In a world often tangled in political chess games, Bishop Gerardo Alminaza of San Carlos stands as a beacon of moral clarity, expressing his deep concern over the manipulation and division that seem to plague public discourse. He’s a man of faith, yes, but more importantly, he’s a human being deeply troubled by the state of things, especially when it comes to the suffering of his fellow Filipinos. He recently found himself in a difficult spot, as his words, meant to be a universal call for integrity, were twisted and thrown into the chaotic arena of political infighting.
Imagine trying to offer a guiding principle, a simple truth for everyone, and seeing it immediately weaponized by various factions, each trying to use it to their advantage. That’s precisely what happened to Bishop Alminaza. He clarified, with a heavy heart, that his statement wasn’t some coded message endorsing one political group over another. It wasn’t about defending a senator, a party, or a family, as some tried to claim. His appeal was far more fundamental: a plea for all public officials, regardless of their allegiances, to prioritize the crying needs of the Filipino people over their own political survival, personal agendas, and power struggles. He’s not interested in who wins or loses the political game; he’s interested in who is being served, and more often than not, it seems to be no one but the players themselves.
The Bishop’s message is rooted in a profound belief in accountability – a principle he insists should apply to everyone, without exception. He sees a dangerous trend where certain political camps, powerful dynasties, and even institutions believe they are above the law or beyond moral scrutiny. This is a common human failing, isn’t it? The temptation to believe one’s own position grants immunity from the very rules one expects others to follow. But Alminaza pushes back against this, arguing that in a just society, everyone, from the lowliest citizen to the highest official, must answer for their actions. It’s a simple concept, yet so incredibly difficult to uphold in practice, especially when power is involved.
His heart aches for the millions of Filipinos grappling with the harsh realities of poverty, hunger, unemployment, and the relentless rise in prices. He sees corruption as a cancer, eating away at the very resources meant to alleviate these sufferings. He worries about the environment, about the uncertain future, and about the fundamental need for leaders who genuinely respect the rule of law. It’s not just about rules on paper; it’s about the spirit of those rules, about leaders who embody truth, protect the institutions that are supposed to serve the people, and use their public office for selfless service. He’s essentially asking for a return to basic human decency in leadership, a commitment to the common good that transcends selfish ambition.
Bishop Alminaza’s concern isn’t narrow; it’s expansive, encompassing anyone who uses public platforms, especially the esteemed Senate, to further their own interests instead of pursuing justice and accountability for all. This includes a wide array of problematic behaviors that he believes erode trust and hinder progress. He speaks of those who trivialise or obstruct the very processes designed to hold people accountable – a common tactic to avoid facing consequences. He decries those who normalize impunity, effectively telling people that bad behavior will go unpunished. And crucially, he calls out those who weaponize misinformation and disinformation, twisting facts to manipulate public opinion and control narratives. This is a particularly insidious threat in our modern age, as the truth becomes an increasingly elusive commodity.
He also identifies a particularly disturbing trend: the exploitation of religion and scripture to justify political agendas. This, he argues, is a profound betrayal of faith, especially when it’s used to ignore the suffering of victims and the poor. It’s a sad irony when the very teachings meant to uplift and protect the vulnerable are twisted to rationalize their neglect. And then, there’s the outright corruption, the plunder of public funds – money that should be used for vital services and disaster relief – while ordinary Filipinos are left to contend with floods, hunger, displacement, and a pervasive sense of neglect. For Bishop Alminaza and many others, this is an unbearable injustice, a stark reminder of the human cost of venality.
The Church, in his view, cannot afford to remain silent when the public sphere is poisoned by lies and deceit. He sees democratic institutions, vital safeguards of freedom and justice, being reduced to mere political spectacles, performances designed to entertain or distract rather than to serve. And perhaps most tragically, he observes the immense suffering of the poor becoming overshadowed by an endless, often petty, partisan conflict. It’s as if the spotlight is always on the squabbles of the powerful, while those truly in need are left in the shadows.
His appeal, therefore, is wonderfully simple yet incredibly urgent: “restore dignity, truthfulness, sobriety, integrity, and moral responsibility in public service.” These aren’t abstract concepts to him; they are the very foundations of a just and compassionate society. The Filipino people, he insists, deserve leaders who are driven by a genuine quest for justice, not propaganda; who embrace accountability, not impunity; and who are committed to selfless service, not self-preservation. In a world often characterized by complexity, Bishop Alminaza’s message cuts through the noise, reminding us of the fundamental human values that should guide all those who aspire to lead. He’s not asking for perfection, but for a profound shift in priorities – from self to service, from division to unity, and from manipulation to truth.