“Trust is thin. Patience is worn. Confidence in institutions is shaky”
JANUARY is named after Janus, the two-faced Roman god who looks backward and forward at the same time.
One face studies what has been. The other scans what might still come.
That image fits the mood of a new year. We pause. We remember. We hope. Wisdom from the past, courage for the future.
Those may be the two most important things we can carry into any beginning.
The start of a new year also invites bigger questions, not just about our personal lives, but about the life of the nation.
Lately, the idea of a political reset keeps coming up. It is a sign of restlessness. It tells us many Filipinos feel that something is not working as it should.
Trust is thin. Patience is worn. Confidence in institutions is shaky.
Some voices speak of radical options. Revolution. Extra-Constitutional shortcuts. A hard reboot.
These may sound bold, even tempting, especially in moments of frustration. But history is unkind to shortcuts that bypass the rules. They often promise renewal but deliver deeper division. They tear down faster than they can build up.
But what about a constitutional reset?
That idea deserves a more careful and sober discussion. Constitutions are not sacred relics meant only to be preserved and revered without question.
They are working agreements, designed to guide a society as it grows, adapts, and confronts new realities.
The very fact that our Constitution lays out clear paths for amendment and revision reminds us that it was crafted with change in mind.
Revisiting it is not an act of disloyalty. It can be a deliberate and thoughtful way of strengthening the democratic project we have inherited.
There is no denying the deficit of trust in our political system today.
Courts are questioned. Legislatures are doubted. Elections are viewed with suspicion.
In this context, a well-designed constitutional reform process could become a moment of national rebuilding.
Not because everything is broken, but because improvement is always possible. Democracies do not survive by clinging to nostalgia. They survive by learning.
Constitutional reform does not automatically cure what ails a nation, nor does it work by sheer declaration. It can either rebuild trust or deepen public doubt, depending on how honestly and carefully it is pursued.
That is why three things must guide any serious effort: right purpose, right process, and right people.
Right purpose comes first. Reform should not be driven by anger, fear, or the desire to escape accountability.
It should begin with an honest acknowledgment that our political society has changed. Technology has reshaped power.
Citizens are more vocal, more skeptical, more connected. Reform should not be about fixing a single problem or favoring a single group.
It should be about strengthening democratic institutions so they can endure the next generation, not just the next election.
Right process matters just as much. Among the available options, a constitutional convention stands out as the most democratic.
It respects the need for an elected mandate while recognizing that rewriting a nation’s basic law requires competence and depth.
A convention composed largely of elected delegates, complemented by a limited number of respected experts and jurists, balances voice and wisdom.
Right people, however, may be the hardest part.
Safeguards are essential. Constitutional reform must never become a backdoor for extending power.
Convention delegates should be barred from running in the elections immediately following ratification.
Incumbent top officials s
hould be allowed to complete their terms but prohibited from seeking the next ones. A Constitutional reset, if it is to be credible, must involve real sacrifice.
Reform that costs nothing to those in power convinces no one.
At some point, the conversation returns to us. What habits of politics have we learned to tolerate, even when they slowly corrode public life?
Which institutions still deserve our confidence, and which practices no longer serve the common good?
Reform is not about erasing the past in frustration, nor about defending the status quo out of fear.
It is about doing the harder work of discernment, choosing what must be preserved and what must finally change so the country can move forward without losing its bearings.
If a constitutional reset is ever to happen, it cannot be left to politicians alone. It has to be claimed by ordinary Filipinos who choose wisdom over noise and courage over apathy.
This means asking hard questions, paying attention to details, and refusing to be sidelined by slogans or fear.
The new year opens a door, but walking through it requires a people willing to think carefully, act bravely, and insist that any reform serve the nation, not the powerful.
