“Public service is not a burden—it’s a privilege“
A FEW weeks ago, during a late-night conversation with friends—just some food, a few drinks, and even more stories—I was asked a question that made me pause for a bit.
“Do you ever get tired of doing the work you do?”
It didn’t take me long to answer. No. Not even close.
Because for me, public service is not a burden—it’s a privilege. And when you’ve been given the rare chance to serve your country, you take that to heart. You give it your all. Because not everyone gets that chance, and not everyone will be asked to carry that kind of responsibility.
But then came the follow-up: “At what point will you ever give up? Is there a limit to your patience and optimism?”
That one hit differently. But still, my answer was clear: No. Because this is the only country we could ever truly call home. And you never give up on your home. You never give up on your people.
You never give up on the Filipino.
But I do understand where the question comes from. Let’s be honest—cynicism has become the default setting for many of us when it comes to politics. We’ve grown weary, tired of the same headlines, the same issues, the same drama. For some, hope has turned into sarcasm. Optimism, into resignation.
It’s easy to be cynical these days. I get that. Especially when political noise seems louder than political solutions.
Just look at the past two weeks in Congress. We’re only a few days into the 20th Congress, and it’s already been a whirlwind. The impeachment complaint—whether you see it as legitimate concern or political theater—has grabbed everyone’s attention. Not just the media, or political junkies, or law students. Even the ordinary Filipino, the ones who barely have time for national news because they’re too busy trying to make ends meet, has taken notice.
Some say governance has become too messy, too noisy, too combative.
But let’s take a step back.
Isn’t this exactly what democracy looks like?
We sometimes mistake democracy for silence and order. But that’s not it. Democracy is messy. It’s supposed to be. It’s supposed to have noise, arguments, disagreements, debates. Because in a real democracy, no one has a monopoly on truth. No one has the final word. And everyone—whether you’re from the majority or minority, whether you wear red, yellow, or any color in between—has the right to speak, to be heard, and to contribute.
This is why:
First, democracy is built on diversity. Not just of ideas, but of beliefs, backgrounds, experiences, and convictions. And with that diversity comes the challenge—and the beauty—of finding common ground. We may disagree on many things, but we are still bound by the same flag, the same history, and the same hopes for a better future.
Second, no political group, no ideology, no side of the fence has a monopoly on patriotism. Loving this country takes many forms. You can serve from the streets or from the halls of Congress. You can protest or you can propose. What matters is sincerity. What matters is the commitment to put country above self.
Third, our politics may not be perfect—but the imperfections don’t make it worthless. They make it human. And when we acknowledge the flaws, we give ourselves the chance to fix them. To rise. To grow. To carry on.
So here’s my honest reflection: I know we still have a long way to go. We still have many battles to fight, many problems to solve, many wrongs to make right. But if we give in to despair now, if we let cynicism win, then who will be left to carry the torch forward?
It’s easy to point fingers. It’s easy to walk away. It’s much harder to stay and serve. To stay and hope. To stay and fight.
That’s why we stay.
Because at the end of the day, this is still our home. And our people—flawed, struggling, resilient, and hopeful—are still worth believing in.
So let’s not give up on the Philippines.
Let’s not give up on one another.
And, more importantly, let’s not give up on ourselves.
Hope may not always be loud, but it’s always alive.
And as long as we keep showing up—with open hearts, open minds, and a willingness to do the hard work—then there is always a reason to believe.
Because the future is not something we wait for.
It’s something we build. Together.
