“Be for the truth. Speak it with consistency. Uphold it with conviction. And carry it with charity”
THE numbers shook the room. From 421 ghost or substandard flood control projects to just 14. From 5.26 percent to a mere 0.175 percent.
It was Senator Panfilo Lacson who broke the news at the Senate Blue Ribbon Committee. Apparently, a significant chunk of those “ghost projects” were flagged because of faulty coordinates.
The Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) officials admitted it. Former Secretary Manuel Bonoan explained that those coordinates were just for planning, and on-ground realities often forced shifts in implementation.
Not corruption. Not disappearance. Just adjustments.
And suddenly, it seemed like a a nation’s anger had to recalibrate.
I wonder what people felt at that moment.
Embarrassed?
Confused?
Quietly resentful?
After weeks of outrage, Facebook rants, fiery speeches, and public judgment, we now hear that the numbers were off. Did it feel like betrayal?
Or were we too invested in being angry to care whether it was all true?
Don’t get me wrong.
Stealing public funds is never okay. Even one ghost project is one too many. Even one act of corruption is an insult to the public trust. That kind of betrayal deserves outrage.
But here’s the question I’m wrestling with:
What happens when we discover that the truth isn’t what we thought it was?
Are we ready to accept it, even if it’s less dramatic, less viral, less convenient?
Because truth isn’t just a weapon we wield. It’s a responsibility we carry.
I keep going back to Saint Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons.
He stood for truth not because it was popular, not even because he was certain others would agree, but because he could not betray his conscience.
To him, truth wasn’t about winning an argument. It was about not losing himself.
These days, that kind of integrity feels rare. We say we want truth. But more often, we want truth that agrees with us, favors our side, proves our point. Truth that trends. Truth that confirms.
So maybe the real challenge is how we speak the truth.
First, we must speak truth with consistency.
Truth shouldn’t change depending on who we’re talking to or what team we’re on. It should be true on a Monday morning and a Friday night.
True in private and true in a Senate hearing. But we live in a time where facts get twisted to fit our bias.
Sometimes, we choose to believe something just because it embarrasses someone we dislike. And when we treat truth as something to serve our feelings, we stop being its servant.
Second, we must speak truth with conviction.
We must speak truth not for the applause, but from the core of who we are. Yet we see so many using facts for clout, not conscience.
We rush to share unverified claims because they are sensational, because they go viral.
But conviction means we don’t say something unless we’ve wrestled with it ourselves. It’s not about what sells. It’s about what’s real and what we’re willing to stand by even when it’s no longer popular.
Third, we must speak truth with charity.
Because truth isn’t supposed to destroy. It is meant to build.
These days, we throw truth like stones, brutal and unforgiving. We forget that behind every issue is a human being.
And when we speak truth without compassion, it becomes cruelty in disguise. Charity doesn’t mean sugarcoating. It means saying what’s right, in the right way, for the right reasons.
Yes, something may be factual. But if it lacks consistency, conviction, and charity, then maybe it’s not yet truth in its fullness.
Maybe it becomes a version of truth that divides more than it heals. That hardens rather than humbles.
That’s what unsettles me most about this flood control controversy. Not just the confusion over the numbers, but how quickly we jumped to conclusions. How fast we became judge, jury, and mob before the facts were fully in.
And how hard it is now to walk that outrage back and say we may have gotten some things wrong.
So here’s the call, not just to lawmakers or public officials or people in power, but to each of us.
Be for the truth. Speak it with consistency. Uphold it with conviction. And carry it with charity.
Because in the end, truth isn’t just about being right.
It’s about being real.
And staying true.
