economic resilience against external shocks, aligning energy policy with broader national security and environmental objectives.

6. Managing Nuclear Waste: A Solvable Challenge

Public perception often exaggerates the risks associated with nuclear waste. In reality, nuclear waste is small in volume, securely contained, and managed safely in numerous countries worldwide. The environmental impact of nuclear waste is considerably less than the continuous emissions from fossil fuel combustion, such as smoke, soot, and carbon.

The exaggerated fear surrounding nuclear waste frequently overshadows the stark reality of pollution from conventional energy sources. Unlike the dispersed and pervasive emissions from burning fossil fuels—which directly contribute to air pollution, respiratory illnesses, and climate change on a daily basis —nuclear waste is meticulously controlled and isolated. Its comparatively small volume allows for secure, long-term storage solutions that prevent environmental contamination, a stark contrast to the continuous, uncontained release of pollutants from coal and diesel power plants.

Furthermore, significant advancements are being made in nuclear waste management and recycling technologies, which aim to further reduce the volume and radiotoxicity of spent fuel. Countries with established nuclear programs have developed robust protocols for safe handling, transport, and disposal, often involving deep geological repositories or reprocessing facilities. These continuous innovations underscore that the "waste problem" is not an insurmountable barrier, but a manageable engineering challenge with proven solutions, especially when weighed against the intractable and far-reaching environmental damage caused by fossil fuel waste.

7. A Balanced Energy Mix for Resiliency

Nuclear energy should not be viewed as a standalone solution but as an integral component of a diverse and resilient energy portfolio. A combination of solar, wind, geothermal, hydro, and nuclear power can leverage the unique strengths of each source, with nuclear providing consistent power generation regardless of weather conditions or time of day.

This strategic diversification is paramount for achieving true energy security in the Philippines. While renewable sources like solar and wind are vital for decarbonization, their intermittent nature means they cannot provide constant, uninterrupted power. This variability often necessitates reliance on fossil fuel "peaker" plants to fill gaps, undermining climate goals. Nuclear power, conversely, offers a high-capacity, baseload generation that operates continuously, providing stability and reliability to the grid, thereby complementing renewables perfectly and reducing the need for polluting backup sources.

Integrating nuclear energy within such a balanced mix also enhances the overall resilience of the national power grid against various disruptions, including natural disasters and fluctuations in global energy markets. A diversified portfolio ensures that the failure or underperformance of one energy source does not lead to widespread blackouts or economic instability. By embracing a "mix-and-match" approach, the Philippines can build a robust, clean, and economically viable energy system that supports sustained development and ensures reliable power for all its citizens.

Conclusion: Cautious Boldness for a Sustainable Energy Future

While apprehension towards nuclear energy is understandable, fear alone should not dictate national policy. The Philippines must embrace "cautious boldness"—a strategy rooted in scientific understanding, informed by past experiences, and driven by the vision of a more secure and sustainable energy future. It is a strategy that takes calculated risks, but with careful consideration and awareness of potential dangers or consequences.

The nation stands at a critical juncture where conventional energy solutions are proving increasingly insufficient and environmentally damaging. To overcome ingrained fears and historical setbacks, a forward-looking approach is essential. This "cautious boldness" means moving beyond the paralysis induced by past controversies, particularly surrounding the BNPP, and instead, drawing concrete lessons to inform a new, transparent, and expert-driven path for energy development. It acknowledges public concerns but insists on grounding policy in rigorous data and expert consensus, not emotional responses.

Implementing this cautious boldness requires strong political will and unwavering commitment to long-term national interests over short-term political expediency. It means prioritizing comprehensive public education campaigns, fostering independent scientific oversight, and carefully selecting pilot projects that demonstrate the safety and benefits of modern nuclear technology. By taking these deliberate, well-planned steps, the Philippines can gradually build public trust and technical expertise, ensuring that any future nuclear energy deployment is undertaken with the highest standards of safety, environmental protection, and economic viability.

Ultimately, the choice facing the Philippines is whether to remain trapped by historical anxieties or to bravely pursue a diversified, resilient, and clean energy future. Embracing nuclear energy as a complementary component within a broader mix of renewables offers a powerful pathway to achieving energy independence, addressing climate change responsibilities, and ensuring reliable power for all Filipinos. This approach represents not a reckless leap, but a strategic and responsible progression towards a more secure and prosperous nation.

Policy Recommendations: 

To facilitate a prudent and effective integration of nuclear energy into the Philippines' energy strategy, the following policy recommendations are outlined:

1. National Education Campaign: Launch a comprehensive public education campaign utilizing schools, media, and town halls to demystify nuclear energy through clear and relatable language. This initiative is crucial for transforming public apprehension into informed understanding, laying the groundwork for broad societal acceptance. 

2. Empower Independent Experts: Establish a non-political, science-led advisory body to provide independent guidance and oversight for nuclear energy development. Such a body will ensure that decisions are based on objective data and expert consensus, free from political influence. 

3. Pursue Pilot Projects with Global Partners: Collaborate with countries experienced in nuclear technology, such as South Korea, the US, France, or Canada, to develop small-scale nuclear solutions in remote or underserved regions of the Philippines. These pilot projects will serve as tangible demonstrations of safety and efficacy, building trust through direct experience. 

4. Legislate Transparency and Accountability: Enact legislation to ensure that all nuclear energy projects are subject to rigorous public audits, community consultation, and international safety reviews. Robust legal frameworks are essential to diminish corruption, prevent past mistakes and guarantee public trust in the development and operation of nuclear facilities. 

5. Integrate Nuclear into a Broader Energy Plan: Position nuclear energy not as a singular solution, but as a robust and consistent element within a diversified, clean, and resilient national energy infrastructure. This balanced approach maximizes energy security and environmental sustainability, leveraging the unique strengths of each energy source. 

Sources: 

International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA). (2021). Advances in Small Modular Reactor Technology Developments 2020. IAEA. https://www.iaea.org/publications/13594/advances-in-small-modular-reactor-technology-developments

Lovering, J. R., Yip, A., & Nordhaus, T. (2016). Historical construction costs of global nuclear power reactors. Energy Policy, 91, 371–382. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.enpol.2016.01.011

National Academy of Science and Technology Philippines (NAST). (2021). Science and technology-based governance in the energy sector. NAST Bulletin. https://nast.ph

OECD Nuclear Energy Agency. (2020). The costs of decarbonisation: System costs with high shares of nuclear and renewables. OECD Publishing. https://www.oecd-nea.org/jcms/pl_51111

Philippine Department of Energy. (2023). Philippine Energy Plan 2023–2050. https://www.doe.gov.ph/sites/default/files/pdf/pep/pep-2023-2050.pdf

Schneider, M., Froggatt, A., & Katsuta, T. (2023). The World Nuclear Industry Status Report 2023. https://www.worldnuclearreport.org

United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC). (2015). The Paris Agreement. https://unfccc.int/process-and-meetings/the-paris-agreement/the-paris-agreement

U.S. Department of Energy. (2021). Nuclear Energy: Clean, Reliable Power for the Future. Office of Nuclear Energy. https://www.energy.gov/ne/nuclear-energy-clean-reliable-power-future

World Nuclear Association. (2023). Small Modular Reactors (SMRs). https://www.world-nuclear.org/information-library/nuclear-fuel-cycle/nuclear-power-reactors/small-nuclear-power-reactors.aspx

World Nuclear Association. (2023). Safety of Nuclear Power Reactors. https://www.world-nuclear.org/information-library/current-and-future-generation/safety-of-nuclear-power-reactors.aspx

Bulakan Bulacan: A Small Town of Giants in Philippine History

Introduction

Bulakan, the historic town that lent its name to the province of Bulacan, is a cornerstone of the Philippine national narrative. Nestled near Manila Bay, the town's origins predate Spanish colonization. From a fishing and farming community governed by a native datu to a bastion of Catholicism, a crucible of the Revolution, and now a first-class municipality on the cusp of modern transformation, Bulakan’s trajectory reflects the richness and complexity of the Filipino experience.

Pre-Hispanic Roots and Cultural Flourishing

Archaeological evidence and historical records suggest that Bulakan thrived long before the Spanish arrival. The name “Bulakan” is believed to derive from "bulak" (cotton), which grew in abundance and was woven into fabric by locals using primitive looms. Pottery shards, agricultural tools, and foreign trade records dating back to as early as the 12th century paint a portrait of a community that engaged in vibrant economic and cultural exchanges.

Its coastal proximity allowed for active trade with Chinese and Malay merchants. Politically, it was ruled by local chieftains or datus, while religiously, animism prevailed with growing Islamic influence by the 1500s. Bulakeños joined Muslim forces during the 1571 Battle of Bangkusay to resist Spanish conquest, marking Bulakan's first recorded act of defiance against foreign invaders.

Spanish Colonization and the Rise of Catholicism

Following the Spanish conquest of Manila, Bulakan was officially founded in 1575 and became a full parish under the Augustinians by 1578. The town soon became the first capital of the newly created Province of Bulacan and the site of the oldest Roman Catholic church in the province, dedicated to "Nuestra Señora de la Asunción". Spanish friars praised Bulakan natives as among the most receptive to the faith. This laid the groundwork for enduring traditions such as the Flores de Mayo and the Dalit hymns, both believed to have originated in Bulakan.

Economically, Bulakan prospered. Its fields yielded rice and cotton, while rivers and fishponds supported vibrant aquaculture. Its strategic location made it a trading conduit to Manila. The town's elite gradually adopted Spanish customs, and Bulakan became renowned for its pottery, weaving, and artisanal crafts.

Still, resistance simmered. In 1583, Don Esteban Tasi of Bulakan joined the Magat Salamat conspiracy against Spanish rule. Later, during the British invasion of 1762, locals and Spanish forces briefly lost the town to Captain Slay's troops before guerrillas reclaimed it after nine days of fighting. These episodes etched patriotism deep into Bulakan's identity.

Revolutionary Cradle: The Enriquez Family and Beyond

The late 19th century witnessed the birth of Filipino nationalism. Bulakan contributed immensely through its sons: Marcelo H. del Pilar, the fiery journalist and reformist, and his nephew, General Gregorio del Pilar. Yet another family stood at the forefront of revolution – the Enriquez family of Barrio San Jose.

According to a well-documented family blog by yours truly, Vicente and Petrona Enriquez raised nine children, four of whom – Alfonso, Anacleto, Vicente Jr., and Jose – joined the Katipunan.

Anacleto, known as "Matanglawin," became a general and died heroically at the Battle of San Rafael in 1896. His death deeply moved his childhood friend, General del Pilar, who would later die at Tirad Pass. Vicente Jr. and Jose served under del Pilar's "Brigada Pilar" and survived that battle. 

The family’s women, including matriarch Petrona and daughter Victoria, were imprisoned by Spanish authorities. After the revolution, the brothers continued to serve the country in civil roles, including mayor, judge, and treasurer. Their story exemplifies how familial patriotism and sacrifice were essential to Bulakan's revolutionary fervor.

American Occupation and Cultural Resilience

Under American rule, Bulakan underwent administrative and educational transformations. The provincial capital moved to Malolos, but Bulakan remained a cultural stronghold. English-language public schools were established, and the Gabaldon school model took root.

Agriculture remained dominant, but infrastructure improvements like roads and irrigation helped boost the economy. Bulakan natives, including Senator Francisco "Soc" Rodrigo, first a broadcaster, then a senator,  emerged as national leaders. Catholicism retained its hold, though Protestantism gained a modest foothold. Public health, sanitation, and civil governance saw notable improvements.

Japanese Occupation and Guerrilla Valor

During World War II, Bulakan endured Japanese occupation marked by scarcity and fear. Yet, the town supported guerrilla movements, including the Bulacan Military Area under Alejo Santos. Dr. Vicente Lava, a native son, coordinated resistance as a key leader of the Communist Party and its military arm, the "Hukbo ng Bayan Laban sa Hapon" or "Hukbalahap".

Notably, the Lava brothers — Vicente, Jose, and Jesus Lava — hailed from Bulakan and became pillars of the communist movement in the Philippines. Their ideological influence, political organization, and underground leadership shaped the trajectory of the Philippine Left from much of the 1930s to the 1950s.

After Liberation in 1945, Bulakan resumed rebuilding and joined the Republic of the Philippines in celebrating full independence in 1946.

Post-War Growth and Contemporary Identity

In the decades following independence, Bulakan prospered as an agricultural center. Fishponds, rice fields, and coastal commerce defined its economy. The annual August fiesta in honor of the Virgin of the Assumption remained a high point of civic life.

The town preserved its heritage: ancestral houses, the colonial-era church, and historical shrines such as the Marcelo H. del Pilar Shrine in Barrio San Nicolas were maintained. A revival of traditions, such as Flores de Mayo and the Bangkaripas boat festivals in Barangay Tibig, emphasized cultural continuity.

Bulakan also made contributions to Philippine cinema. Dr. Jose Perez, the founder of Sampaguita Pictures, one of the most influential Filipino film studios during the mid-20th century, was a native of Bulakan. His studio helped launch the careers of many of the country’s beloved movie stars and contributed greatly to Filipino popular culture.

Notably, Bulakan continues to produce leaders of national stature. In 2025, Maria Theresa “Tess” Parreño Lazaro, a native of Bulakan, was appointed Secretary of Foreign Affairs of the Philippines, becoming the highest-ranking diplomat in the current BBM administration.

Bulakan in the 21st Century

Today, Bulakan is poised for transformation. The construction of the New Manila International Airport has positioned the town for economic uplift, but has also raised concerns over displacement and environmental degradation. The challenge lies in balancing growth with heritage conservation.

In 2020, the historic church was declared a Diocesan Shrine and the Marian image canonically crowned, reaffirming Bulakan’s religious legacy. Simultaneously, its people remain deeply connected to a past filled with courage, artistry, and resistance.

A Summary of Notable Personalities

Bulakan has produced a distinguished roster of individuals who have contributed to Philippine history, culture, and public service (in no particular order):

1. Marcelo H. del Pilar – Renowned propagandist and editor of La Solidaridad, he played a key role in the reform movement against Spanish colonial rule.

2. General Gregorio del Pilar – Nephew of Marcelo and one of the youngest generals of the Philippine Revolution, known for his heroic last stand at the Battle of Tirad Pass.

3. General Anacleto “Matanglawin” Enriquez – A fearless Katipunero who died at the Battle of San Rafael and inspired his friend, Gregorio del Pilar.

4. Vicente, Jose, and Jesus Lava – Influential leaders of the Philippine communist movement during the mid-20th century, all natives of Bulacan.

5. Dr. Horacio C. Lava --- a prominent mid-century Filipino economist who was Central Bank director of economic research, and author of early scholarly works on regional living standards. His efforts contributed to developing the institutional backbone of Philippine economic policymaking.

6. Dr. Jose Roxas “Doc” Perez– Founder of Sampaguita Pictures, which shaped mid-century Filipino cinema. Known as a master star maker, he guided the careers of icons like Gloria Romero, Susan Roces, and Amalia Fuentes, and led the studio through the golden age of Filipino cinema. A barangay in Bulakan is named after him.

7. Senator Francisco “Soc” Rodrigo – A statesman, poet, playwright, broadcaster, and constitutionalist who served in the post-war Philippine Senate (1955–1967). He courageously opposed Ferdinand Marcos and was imprisoned during Martial Law and later honored at the Bantayog ng mga Bayani for his resistance.

8. Rosauro “Boy” Leonardo, the 1963 Grand National Champion of Tawag ng Tanghalan.

9. Angelito "Lito" Anzures was a respected Filipino supporting actor from Bulakan, Bulacan. Born Angelito Castro Anzures in 1927, he built a solid film career across decades, appearing in titles like Ang Panday sequels and Dugo ng Pusakal. 

10. Maria Theresa “Tess” Parreño Lazaro – Hailing from Brgy. San Jose, she was appointed Secretary of Foreign Affairs in 2025, becoming the highest-ranking diplomat in the country.

11. Rachel Enriquez Fidelino -- Lawyer, Former Commissioner, Wage Commission, and civic leader.

12 Recaredo Villaroman Enriquez -- Former Dean of San Beda College

13. Vicente Enriquez -- "Ayudante" to Gen. Gregorio Del Pilar and Tirad Pass survivor

14. Bonifacio S.F. Enriquez -- Former "Justice of the Peace" of Polo (Valenzuela), Bocawe (Bocaue), and Bigaa (Balagtas). He was one of the biggest landlords in Bulacan. In 1976, Bonifacio Enriquez was named "The Oldest Living Atenean."

15. Jose S.F. Enriquez -- Second Lieutenant in the Katipunan and Tirad Pass survivor.

Conclusion

Bulakan’s history is a mirror of the Philippine saga – from indigenous culture to colonial submission, revolution, war, and nationhood. It is a story not just of places and dates, but of families like the Enriquezes, of heroes like del Pilar and del Pilar, and of everyday townsfolk who toiled, prayed, and fought for their future. 

As Bulakan marches into the modern age, it does so not with historical amnesia but with a keen sense of the soil from which it rose. Its legacy is etched not just in monuments but in the hearts of its people.

From its coastal trade routes that once hummed with galleons and bancas, to its magnificent baroque church that bore witness to centuries of faith and defiance, Bulakan has always been more than a quiet town. It was a crucible of ideas, where the ink of reformist writings mingled with the blood of revolution. The historical currents established here shaped not just minds but consciences, nurturing generations who would help shape the Filipino identity. In every stone and street in Bulakan, there lingers a whisper of the past—inviting the present to remember, and the future to build wisely.

References

Agoncillo, T. A. (1990). History of the Filipino people (8th ed.). Garotech Publishing.

Bautista, V. A. (1995). Local governance in the Philippines: A book of readings. Center for Local and Regional Governance.

Del Mundo, C. (2000). Bulacan: Lalawigan ng bayani at kasaysayan. National Historical Commission of the Philippines.

Lapeña, C. (2016, August 16). Canonical coronation of Our Lady of the Assumption. GMA News Online. https://www.gmanetwork.com/news/

National Historical Commission of the Philippines. (n.d.). Marcelo H. del Pilar National Shrine. https://nhcp.gov.ph

Official Gazette of the Republic of the Philippines. (1946, July 4). Declaration of Philippine independence. https://www.officialgazette.gov.ph/1946/07/04/independence/

Reyes, B. (2014, March 21). The Enriquez family of Bulacan, Bulacan. Beto Reyes Blogspot. https://beto-reyes.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-enriquez-family-of-bulacan-bulacan.html

Scott, W. H. (1994). Barangay: Sixteenth-century Philippine culture and society. Ateneo de Manila University Press.

Tolentino, R. B. (2001). Sampaguita Pictures: The glory days of Philippine cinema. University of the Philippines Press.

Tungol, N. (2012). The Lava legacy: The Communist Party of the Philippines in the 20th century. Ateneo de Manila University Press.

Wikipedia contributors. (2023). Bulakan, Bulacan. In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bulakan,_Bulacan

Wikipedia contributors. (2025). Tess Lazaro. In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tess_Lazaro

Don’t Cut Senior High: It’s Our Youth’s Runway to the Future

In the Philippines today, many families are struggling. Food prices are rising, wages are stagnant, and sending children to school has become an ever-growing financial burden. It’s no wonder that some voices are calling for a rollback of the Senior High School (SHS) program, arguing that cutting Grades 11 and 12 would lessen costs and allow students to work and earn sooner.

It’s a tempting proposition. But it is also a dangerous one. For in trying to solve an immediate problem, we may be setting our children—and our country—up for a much deeper, long-term loss.

A Hard-Won Reform

The Senior High School program, part of the broader K to 12 reform introduced in 2013, was never a mere bureaucratic add-on. It was a strategic investment meant to align Philippine education with global standards, enhance the employability of young Filipinos, and give them real options: college, employment, or entrepreneurship. Those two additional years were designed not just to teach more content, but to deepen critical thinking, build technical skills, and instill maturity.

Prior to K to 12, the Philippines was one of the last countries in the world with a 10-year basic education cycle. Our graduates were often seen as underprepared abroad, whether for university or employment. We were shortchanging them—sending them into the world with fewer tools in an increasingly competitive global economy.

The Appeal of Shortening—and the Risks

The call to shorten high school often centers around cost. According to a 2018 study in Region XI, a public school SHS student spends about ₱27,000 annually on transportation, food, supplies, uniforms, and fees. For low-income families, especially those with multiple children, this is no small sum.

Would removing two years from the system ease this burden? Superficially, yes. It would mean earlier entry into the labor force and lower day-to-day expenses. But that relief comes at a steep price.

Shortening SHS would:

• Undermine academic and skills preparation for college and work;

• Reduce the employability of graduates in a knowledge-driven economy;

• Increase in drop-out rates in higher education due to unpreparedness;

• Devalue the academic standing of Filipino students in the global context;

• Reverse years of effort to raise our education system to international standards.

Imagine a nation where our young people are forced to grow up faster, with less education, fewer skills, and smaller chances for upward mobility. That’s the real cost of this proposal—and it’s one we must refuse to pay.

Global Evidence Points the Other Way

Around the world, countries are moving in the opposite direction—not shortening, but expanding education. Kenya’s 2017 competency-based reform extended basic education to 13 years. South Korea integrates science, technology, engineering, arts, and mathematics (STEAM) into its SHS system. In Ireland, students are given an optional transition year to mature and explore career paths. Even the U.S. continues to invest in four-year high school models that build both academic and career readiness.

Why? Because nations understand that human capital is their most valuable resource. The 21st century belongs to those who are educated, adaptive, and ready to lead in technology, innovation, and service. Slashing education at a time like this would not be pragmatic—it would be suicidal.

SHS Is Working—Quietly, But Powerfully

The evidence also shows that SHS is delivering. In 2023, SHS graduates with technical-vocational tracks posted employment rates of nearly 69%, and TESDA-trained students reached almost 80%. These are not empty statistics. They represent thousands of young Filipinos who, even without a college degree, were able to earn, support their families, and build careers.

Of course, the program is far from perfect. There are infrastructure gaps, overloaded teachers, and a need for more meaningful industry linkages. BUT THE ANSWER IS NOT TO DESTROY THE PROGRAM—IT IS TO FIX IT.

The Real Solution: Better Support, Not Less Education

Rather than cutting the number of years in school, we should be strengthening the support system around our students.

1. Expand financial aid and subsidies. SHS vouchers, food allowances, transportation support, and digital tools should be made more accessible, especially for students from marginalized communities.

2. Build stronger school-to-work pathways. TESDA-accredited tracks must be expanded and made more responsive to regional labor needs. Dual training, apprenticeships, and close coordination with local industries can bridge the classroom and the job market.

3. Make learning flexible. Modular, online, and evening classes can help working students continue their education. In rural and geographically isolated areas, alternative delivery modes must be scaled up.

4. Change the narrative. We must help families understand that SHS is not a burden, but a ladder. Through public information campaigns, success stories, and community engagement, we can restore trust and enthusiasm in the program.

A Moral and National Imperative

At its heart, this is more than a debate about curriculum. It is a test of our values. Are we willing to invest in the future of the Filipino youth, or will we sacrifice long-term gains for short-term savings?

Shortening high school may offer temporary financial relief, but it threatens to deepen cycles of poverty and limit the very mobility we claim to desire. The true burden lies not in the number of years in school but in the absence of equitable support that allows every child to finish those years with dignity and hope.

We are not being asked to make education longer. We are being called to make it stronger.

Conclusion: A Runway, Not a Roadblock

In a rapidly evolving world, where skills and knowledge are the new currency, a robust education system is our only defense—and our best offense. Senior High School, if fully supported and continuously improved, can be the launchpad that elevates millions of young Filipinos toward their dreams.

Let us not demolish that runway. Let us extend it. Reinforce it. Let us build a future where education opens doors, not closes them.

The Filipino youth deserve nothing less.