The Filipino Beat

Every payday, millions of Filipinos sit down with the same ritual: count the pesos, divide them across rent, food, transport, family needs. It’s a math problem that never balances. Take Ana, a sales clerk in Manila. Her daily pay is ₱610. At first glance, it […]

Every payday tells a story. A factory worker in Manila collects his envelope—minimum wage, the government says, enough to protect him. He goes home, lays out the bills: rent, rice, jeepney fare, school projects, medicine for his mother. He counts carefully, stretching pesos like elastic.

I still remember sitting in front of the television, my coffee turning cold, as I watched the Senate hearings on the Pharmally scandal in 2021. Senators were grilling young executives of a small company that—almost overnight—secured billions of pesos worth of contracts for pandemic supplies.

Every rainy season, the Philippines drowns. Students wade through flooded streets. Roofs become communal sleeping platforms. Boats replace jeepneys. Year after year, the same tragedy. And still—we spend. Billions. On dikes. On drainage. On pumping stations. In 2025 alone, billions was poured into flood control.

Let’s be fair from the start: nobody chooses their parents. If you’re born into a powerful family, that’s not a crime. You didn’t file an application form saying, “Please make me the son or daughter of a senator.” You just showed up in the world

Justice is supposed to mean fairness, balance, and order. Yet in the Philippines—as in many parts of the world—justice often favors the powerful and punishes the powerless. Recently, ABS-CBN reported the story of a woman who spent 23 years in prison for a crime that

There’s a province where the governor is the father. The congressman is the son. The mayor of the capital town is the daughter. The uncle is a barangay captain. And when elections come around, they switch chairs like it’s a family game of musical chairs.

It was one of those sticky afternoons in Makati, the kind where traffic lights feel longer than they should. I was inching forward when the car in front of me hesitated — unsure if it should turn left or right. I stopped just behind it.

I am not a lawyer. I am not a politician. I am just an ordinary Filipino who believes in one thing—that no one, not even the most powerful, should ever stand above the Constitution. But what we have just witnessed in the impeachment controversy against

There I was, watching Senator Ping Lacson questioning the disappearance of billions in PhilHealth funds after the bicameral conference committee. It was vintage Lacson — precise, relentless, allergic to excuses. And it made me reimagine something I’d shelved years ago: What if, in 2028, we

Ask any Filipino—diskarte or diploma? You’ll spark a debate. One side swears by the street smarts that get things done now. The other side says without a degree, you’ll never break into the real game. It’s the kind of argument that’s been going around for

Kindness. It’s often overlooked, underestimated, or seen as soft. But showing kindness every day? That’s where real impact begins. It’s easy to brush kindness aside, especially in environments that push for competition and performance. But the truth is, kindness builds everything—from the person who gives

Bringing back malikhain isn’t about making grand gestures. It’s about small steps that rekindle the creative flame within each of us. It’s about remembering that creativity is a vital part of who we are.