SINCE the 1900s, American-style democracy taught us its rituals, which we embraced with enthusiasm but imbued with local pinoy flavor: festive campaigns, songs, “budots” dances, baby-kissing and, on rare occasions, some discussion of public policy.

Then we vote.

What happens afterward is another matter. We have political parties. There is the Nacionalista Party, Liberal Party, PDP-Laban, Lakas-CMD and assorted others whose acronyms sometimes survive longer than their principles.

Yet ask the ordinary voter what fundamentally distinguishes one from another — economically, socially, constitutionally — and silence. Ask a politician, and he may first have to remember which party he currently belongs to.

Ideology for rent

We have perfected a uniquely Filipino species of political wildlife: the political butterfly. It flits gracefully from flower to flower particularly when the nectar in Malacañang changes every six years.

Yesterday Liberal. Today PDP-Laban. Tomorrow Lakas. The day after tomorrow — well, let us first see who is leading the presidential surveys.

This phenomenon is sometimes called political pragmatism. That is the respectable term. Ordinary mortals might call it opportunism. And for those less inclined toward diplomatic language — political prostitution.

I wrote years back that politicians genuinely adhering to a party because of ideology and values are an endangered species. Our political environment rewards adaptability instead. Personal popularity and local machinery frequently matter more than party principles.

We should perhaps stop criticizing these politicians. They are merely adapting to their habitat. The problem is the habitat.

Our parties are not really political parties in the mature democratic sense. They are temporary electoral corporations organized principally to win elections. Many become extremely energetic before election day and mysteriously fall asleep afterward. The technical term is hibernation.

Wanted: Winnability

Because parties possess little ideological identity, their overriding criterion becomes winnability. Thus begins the great Philippine talent search. Wanted: candidates for public office. Qualifications: preferably famous. Actors welcome. Athletes encouraged. Television personalities highly desirable. Social-media following advantageous. Ability to dance and sing during campaign rallies a plus.

Knowledge of public administration optional. Ideology? We will discuss that after the surveys. This is not an indictment of actors, athletes, or broadcasters. Some may become excellent legislators. It is a denunciation of a political system in which celebrity can substitute for preparation because parties themselves have largely abandoned their responsibility to identify, educate and develop future leaders.

I made this argument years ago: When winnability overwhelms ideological perspectives, parties naturally recruit people already popular with the masses, while political creed and principles retreat discreetly to the back room.

Then we blame the Filipino voter. We solemnly repeat: People deserve the government they elect. Perhaps. But democracy presupposes meaningful choices. If the menu offers adobo, adobo with egg, adobo without egg and yesterday’s adobo reheated under a different party acronym, blaming the customer for not ordering steak seems slightly unfair.

Who owns the party?

Here lies the more fundamental problem. In genuine political parties, ordinary citizens become members because they believe in something. They pay dues. They participate. They debate policy. They help select leaders and candidates. The party belongs to its members.

In the Philippines, members generally do not finance parties. Candidates themselves, political dynasties, business interests and wealthy patrons do. And whoever pays the orchestra normally selects the music. I argued this as early as 2013: When members do not pay dues, they possess no meaningful stake in the organization. The financiers become the real stakeholders and consequently acquire enormous influence over who runs and what programs are presented to voters.

This is patronage politics disguised as party politics. It also explains the famous migration toward whichever president occupies Malacañang. In our centralized presidential system, political manna traditionally descends from above. Congressmen and local officials therefore discover previously unsuspected philosophical affinities with the victorious president.

It is remarkable how rapidly ideological enlightenment occurs after an election.

What a real party should be

For decades, those of us in the Centrist Democratic movement argued that a genuine political party requires at least four things. First, real members who pay dues. Second, internal democracy and discipline. Third, an identifiable ideology translated into a program of government. Fourth, laws governing political parties, their financing and accountability.

At CDP we tried, imperfectly, to practice these principles. Members paid annual dues, underwent political orientation and training, participated in decision-making, and could vote and be voted into party positions. The party attempted to remain active in communities between elections rather than materializing every three years like a political apparition.

The point here is not that CDP discovered political salvation. We did not. The point is that political parties must become institutions rather than personal vehicles. They should recruit young people long before those young people become candidates. They should teach them political philosophy, economics, constitutional government and public administration. They should allow them to rise through party ranks. A future congressman should not suddenly discover public policy after winning an election. Neither should a future senator require his first committee hearing to discover what his committee does.

Politics between elections

Perhaps the greatest difference between a real party and ours is what happens when there is no election. A genuine party continues working. Its members debate policies. Local chapters meet. Citizens bring grievances to their representatives. Potential leaders undergo training. Elected officials return to explain their votes and defend their conduct.

Most importantly, the party can punish its own.

Imagine that.

An elected politician violates the platform under which he was elected. The party calls him to account. In our system, the politician is more likely to call the party to account — and perhaps take half its members with him. This inversion tells us everything.

Politicians without politics

Last July 22, this domestic series began with a simple paradox: The Philippines has strong people but a weak State. We then examined our perpetual search for the president who will finally save us, and why institutions never seem able to outgrow the personalities temporarily occupying them.

Political parties are the missing link. We cannot build strong democratic institutions while our principal vehicles for capturing political power remain weak, personality-driven and financed by patrons.

We cannot complain about dynasties while maintaining parties that political families can capture. We cannot demand programmatic government when parties themselves possess no recognizable programs. And we cannot keep electing political saviors while constructing an electoral system designed to manufacture them.

Perhaps we have misunderstood the problem all along. The Philippines does not suffer from a shortage of politicians. Judging from every election, we have an inexhaustible supply.

What we lack are political parties worthy of a democracy.

And this becomes critically important because if we ever replace our presidential system with a parliamentary one, those parties will no longer merely decorate our democracy. They will have to govern it. That creates an uncomfortable question for next week:

Can we build a parliamentary democracy using political parties that are not really political parties?

The short answer is no.

The longer answer may explain why changing the Constitution without first changing our politics could merely give the same old politicians a brandnew playground.

The Senate President crowed yesterday that the party he nominally coheads, PDP-Laban, has a “pleasant problem” — too many potential senatorial candidates. Koko Pimentel’s estimate is they have up to 20 possible choices for the 12-person slate for the 2019 senatorial race. But his list includes the five administration-affiliated senatorial incumbents up for reelection next year. This is a group that has made noises that, much as it prefers to remain in the administration camp, it is unhappy with the way PDP-Laban has been designating its local leaders and candidates, and therefore prefers to strike out on its own, perhaps in alliance with the other administration (regional) party, Hugpong ng Pagbabago, headed by the President’s daughter and current Davao City mayor, Sara Duterte.

Setting aside, then, the five-person “Force,” the administration-oriented but not PDP-friendly reelectionists (Nancy Binay, Sonny Angara, Cynthia Villar, Grace Poe, and JV Ejercito), what Koko’s crowing over is a mixed bag. Some of them have been floated by Speaker Pantaleon Alvarez (with whom Mayor Duterte clashed in recent months): six representatives (Gloria Macapagal Arroyo who is in her last term in the House of Representatives; Albee Benitez, Karlo Nograles, Rey Umali, Geraldine Roman, and Zajid Mangudadatu), three Cabinet members (Bong Go, Harry Roque, and Francis Tolentino), and two other officials (Mocha Uson and Ronald dela Rosa), which still only adds up to 11 possible candidates (who are the missing three?).

Of all of these, the “Force” reelectionists are only fair-weather allies of the present dispensation; their setting themselves apart is about much more than the mess PDP-Laban made in, say, San Juan where support for the Zamoras makes it extremely unattractive for JV Ejercito to consider being in the same slate. Their cohesion is about thinking ahead: Creating the nucleus for the main coalition to beat in the 2022 presidential election. The contingent of congressmen and congresswomen who could become candidates for the Senate, however, seems more a means to kick the Speaker’s rivals upstairs (at least in the case of Benitez and Arroyo) and pad the candidates’ list with token but sacrificial candidates, a similar situation to the executive officials being mentioned as possible candidates (of the executive officials, only Go seems viable, but making him run would deprive the President of the man who actually runs the executive department, and would be a clear signal that the administration is shifting to a post-term protection attitude instead of the more ambitious system-change mode it’s been on, so far).

Vice President Leni Robredo has been more circumspect, saying she’s not sure the Liberal Party can even muster a full slate. The party chair, Kiko Pangilinan, denied that a list circulating online (incumbent Bam Aquino, former senators Mar Roxas, Jun Magsaysay, TG Guingona, current and former representatives Jose Christopher Belmonte, Kaka Bag-ao, Edcel Lagman, Raul Daza, Gary Alejano and Erin Tañada, former governor Eddie Panlilio and Cebu City Mayor Tomas Osmeña) had any basis in fact.

What both lists have in common is they could be surveys-on-the-cheap, trial balloons to get the public pulse. Until the 17th Congress reconvenes briefly from May 14 to June 1 for the tail end of its second regular session (only to adjourn sine die until the third regular session begins on July 23), it has nothing much to do. Except, that is, for the barangay elections in May, after a last-ditch effort by the House to postpone them yet again to October failed.

Names can be floated but the real signal will come in July, when the President mounts the rostrum and calls for the big push for a new constitution—or not. Connected to this would be whether the Supreme Court disposes of its own chief, which would spare the Senate—and thus, free up the legislative calendar—to consider Charter change instead of an impeachment trial. In the meantime, what congressmen do seem abuzz over is an unrefusable invitation to the Palace tomorrow — to mark Arroyo’s birthday. An event possibly pregnant with meaning.

Here’s a striking statement about love shared with me by an English college mentor. “Love knows no grammar. How it works can’t be measured by any parts or figures of speech. It goes beyond the literate and illiterate. The sad reality is that, even a fool who has got no philosophy is not spared of its harsh reality.” After almost three decades, I reminded him through a private message of his words. Here’s what he said. “Thank you, Jord. This statement about love is searing to the heart. And, yes, fools do fall for it too. But I thought that we as well speak of the beauty that it gives and not so much focus on the harsh realities. After all, our country has had enough of the negativities.” Thank you, dearest Sir Eugene.

In these decisive times when our nation trembles under the weight of corruption, inequality, and disillusionment, it is you―the youth, burning with idealism, courage, and an unyielding sense of right―who must stand at the forefront of CHANGE. The future of the Philippines hangs in the balance, calling not for silence or apathy, but for unity, conviction, and action. Let your dreams be the spark that ignites renewal; let your voices thunder against injustice; let your hands build the nation our forebears envisioned but never fulfilled. Now is the hour to awaken, to rise, and to lead the march toward a just and transformed Philippines.

Remember, the pages of our history resound with the triumphs of youth who dared to dream and act. From the Propagandists who wielded the pen against tyranny to the Katipuneros who took up arms for freedom, it was always the young who ignited revolutions and rebuilt nations. As Dr. Jose Rizal declared, “The youth is the hope of our motherland,” but that hope is not a gift to be passively claimed; it is a duty to be earned through courage and purpose.

Today’s generation must transform awareness into action―to confront corruption with integrity, to challenge inequality with empathy, and to counter apathy with participation. The time for mere commentary has passed. What the nation demands now is commitment, creativity, and collective resolve. When the youth stand united in conscience and conviction, no obstacle is insurmountable, no reform impossible. The power to redeem the nation’s promise lies not in the hands of the few, but in the awakened spirit of the many. Rise, therefore, as one generation with one objective―to forge a Philippines worthy of its people’s deepest hopes. And to those who were once the torchbearers of youth but have since laid down their fire―hear this call.

The nation does not forget its veterans of hope, those who once believed that change was possible but have since grown weary in the long twilight of disappointment. Thus far history grants no sanctuary to resignation. It demands of every generation the same unrelenting duty―to defend what is right, to confront what is wrong, and to labor still for what remains unfinished.

Now is the moment to rise again. Let not caution disguise itself as wisdom, nor comfort as peace. The courage that once stirred your youth still flickers within; rekindle it, and let it burn anew for the sake of those who follow. Your experience, tempered by time, must now join hands with the fervor of the young - to guide, to mentor, to strengthen.

Together, let the wisdom of the seasoned and the passion of the rising coalesce into a single, indomitable force for renewal. For the task of nation-building is not bound by age, but by conviction. The call of the motherland resounds to all who still believe that the story of the Filipino is not yet complete―and that redemption, though delayed, is still within our grasp if only we choose to act once more. And to those whose hands have long gripped the levers of power―hardened by privilege, dulled by entitlement―hear this with clarity: the era of self-preservation must yield to the dawn of selfless service.

The nation can no longer afford leaders who mistake possession for stewardship, nor governance for dominion. The time has come to relinquish the throne of complacency and make way for the custodians of vision, courage, and renewal.

To step aside is not to surrender, but to honor the sacred rhythm of nationhood―to allow new voices, new hearts, and new minds to breathe life into institutions that have grown stale from neglect. True leadership is an act of stewardship, and stewardship demands humility―to know when to lead, and when to pass the torch. Those who have ruled long enough must now become mentors, not masters; guides, not gatekeepers.

To the youth who will inherit this burden and blessing alike, the call is equally profound. Lead not with arrogance, but with awareness; not with impulse, but with integrity. Let optimism be your discipline―a conscious act of faith in the nation’s capacity to rise again. Lead with inclusivity that unites rather than divides, with courage that reforms rather than destroys, and with resilience that endures when hope seems frail.

For the measure of a new generation’s greatness lies not in its defiance alone, but in its wisdom to build where others have failed. Let your leadership become the living testament that the Philippines, once disillusioned, has learned at last to believe again―through you.

Now, the Filipino youth stand at a defining crossroad of history. The echoes of the past and the murmurs of the future converge upon this moment, and in your hands rests the fragile, however formidable promise of a nation reborn. You are the inheritors of unfinished dreams and the architects of what is yet to be. United in thought and deed, strengthened by the wisdom of history and the fire of conviction, you possess the power to shape a Philippines anchored in justice, animated by democracy, and sustained by the collective flourishing of its people.

The mantle of responsibility has passed to you. Do not falter beneath its weight; bear it with courage, for it is through your resolve that the nation will rise from the ruins of complacency. Let your unity transcend boundaries of region, class, and creed. Let your integrity redefine leadership, and your compassion restore faith in the Filipino spirit.

This is your hour. Let this narrative be not merely a call to awaken, but a solemn commitment―to the country that nurtures you, to the people who believe in you, and to the generations who will follow your example. Stand firm, for you are the heartbeat of a nation yearning to live with dignity once more. Speak right and shine!

Rise, Filipino youth, and let history remember that when your time came ―you stood unwavering, and the nation moved forward.