Corruption. That is our original sin—a generation being born into a culture of corruption, a generation growing up in a culture of kotong, kurakot at kickback, lagayan at areglo, and a generation who grew up in it, aging in it, most of them having given up hope, or in hoping, believe that change won't come in their lifetime, leaving behind a legacy of corruption and the burden of change.

We live in a system of institutionalized corruption, where politicians seek office for the power and the plunder, without honor and shame, bulimic in their bottomless greed, where the culture of dishonesty has trickled down and seeped into the seams and fabric of our existence—from the sophisticated machinations of government, to the sack of rice that buys the vote and feeds the hunger for a few days, from the greasing and wheeling-dealing of the influence peddlers in high office to the expediting and facilitating by the expectant municipal counter-worker, all working for their windfalls, under the cover of political office and guise of public service.

A rural village I frequent is a microcosm of this affliction — recurring scenario of blatant thievery and dishonesty, with clones of robin hoods, stealing in the name of hunger and need, justifying or minimizing their thieving and dishonesty with: LAHAT NAMAN SO GOBIERNO NAGNANAKAW, PAYAMAN NG PAYAMAN. . . PAANO KAMI NAIBA? AT KAMI NAGNANAKAW DAHIL SO GUTOM AT KAHIRAPAN. ANG MGA POLITICO, GANID, WALANG KATAPUSAN ANG PAGNANAKAW AT PAGPAPAYAMAN. How do you talk to them about honor and shame? For indeed, everyday we watch, read and listen to the same stories, of politicians and public servants in their reality shows of corruption and dishonesty, with their colleagues on the sidelines emoting in their oscar-winning performances of feigned indignation and condemnation at such moral depravity in their political houses, the present object of finger-pointing so thankful and relieved when someone new is brought up for chastisement and censure.

And we watch, read and listen, our anger and angst desensitized to the recurring scenarios in this wasteland of corruption, our social lamentations leading to the same questions: Why are we so corrupt?
Ano ang nangyari sa atin? Bakit tayo nagkaganito? Saan nagumpisa?
And we line up the usual suspects: Mga kastila, mga intsik, mga kano. Or did it start with a postwar president with his Golden Arinola? Or Plaza Miranda? Or, with Marcos? And all those who came after him?

After the usual suspects, we have to deal with the comic contradiction of corruption in this bastion of Catholicism in Asia, a country seemingly awash in religion, endlessly celebrating saints, Santo Niños and the Virgin. Is it the easy sacramental cleansing— repentance, confession and communion—that allows the ephemeral grace of God on weekends and the ravenous plunder on weekdays?

Lahat ating sinisisi. Pero gasgas na iyon. Sa totoo, lahat tayo may kasalanan. We allowed it to happen—decades of apathy and inaction, allowing the seeds of corruption to sprout and spread. Afflicted with amnesia, we keep voting the same group of people into office. And in the very instrument of "elections," the politicians have found the easy way of perpetuating themselves in their Grail of power and plunder. The checks and balances are gone, replaced by spin, denial, rhetoric and political whitewash. And through indifference and inaction, we enabled corruption.

Yes, we allowed it to happen—the comedy show of predictably fraudulent elections and the machinations of corruption perpetuated by nepotism and cronyism implanted and embedded into the political system. Collectively afflicted with inertia, we chose to look to other way, hopeful that prayers and miracles, a deus ex machina or a mythic hero will rescue us from this corrupt political wasteland.

Some say there is a collective failure of the Filipino's psyche—a complex of timidity and subservience to the rich and powerful, the "indionization" of our spirit, the "bahala na" or "bahala na ang Diyos" that rules the lives of many. There is nothing that truly holds the 7,000 islands together, that are separated not just by waters, but worse, by rabid, repressive and sometimes, hostile regionalism. Few deeply care about the suffering and turmoil in the south, not enough care about the suffering of the poor. We might sigh enough, but so few do little, if any all. Where will we find the collective will that can run the machinery of change?

Edsa 86 brought hope. I thought: wow! A true people's revolution. Alas, in the end, a miracle attributed to the Virgin, while the turncoats stumbled into each other as they declared themselves heroes of the revolution and warriors of change.

Akala natin si Marcos ang problema. Hindi pala. Ano ang nagbago? Patuloy pa rin ang paghihirap ng tao.

After EDSA, we continued to hope—an arrogant hope. I was told the winds of change were blowing, our generation of Archers and Eagles and Lions and dens filled with smoldering activists were lying in wait - waiting for another convergence of social elements and ingredients - to bring about the change.

But nothing happened.
The winds of change died down. Since then, burdened by a country that held little promise for a future, many have left in search of greener pastures, for a future with possibilities. . . and the exodus and diasporas continue.

In the interim, we have become more corrupt. The new colonizers have established their separate empires. And the divide between the rich and poor continues to widen.

The plight of the poor are presented to us in five-minute media news sound bites, in blogs, in u-tube videos, each with its consequent knee-jerk response of compassion and concern:
Is this true? Totoo ba ito? Ganyan bang kahirap ang mga Pilipino?
We have doses of that, recurrent doses of collective angst. But it wears off fast. The blinders are put on again. And in-between, the poor are usually invisible, the stark and cruel graphics of their existence have long ago ceased to touch us. The slums and shanties that collars around the burgis and gated communities. The young mother with her infant splayed in her arms, baking in the noonday sun, waiting for the light to turn red, for their minute of begging, knocking on our dark tinted windows that shields the anonymity of our unconcern. The children hawking stringed sampaguitas, innocence long gone, many inevitable into commerce of flesh. The father with the sleeping child tied to his back, his garbage bags in tow, digging through Christmas day rubble. Families feeding off "pagpag" meals or climbing their small mountains to dig into them for their livelihoods. There are a thousand and one such sights and stories, every day, anywhere, in Anytown, Philippines.

Where is our outrage?
Once, I was awed by the fearlessness of the media's pen and voice, charmed and challenged by the rhetoric. Editorials that spoke for the suffering masses, that exposed the machinations of government, that declared a "war on poverty and corruption," that called for "moral ascendancy" and the passionanate demand for "good governance" and the return of honor and shame, the demand for transparency–all inspiring slogans and catchwords that fueled the hopes and possibility for change.
Ang titinik, ang tatapang, I thought.
With pens like these, who needs the sword.
But mostly, nothing happened. The stories brought no outrage. Or if it did, it quietly fizzled or was elbowed out by a juicy piece of celebrity gossip or a fresher snippet of political scandal.

And I wondered, Who read? Who listened? And, who cared?
The rich, walled off in their gated-communities and vacationing in the green pastures of the common man's impossible dream, many enriching themselves from the pork and plunder of politics? The middle class, all too busy and desperately clutching on to their survival, or seeking their diaspora or dreaming their greener pasture? The poor, who have long ago accepted the hopelessness of dreaming for a future, surviving on a belief "na hindi naman kami papabayaan na Diyos"?

And the corrupt? Makakapal ang mukha nang mga iyan. Hindi na tinatalaban ng hiya. They know too well how to survive and outlast these periods of public censure and short bursts of outrage. Deny, whitewash, spin. Deny, whitewash, spin. For soon enough, ZTE or the latest KKK will become ho-hum and forgotten ingredients in the alphabet soup of corruption.

Yet, we continue to yearn, hope and clamor for change, albeit, with small measures of dissent, seasonal Edsa-inspired February protests, and pens that occasionally catch fire and inspire.

And we must continue to hope.

We must ponder the solutions?

And. . . we must ask: Do we have the collective will? Is there anything left in the Filipino's dwindled capacity for change?

The solutions?
Violent revolution?
I have listened to the impassioned hopelessness of some who believe that change is possible only through a violent upheaval, with a coalition of the bourgeoisie and the military, backing a "chosen" leader with the balls to shoot the perpetrators in a public plaza and mercilessly hack away at the many-headed beast of corruption that has for so long been raping this motherland.

Well, that makes for a good night of testosterone- and alcohol-fueled jingoistic conversation, and assuredly, an entertainingly heated debate choosing the cast of revolutionaries—trapos, pseudo-heroes, closeted and out-of-the closet megalomaniacs, self-proclaimed angels of change—who will star in this dream team of a revolution that has the longevity of a hangover.

Prayer Power?
I got that in an email. "Prayer Power: the ultimate and final solution." Wow! . . . May laban ba ang prayer power sa corruption?. In some medieval past, the Church sent out a Crusade to recover the Holy Land from the Muslims. Uh uh. . . Prayer power is not going to do it. The war against corruption will need something more proactive than that. And there's no Lady of Change with her miracle waiting in the wing.

No, neither a violent upheaval nor prayer power. Nor another EDSA or another kudeta attempt.

But it will take a revolution. . .
a revolution of the middle class. . a revolution of the its collective will and psyche, believing in bringing about change through the aegis and mechanisms of democracy.
We must believe change is possible. . .
then, ponder and ask if we have the collective will. For the revolution will demand of us commitment and sacrifice, into the myriad ways we can contribute, small and large, short-term and long-term, that can bring honor and shame back into our lives, and "passion" back into our souls, to set into motion a collective effort that can help bring about that urgent and desperate change, or a direction of change that will be our worthwhile legacy to inspire and burden the younger generations with.

Free and Honest Elections.
Recently, quite carried away ranting about the corrupt politicians, a young man admonished me:
Why are you so negative? That is why we have elections.
I almost laughed at his naivete, but ended up pondering his wisdom and his faith. For indeed, despite the oxymoron of" free and honest elections" in this country, therein lies a solution. For if the country can mobilize an effort, with a commitment from government and private institutions, with political reforms that will ensure free and honest elections, that can convince the jaded electorate to believe in the process again, that their votes can count, to seat into public office a new generation and breed of politicians and public servants that will commit to change, then we might be able to embark on a new road of consciousness, political cleansing and change.

Indeed, this is a flawed democracy, orchestrated by severely entrenched core systems of oligarchy and perpetuating corrupt political rules. But scattered censure and outrage have already seen the toppling of local political dynasties. Many are excited about what happened in Pampanga, some seeing it as proof positive for the possibility of change. Perhaps, the Panlilio syndrome is contagious. And I believe that there are many more men and women out there who can be drawn to politics for the public service and love of country, rather than the promise of power, personal gain, and plunder.
Education
Change will be fueled by different engines working in unison. Education is the one of those engines, in its forefront position in the assault on corruption. Alas, education, too, has suffered by the hands of government neglect and political avarice with the all too familiar skimming and kickbacks. Underpaid and overburdened, many unable to pass licensure exams, the past decades have seen a continuing decline of the education system, beset by the continuing "padrino" system, the desperate survival exodus of teachers. The house of education is in crisis and in dismal disrepair. If it is to assume its critical role in the process of change and rebirth, it has to be fixed, infused with long awaited changes and inspire teachers to join in the mission of education, to draw the masses away from their deepening belief that this is all we can be and this is our awful destiny.
Education for the select and burgis
The sad reality is that only a small and select segment of the children can avail of the education that is the privelege of the rich and the sponsored. So many are consigned to substandard education, tragically compounded by the diminishing cumulative education of family units.
Whence the teachers?
Despite Teacher Education being the second most popular college program, there continues to be a worsening shortage of teachers. There is a dismal passing rate on the Licensure exam. Many go to greener pastures to teach. Many are forced to find non-teaching jobs, some to work as maids. Where to find an infusion of skilled teachers?
The returning diaspora
Sa totoo, ang daming nating matitinik. Thousands are coming back, in droves of early retirement—professionals who have excelled in their fields of endeavor: scientists, doctors, nurses, engineers and many others with a sundry of practical skills. And so many more, lingering in the diaspora of their choice, free from material want, dreaming and hoping for change in their motherland. They could be asked to commit a year or two to a school or town of their choice, to share their knowledge or teach their skill. And if teaching is not in their thing, perhaps they can dig into their deep pockets and support a student through college. Imagine if this incredible untapped educational resource can be inspired to join in a crusade of change. Imagine from this, a Peace Corp Philippines. Imagine. . . just imagine.
And a rule of law
A "rule of law" is essential to change. Without this, change will flounder. And alas, the law often bends to the will of the rich and powerful.

The institutions of corruption are so entrenched. The corrupt will not give it up. It is something that has to be taken away from them. There are solutions, short-term and long-term, simple and complex. The many problems that beset us are so intertwined with and consequent to the corruption that plagues.
When, the change?
Where, the heroes?
When, the change?
To say: "Not in our lifetime" is to leave behind a terrible legacy that will consign to the younger generations the burden of change. To do nothing would ensure our continuing decline as a nation, mired in corruption, shackled by indifference. Certainly, we can survive another decade or generation of this, but along the way, in that passage of time, we will further lose much of ourselves, what
remains of our passion and will, and eventually, lose our capacity to hope.
Where, the heroes?
No Rizal, no Aguinaldo, no Bonifacio in this revolution.
But if such a change can come about, it will need many heroes, from our midst, from the middle class, from the diaspora—teachers, leaders, and volunteers who will commit, dedicate and sacrifice for change, in a massive and collective endeavor and a thousand and one grass root efforts that will draw people out of their shells of apathy and resignation, inspire the masa out of their helplessness and hopelessness, bridge together the thousands of islands and break down the barriers of regionalism and shatter the foundations of corruption.

We want change.
But do we have the machinery for change?
Do we have the collective will to achieve the change?
What are we willing to give, commit and sacrifice?

Godofredo Umali Stuart