This is not a new phenomenon. History has seen rulers hailed almost as gods—from Egyptian pharaohs to medieval kings claiming divine rights. Today’s leaders do not need to declare themselves divine to inspire the same level of loyalty. A study in Political Psychology finds that certain personality traits make people more likely to align with such figures, including high conscientiousness, low openness, and a preference for solid hierarchies (Goldsmith & Moen, 2024). This combination fosters rigid loyalty, creating an environment where questioning the leader feels like a betrayal.

Much of this loyalty comes from a desire for identity and belonging. Amid the uncertainty of modern life, it can be comforting to place unwavering trust in someone who claims to have all the answers. These followers see their leader as a stable force, representing security in an increasingly chaotic world. Followers do not just see policies; they see a part of themselves reflected in the leader’s words and actions. Freud’s concept of “primitive thinking” explains why we cling to simplified worldviews. When reality gets too complex, it is easier to let a leader define our beliefs than to grapple with endless ambiguities.

Social media has amplified this dynamic, creating echo chambers that reinforce loyalty. Unlike traditional cults requiring physical isolation, today’s “political cults” thrive online, where users can block out opposing voices and filter their feeds to show only what aligns with their beliefs. Research shows this digital cocoon allows for extreme ideas to go unchallenged, as these echo chambers reinforce the sense that only “insiders” know the truth (Cialdini, 2022). In this setting, followers double down on their loyalty, tuning out anything that could disrupt their chosen reality.

Charismatic leaders play a huge role in sustaining this loyalty, positioning themselves as figures who “get” the fears and frustrations of their base. Studies reveal that these leaders often score high in traits associated with authoritarianism, focusing on clear-cut rules and a strong “us versus them” mentality (Duckitt, 2021). Their appeal comes from tapping into a deep-seated need for security, especially in times of social upheaval. For these supporters, the leader becomes a beacon of protection, promising to fend off threats real or imagined.

This strong personal attachment explains why criticism of the leader feels so personal to followers. To question the leader is, in a sense, to question themselves. Drawing on Carl Jung’s “shadow” concept, this reaction can be seen as a projection of insecurities—followers defend the leader not just for their sake but as a shield for their self-worth. In their minds, they are not merely defending a politician; they are defending a worldview that keeps them anchored.

Complicating this further, loyalty often prevents these followers from acknowledging the leader’s flaws. Cognitive dissonance—the discomfort we feel when presented with evidence contradicting our beliefs—plays a big role here. The more these loyalists invest in their leader, the harder it becomes for them to admit any shortcomings. They rationalize or dismiss negative information rather than face the unease of doubt. According to Social Influence studies, the emotional and social cost of changing beliefs can feel too great, reinforcing this cycle of self-deception.

In times of crisis, such leaders often portray themselves as the last defense against chaos, heightening followers’ loyalty by presenting a vision of doom that only they can avert. This creates an existential attachment where supporting the leader feels like a matter of survival. For the followers, defending the leader is not just about political preference; it becomes an all-encompassing identity. Their fears and hopes converge in a narrative where any threat to the leader feels like a direct threat to their security.

But what could ever shake such devotion? Historical patterns show that political “cults” often unravel when leaders face undeniable public failure or scandal. Over time, the idealized image can erode, especially when external forces—journalistic investigations, legal consequences, or visible contradictions—break through the veneer of invincibility. For many, disillusionment is not sparked by others’ arguments but through personal encounters with truth, leading to painful but transformative shifts in perspective.

Ultimately, breaking free from blind loyalty requires more than confronting facts; it demands a reawakening of individual values and deeper engagement with critical thinking. True patriotism is about critical loyalty—not to a single figure but to the principles that keep society fair and just. For democracy to work, our loyalty needs to be rooted in collective ideals, not in individuals who claim to embody them all. In nurturing a culture of thoughtful skepticism and genuine civic engagement, we strengthen democracy by honoring values over personalities.

History reminds us that devotion to principles outlasts devotion to people. To build a future on solid ground, we need to place our faith not in infallible leaders but in the shared commitment to integrity, truth, reason, fortitude, and social justice. Real patriotism demands more than loyalty; it requires the courage to ask, think, and choose beyond the seductive pull of unquestioned allegiance.

Doc H fondly describes himself as a ”student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.

The post Eyes wide to blind loyalty first appeared on Iloilo Metropolitan Times.

According to Microsoft Copilot, “social networking refers to the use of dedicated websites and applications to interact with other users or to find people with similar interests. These platforms allow individuals to create profiles, share information, and engage in various forms of communication, such as posting updates, sharing photos and videos, commenting on content, and sending direct messages.”

Copilot also says that some common features of social networking sites are:

* Profiles – Personal or business profiles where users can share information about themselves, such as their interests, background, and activities.

* Connections – Users can connect with friends, family, colleagues, or like-minded individuals by sending friend requests or following each other.

* Content Sharing – Users can post updates, photos, videos, articles, and other types of content to their profiles or feeds.

* Messaging – Many social networks offer direct messaging features for private communication between users.

* Groups and Communities – Users can join or create groups based on shared interests, hobbies, or professions.

While most of us are familiar with Facebook, there are other social networking sites (SNS) such as Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn, and TikTok. But you might ask why I am giving you this introduction?

My answer is very simple. While most of us ordinary netizens are using social media to connect, share content and message with each other, the majority of national government agencies (NGAs) and local government units (LGUs) do not seem to be doing it, hence the apparent lack of coordination and collaboration among them.

And what is my proof for saying that?

I know because I am sending messages everyday to many NGAs and LGUs via Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, but very few among them answer. And if they do answer, it is usually an autoreply from a chatbot that tells me that they will get back to me as soon as possible, but they never do.

According to Google Search, there were 102, 317,900 Facebook users in Philippines in November 2024, which accounted for 86.6% of our entire population. Can you imagine that?

Speaking about outbound communications alone, the government could already reach almost everyone in our country free of charge, by using Facebook alone! But since most of our government officials and employees are also subscribed to at least one platform, they could also use social media to connect, share content and message with each other, but they are apparently not doing that as much as they need to.

In the interest of data security, all government officials and employees are supposed to be using their corporate email accounts to communicate with each other, and with the public. But not too many of them are doing that either, because they prefer to use their private email accounts such as Yahoo and Gmail.

In practical terms, most netizens prefer to use social media for messaging, instead of email. That being the case, the NGAs and LGUs must adjust to the reality by also using social media if the netizens prefer to use that. But first, they must reply to the messages sent to them.

The post Social networking for gov’t first appeared on Iloilo Metropolitan Times.

Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.

The post Beyond the degrees first appeared on Iloilo Metropolitan Times.

The good news is, there is a system for rating the performance of mayors and governors, based on Key Performance Indicators (KPIs). The bad news is, it is difficult to find the data online, not even on the Department of Interior and Local Government (DILG) website.

The website has a search engine, but it returns a blank every time I search for “KPIs”. It is either the data is not there at all, or the website is not really that user friendly, such that it is difficult to search for data.

According to Microsoft Copilot, “the Seal of Good Local Governance (SGLG) program is an initiative by the Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG) that sets the criteria for evaluating the performance of local government units (LGUs), including provinces, cities, and municipalities. The goal is to promote transparency, accountability, and effective governance”.

The following are the criteria for SGLG Evaluation, also according to Copilot:

1. Financial Administration – Efficient use of resources and proper management of public funds

2. Disaster Preparedness – Readiness to respond to natural disasters and emergencies

3. Social Protection – Programs for the welfare of the disadvantaged and vulnerable sectors

4. Peace and Order – Maintenance of public safety and security

5. Business Friendliness and Competitiveness – Creation of a conducive environment for businesses to thrive

6. Environmental Management – Sustainable practices for protecting the environment

7. Tourism, Culture, and Arts – Promotion and development of local tourism and cultural heritage

Copilot further says that “Mayors and governors are evaluated based on these criteria, and those who meet or exceed the standards are awarded the SGLG. This recognition not only brings prestige but also qualifies the LGU for the Performance Challenge Fund (PCF), which provides financial incentives for further development projects.”

I do not know about you, but would it not be a good idea if we could just convince all our voters to vote only for the winners of the SGLG? Or perhaps those who have the potential of winning that award?

In so many ways, the SGLG is like a scorecard, in other words a grading system that could objectively tell us who are doing very well in serving their constituents and who are not.

In a manner of speaking this is about knowing who the passers and who the flunkers are. Presumably, the flunkers in this case are those who are dumb, lazy or incompetent, that is why they fail to make the grade.

But if the people are the ones voting for them repeatedly, who do you think are dumb?

Albert Einstein said that “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”. Surely, no one could say that Einstein is dumb in saying that. Many of those who believe that they are not dumb do not like the idea of actors, athletes and other seemingly unqualified people to run for public office.

Sad to say, we could not stop them from running, because we are a democracy. But what if they win the SGLG awards during their first term? Would it not prove that they are not dumb?

The post Key performance indicators first appeared on Iloilo Metropolitan Times.

We have long been caught in a paradox: although our Constitution guarantees justice, those most in need are often left without access. From the horrific memory of the Maguindanao massacre to the continuous extrajudicial killings connected to the so-called war on drugs, the terrain of the nation is covered with impunity. This ingrained problem lets those in positions of power evade responsibility, establishing a risky precedent whereby silence is bought, responsibility is rare, and fear is turned into currency.

For many of us, especially those who dare to question authority, impunity is not a political concept but a lived reality. Think back on the narrative of Laguna’s young activist, John Garcia. After devoting his life to promoting human rights, he became a target. He fears being followed, harassed, or perhaps worse—disappearing without a trace. Stories like his are not isolated; they reflect a frightening trend whereby speaking out invites reprisals, usually from those who are supposed to defend. They also echo throughout the country.

Data show the seriousness of this crisis. The Commission on Human Rights (CHR) claims that since 2016, over 427 recorded cases of murders aimed at human rights defenders exist. When one considers the Third World Studies Center of the UP Diliman, which recorded 234 drug-related deaths in less than a year following the termination of the Duterte government, the numbers get even more striking. These numbers show a systematic betrayal of justice as much as a failure of law enforcement.

This culture’s roots run deep. Still a symbol of how ingrained impunity is in the system, the infamous Maguindanao massacre claimed the lives of 58 persons—including 32 journalists. Several suspects remain free despite a ten-year trial; many of the convictions were among members of the political elite. The massacre made clear not only the frailty of Philippine democracy but also how power protects the privileged from bearing consequences.

Under former President Duterte, the issue got worse. His government’s rhetoric not only supported violence but also presented human rights defenders as enemies of the state. The United Nations has classified the Philippines under Duterte’s rule as one of the most dangerous places for journalists and activists. Many found themselves in legal limbo, arrested without due process, or worse—permanently silenced. Red-tagging, or labeling activists as communists without evidence, became a widespread and dangerous tool for repression.

Duterte’s arrest by Philippine authorities and his forced transport to The Hague signal a major shift. For years, critics feared that he would never be held accountable for the thousands of deaths under his war on drugs. But with the ICC’s involvement, international mechanisms have taken over where local justice failed. Human rights groups, including Amnesty International and the CHR, view this as a critical step toward global accountability, even as Duterte’s allies attempt to block legal proceedings.

The government of President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. inherited this alarming legacy, and even with reform pledges, advancement is still elusive. Extrajudicial killings under his supervision, according to an Amnesty International investigation, reflect a government either unable or unwilling to reduce systematic violence. The inquiry into the drug war deaths by the ICC emphasizes, even more, how worldwide institutions acknowledge the seriousness of the problem even if local systems remain unchanged.

This culture of impunity results not only from state neglect but also from society’s abdication. The cycle deepens when the public grows numb to injustice—that is when deaths are only numbers on news headlines. While dishonest and corrupt politicians exploit the indifference, fear has quieted communities. Juggling daily challenges of survival and livelihood, the typical Filipino feels helpless to demand responsibility from those in power.

Notwithstanding these difficult facts, there are still flashes of resistance. Often in great personal danger, the CHR and many non-governmental organizations keep recording violations and advocating responsibility. Community-led initiatives like those by fishermen around Tañon Strait fighting poverty and environmental damage are potent reminders that local action can gradually upset the machinery of impunity.

One cannot overstate the role education plays in destroying this culture. Schools must encourage critical thinking, justice, responsibility, and empathy. Including courses on civic responsibility in curricula will enable the following generation to challenge power systems and advocate for changes. Although this movement begins at the local level, significant progress depends on systematic support.

Laws alone, though, will not be enough. For example, the Human Rights Defenders Protection Act still sits in legislative deadlock. Should this law be passed, it would provide protection for activists, ensuring that those who uphold justice are not criminalized for their activity. However, without real political will, it risks being just another token gesture in a nation where legal protections sometimes go unpacked.

Breaking the cycle of impunity calls for a collective awakening rather than only reactive responses. We must question the narrative that seeking justice is useless and that power is untouchable. Making leaders, including those who plundered, laundered, abused, embezzled, and misused public money, answerable should be a civic obligation rather than a revolt. Our country can only expect to rebuild confidence in its institutions by tearing down the systems allowing impunity to flourish.

The struggle against impunity is about restoring dignity to people silenced by fear, not just punishing offenders. It is about ensuring that long-delayed justice is not denied and that the voices of the weak are heard. Though the road forward is complex, the stakes—freedom, human rights, democracy, good governance—are far too significant to tolerate anything less.

Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.

The post Justice on the run first appeared on Iloilo Metropolitan Times.

The Benefits of a Community-Driven Approach

When every member of our community is involved in hosting and tourism, the benefits are twofold. First, it gives people a profound sense of ownership over our cultural heritage. It is this deep-rooted pride that transforms passive onlookers into passionate storytellers. A community that believes in its own culture naturally becomes the best advocate for it, presenting a genuine and relatable image to the world. Second, a well-trained local community elevates the quality of the overall visitor experience. When every interaction is infused with authentic warmth and knowledgeable service, visitors are more likely to enjoy longer stays, spend more, and ultimately return—fueling sustainable economic growth.

Community-Level Conversations and Training

If we aspire to be a leader in cultural tourism and even a top choice for MICE (Meetings, Incentives, Conferences, and Exhibitions), our starting point must be the community. We need to be more aggressive in fostering a culture of hospitality that begins at the grassroots. This means bringing conversations about our cultural identity and heritage directly to the barangays, schools, and local associations. When training programs are held at the community level, the knowledge and enthusiasm for hosting and tourism are not confined to a few elite institutions; they permeate every corner of our society.

Imagine local governments and provincial agencies launching regular training sessions and workshops on hospitality, storytelling, and customer service—all tailored to the Ilonggo context. These programs should be designed to empower even the most unassuming member of the community to share our cultural riches with visitors confidently. They can include practical sessions, role-playing exercises, and even mentorship opportunities where experienced local hosts pass on their expertise to younger generations. This approach not only refines the skills of our people but also cements a collective commitment to showcase our heritage with pride.

Embracing an Aggressive, Inclusive Strategy

Our competitors in other provinces are not standing still; they are actively working to attract more tourists by leveraging their local culture. If we want to maintain—and even enhance—our status as a cultural and heritage tourism leader, we must be equally, if not more, aggressive in our efforts. This means setting clear objectives at both the city and provincial levels to integrate community-based hospitality training into our broader tourism strategy. It means recognizing that true progress in the MICE sector starts at the very grassroots level, where every Ilonggo is prepared to welcome the world.

A Future Built on Shared Heritage

I have seen firsthand the transformative power of a community united by pride and purpose. When we invest in training our people and instill a sense of ownership over our shared heritage, we create a vibrant ecosystem where culture and commerce thrive together. This is the kind of future that makes Iloilo not only a memorable destination but also a beacon of sustainable and inclusive growth.

Let us all—government leaders, educators, business owners, and every citizen—commit to this vision. By involving everyone in the promotion of our arts and culture, we can build a future where the true essence of the Ilonggo spirit is celebrated in every interaction, every smile, and every shared story. In doing so, we not only enrich our community but also demonstrate to the world that our heritage is not just preserved in memory—it is lived, experienced, and proudly shared.

Ken Lerona is a marketing and branding leader with over 20 years of experience. He conducts talks and workshops for private and government organizations and consults on innovation and reputational risk management. Connect with him on LinkedIn at www.linkedin.com/in/kenlerona.

The post Inclusive Tourism: Inviting Every Ilonggo to Be a Cultural Ambassador first appeared on Iloilo Metropolitan Times.

It is a disheartening trend. The ayuda was a testament to the spirit of bayanihan, a collective effort to uplift those in need. But as the months turned into years, the narrative shifted. Stories emerged of beneficiaries who refused jobs, relying instead on cash handouts, families expecting continuous support without making efforts to improve their situation, or public officials shamelessly using this for their political campaigns. While it is unfair to paint all recipients with the same brush, the underlying issue remains: aid without accountability risks creating dependency rather than dignity.

This pattern of undervaluing what is freely given is not confined to social programs. Consider free higher education, a landmark policy, penned by the good Senator Bam Aquino, that has opened the doors of universities to countless students. Yet, some squander this privilege—skipping classes, submitting lackluster work, and demanding grades they do not deserve. The entitlement is palpable: the education is free, so there is no perceived urgency to take it seriously. But here is the catch: nothing is truly free. Taxpayers foot the bill, while society feels the impact of poorly educated graduates.

Similarly, we often overlook the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the food we enjoy daily. These basic necessities, seemingly abundant, are the result of complex systems and sacrifices. Clean air is the fruit of environmental advocacy; potable water requires infrastructure; and the food we eat involves the labor of farmers and workers. Yet, their true worth only becomes apparent when scarcity strikes—when smog clouds our cities, water supply runs low, or food prices soar.

The same holds true for our rights and freedoms. These were not handed to us effortlessly; they were won through the blood, sweat, and lives of our heroes and activists. Every protest, every sacrifice, every battle fought in the name of justice carved out the liberties we now enjoy. But how often do we honor this legacy? Some use their freedoms recklessly—complaining about governance without voting, or abusing human rights without upholding their own responsibilities. Freedom, much like higher education, is not free—it is a mandate to act responsibly and contribute meaningfully.

At the root of these issues is the tendency to mistake free for valueless. It is an attitude that seeps into relationships, too. Parents, guardians, and breadwinners give their all, often unnoticed, until their children grow up and face similar struggles, finally grasping the depth of their sacrifices. Similarly, friendships and partnerships thrive on mutual effort and respect. When one party takes the other for granted, the bond begins to erode. Gratitude is the currency that sustains these invisible but vital connections.

Modern privileges highlight this problem even further. Gadgets, apps, and the internet have transformed lives, but they are often wasted on distractions or misinformation instead of being tools for growth. The ease of access obscures the monumental effort behind these innovations, reducing them to mere conveniences rather than transformative resources. It is a glaring reminder that when we do not invest effort or resources into something, its value diminishes in our eyes.

Even the arts and humanities, often consumed freely, suffer from this undervaluation. Music, literature, culture, and visual art enrich our lives, but how often do we support the creators behind them? Piracy and free streaming have made these works accessible but at the cost of the artists’ livelihood. If we truly cherish cultural treasures, we must support them consciously. The same goes for free education, ayudas, and other benefits—they are only meaningful if we acknowledge their cost and use them responsibly.

The continuing free higher education and ayuda programs reveal a deeper societal dilemma: how do we balance support and empowerment? Aid is necessary in times of crisis, but it must come with pathways to independence. Otherwise, it risks becoming a crutch rather than a stepping stone. We have seen it before in other countries where welfare systems, poorly managed, fostered long-term dependency. Our country must learn from these examples, ensuring that assistance programs are coupled with opportunities for skill-building, employment, and self-sufficiency.

In the end, the solution lies in a collective shift in mindset. Free does not mean worthless; it means entrusted. Every privilege comes with an obligation to honor and maximize it. Whether it is free education, ayuda, or even the air we breathe, we must recognize the effort behind it and rise to meet its potential. Entitlement is easy; gratitude and responsibility are harder—but they are what transform benefits into blessings.

If we fail to instill this mindset, we risk breeding a culture of complacency and vagrancy. But if we succeed, we can create a society that values effort, respects opportunity, and uplifts everyone. Freely given does not have to mean barely appreciated. It can mean deeply valued, wisely used, and genuinely repaid. After all, the greatest things in life—love, freedom, opportunity—are gifts, but they are never truly free.

Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.

The post The cost of free first appeared on Iloilo Metropolitan Times.

Many developments will be happening in the United States that we should be monitoring closely, because it is certainly going to affect our country one way or another. One of these developments is the role that Mr. Elon Musk is going to play in the use of technology under the administration of President Donald Trump, considering that Mr. Musk is probably going to be either an adviser or a member of President Trump’s cabinet.

But before moving out any further, allow me to point out that in the US, they do not have a Department of Information and Communications Technology (DICT) as we have it here. What they have over there is the National Telecommunications and Information Administration (NTIA).

Unlike the DICT whose function is more of program development and project management rather than policy planning, the role of NTIA is more of policy planning and advising the President.

According to Microsoft Copilot, “the NTIA works to ensure that all Americans have access to affordable, reliable high-speed Internet, promotes efficient use of the public airwaves, and supports the development of policies that keep the internet safe and secure”.

Also, according to Copilot, the White House has an “Office of Science and Technology Policy (OSTP). The OSTP is part of the Executive Office of the President and serves as the President’s principal advisor on science and technology matters. The office works to ensure that the policies of the federal government are informed by sound science and that the United States remains a global leader in science and technology. The OSTP is led by the Director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy, who also serves as the Assistant to the President for Science and Technology”.

I mentioned all this background information because I believe that eventually, Musk might either have to collaborate with both the NTIA and the OSTP, or he might end up supervising them if he joins the Trump administration. Chances are he could even head these two agencies himself concurrently, that is.

Aside from announcing his preference for both artificial intelligence (AI) and cryptocurrency, Musk is widely known to be supporting blockchain technology as well. It goes without saying that he will also support bitcoin technology, because it is a form of cryptocurrency that operates on a decentralized network using blockchain technology.

While we are already getting some inklings as to which direction the US will take in using these technologies, I wonder what direction the Philippines will take?

Independent of Mr. Musk’s reported plans and actions, the US Congress is already conducting its own public hearing about how they want AI to be used and regulated.

Here in the Philippines, neither the Executive Branch nor the Legislative Branch is touching the issue yet. But if either of the two branches would like to study the interconnected subjects of AI, machine learning, blockchains, cryptocurrency, bitcoins and robotics, I would be willing to assemble a committee of scientists, technologists, engineers and other practitioners to advise the government, for the good of the country.

The post Blockchains and bitcoins first appeared on Iloilo Metropolitan Times.

There is ample evidence suggesting that education, as currently structured, may entrench inequalities rather than alleviate them. Despite its altruistic goals, it often categorizes, limits, and constraints. Paulo Freire, the Brazilian educator and philosopher known for “Pedagogy of the Oppressed,” believed traditional education systems can oppress. Passivity in the classroom makes critical thinking less important than conformity. Freire saw this as an education that disciplines rather than liberates, creating a compliant workforce rather than thoughtful, empowered citizens.

Today, educators and policymakers strive to reform curricula and enhance teacher training, but they sometimes overlook how the structure itself limits potential. In our country, for example, despite years of reforms, students’ reading, math, and science competencies remain below global standards. Studies have shown that the root of this crisis is not always lack of effort but the system’s inherent design—one that is slow to adapt, often rigid, and focused on producing workers for an economy rather than nurturing human development. An endless focus on standardized testing has only exacerbated this problem, creating classrooms where memorization is prioritized over actual comprehension and creativity.

Furthermore, formal education can disregard the significance of local wisdom and practical knowledge. For instance, a farmer may have decades of experience in sustainable agriculture, adapting practices handed down through generations. But when agricultural experts arrive with “modern” methods, the farmer’s insights are frequently dismissed as outdated. This dynamic, seen in development projects worldwide, reflects a narrow vision of education that overlooks local wisdom (Tigabu, 2023). In contrast, a holistic approach would integrate these insights with academic knowledge, fostering respect for diverse ways of knowing. But when education is used to impose, rather than learn from, these realities, it becomes part of the problem.

Likewise, the rise of neoliberal educational frameworks has resulted in what can be described as “productivity at all costs.” Students are often treated as cogs in an economic machine, conditioned to prioritize productivity over personal well-being. This has led to a culture where rest, curiosity, and reflection are secondary to grades, deadlines, and measurable outcomes. The result? Students feel disconnected and, at times, dehumanized, as education becomes a relentless pursuit of achievement rather than a journey of growth. The late-night study sessions, sacrifices of mental health, and pressure to excel only reinforce this exhausting cycle (Hiñosa, 2021).

Education also holds the danger of perpetuating economic divides. In private and public schooling contexts, socio-economic disparities are stark. Access to better-resourced private schools is an advantage tied to family income, not individual potential. Similarly, tertiary education, once considered a direct path to economic stability, has now become a financial strain for many families. As a result, young people graduate saddled with debt, and the guarantee of a better life is anything but assured. In the U.S., for instance, student debt has ballooned to over $1 trillion—a crisis echoed by graduates worldwide. Consequently, instead of being the bridge to a better life, education becomes a barrier in itself, leading to stress, financial struggles, and a diluted sense of purpose.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, we saw education’s rigidity laid bare. As traditional schooling structures collapsed, learning took on new forms—remote classes, independent projects, even community-based learning. This period was a stark reminder that education should not be confined to classrooms. In fact, “learning to learn”—a 21st-century skill essential for adapting to change—has been the real lesson for many. However, the pandemic also highlighted the stark digital divide. Wealthier students continued their studies with relative ease, while those from marginalized backgrounds faced connectivity issues, device shortages, and inadequate learning environments (Luz, 2020). These inequities underscore how education can be exclusionary, leaving vulnerable students further behind.

The education system also neglects students’ socio-emotional needs. Social psychologists argue that self-worth and mental well-being are critical components of effective learning, yet these are often sidelined in favor of academic achievements. The intense pressure to perform and meet expectations is detrimental, especially for students who struggle academically. Even as the Department of Education acknowledges these issues, structural change needs to be more active, weighed down by bureaucracy and limited funding. Education reforms too often focus on results, failing to consider the holistic development of learners, leaving students mentally exhausted and emotionally disconnected from their education.

Critics argue that education’s tendency to label and categorize students is another facet of its complicity in social inequality. The reality is that students learn differently; some thrive in traditional settings, while others excel in hands-on environments. Yet, our system rewards conformity, sidelining unique strengths in favor of predefined metrics. In the Philippines, students must meet “Most Essential Learning Competencies,” which often translates to rigid, test-based criteria. This standardization misses the vast array of human potential that lies outside these boundaries, limiting how students perceive their own capacities and stifling individuality.

Additionally, education that teaches only to replicate existing systems overlooks its responsibility to empower students to imagine alternatives. Holistic education usually emphasizes self-reflection and service, urging students to connect personal goals with a broader social mission. Education should ideally equip students to discern their path with a purpose that benefits not only themselves but their communities. When this reflective, purposeful approach is missing, education becomes a hollow pursuit, detached from students’ lived realities and future aspirations.

To turn education into a solution rather than a part of the problem, it must be reimagined as a dynamic and inclusive experience that values both intellect and character. Schools and universities should consider co-learning spaces where students engage actively with communities and contribute beyond the classroom. They should seek out opportunities for dialogue, bringing the wisdom of different generations to the table. Instead of dictating a curriculum, teachers could help students explore with critical thinking and self-awareness tools.

Education’s strength is its ability to grow—not just in content but in how it fosters a community that values curiosity, collaboration, and compassion. For education to be transformative, we must question norms, challenge assumptions, and be more inclusive and flexible. It is not enough to adjust the school calendar, cut the competencies, or tweak the curriculum; we need a profound shift that centers learning as a shared, meaningful endeavor. Education should be less about feeding young minds with facts and more about helping them cultivate a critical awareness that leads to genuine understanding and action.

At its best, education can be the bedrock of a more just society, an invitation to explore and transform. But when it clings to outdated hierarchies and rigid structures, it loses this potential, risking its role as a positive force. It is high time we rethink how we approach education if we want to truly tackle the issues it sometimes upholds without meaning to. Instead of treating education as a rigid structure, let us see it as a way to liberate, spark curiosity, and inspire change. Doing this can create a generation of skilled, deeply aware, compassionate, and world-changing learners.

Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.

The post Learning in chains first appeared on Iloilo Metropolitan Times.

WHILE other Christians believe that only God and the Bible have authority, we, Catholics, believe the ailing Pope Francis of Argentina is the highest representative of God on Earth.

No one can predict though what will happen next to the very ill Pope Francis, 88, except God.

Since God doesn’t report to us—or doesn’t have the obligation to tell us directly about the Pope’s life span, let’s now leave everything to the medical science, the area where there is no conflict with religion.   

Catholicism, which is dominant in my country of birth, the Philippines, is just a branch of Christianity, but the largest branch with about 1.3 billion followers worldwide.

We were born and baptized as Christians and our basic education in religion was about Christianity, about Jesus Christ as the “Son of God” our “Savior who died for our sins.”

Our education further brought us to Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, Taoism, Zoroastrianism, among other primitive religions.  

Then came Gandhi, a Hindu, who had allegedly proclaimed “he loved Jesus but not the Christians.” There were Christians who allegedly parried Gandhi by saying “they loved the famous Indian pacifist but not Hinduism”. A tit for a tat.

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Like all Catholics and Christians for that matter, the Pope, one of the most vilified persons in the world, isn’t perfect. Below are some of shocking myths we gathered about Christianity, which many of us may agree or disagree:

1. Christians force their morality on others.

-According to this myth, Christians are judgmental and act as society’s moral watchdogs. And they try to censor everything from the arts to sex education.

2. Christians suppress women.

-According to this myth, the church through the ages has stifled the voice and gifts of women and has treated women as second-class beings.

3. Christians caused the ecological crisis.

-According to this myth, the Christian religion is alienated from the natural world. The Bible says to subdue the earth, and Western Christian culture took that as a license to exploit nature.

4. Christians are anti-scientific.

-According to this myth, the church has historically suppressed learning in general and scientific inquiry in particular. Christians even promote pseudoscience by trying to force science to fit a literal interpretation of the Bible.

5. Christians have done terrible things in the name of Christ.

-This myth cited the wrongs that have been done in the name of Christianity—everything from the Crusades to televangelist scandals.

6. Christian missionaries destroy native cultures.

-According to this myth, Christian missionaries force indigenous peoples to give up their unique culture. Christians don’t respect the spiritual value in native customs and religions.

7. Christians are arrogant.

-According to this myth, all religions teach basically the same thing, but Christians insist their religion is the only one that’s right. They arrogantly claim that Jesus Christ is the only way to God. That may be true for Christians, but it isn’t true for everybody.

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Freelance writers Dale and Sandy Larsen of Duluth, Minnesota, ask if Christianity is defensible amid these myths.

“Isn’t it a backward religion based on primitive ideas that have no place in today’s world? Isn’t the Bible hopelessly out of date? And yet Christians insist on forcing their morality on other people!” they intone.

“And worst of all, isn’t Christianity the cause of so much pain and suffering in the world—from destroying native cultures to suppressing women to causing the ecological crisis?

“How can anyone take seriously a religion that is promoted by sleazy televangelists and that once sponsored the Crusade?

“These are honest questions that deserve straightforward answers. Separating the beliefs and actions of some Christians from our Christianity can be difficult. We need to go below the surface, see how these problems developed historically and go back to the Bible for the full story.”

They believe that there is “element of truth” in the above-mentioned myths.

“Some Christians are arrogant. Some Christians have made their faith into an exclusive club. But God’s forgiveness always reaches out to be inclusive, touching everyone who acknowledges need and and responds in faith to his mercy,” the conclude. “Anyone who has been hurt by Christians’ arrogance will need to summon extra courage and open-mindedness in order to take another serious look at Christianity.”

We must examine our heart. Are we willing not only to look at Christian faith but to find it true and begin to live by it?

Let’s examine the heart of Christian belief. Let’s examine the credibility of Christianity.

Alex P. Vidal, who is now based in New York City, used to be the editor of two daily newspapers in Iloilo.—Ed

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