DOMS PAGLIAWAN

It baffles me that convicted criminals can run for public office and even secure high positions in government. It’s as if our watchdog agencies have turned a blind eye to this. When it comes to ordinary government workers, they’re quick to flex their muscles, but when powerful ex-cons throw their hats into the political ring, they become as timid as a mouse in a lion’s den. Something is seriously wrong with this picture.

I’ve seen it myself: low-level government employees being sacked for the smallest of infractions. Some poor clerk misplaces a document, and the next thing you know, they’re out of a job. Meanwhile, convicted politicians walk free, dust off their tailored suits, and run for office as if their criminal records are mere footnotes in their colorful lives. It’s almost like there’s a magic spell that wipes their slate clean the moment they file their candidacies, and suddenly, we’re all supposed to forget their dark pasts. But people can’t forget. And they refuse to.

Take a walk down the halls of power, and you’ll find these characters sitting comfortably, sipping their coffee, making decisions that affect the lives of millions. They talk about justice and integrity, but it’s hard to take them seriously when you know that they’ve been convicted of crimes far worse than jaywalking. I can’t help but wonder—what are these watchdogs doing? Are they too scared to bite when the prey is too big, or have they simply sold their loyalty to the highest bidder? Either way, the whole thing stinks, and the stench is unbearable.

I remember reading about how Civil Service rules are strict when it comes to morality and good conduct. I’ve heard stories of teachers who were suspended for minor offenses—some as trivial as being late too many times. Yet, convicted criminals are allowed to waltz into politics, smiling for the cameras, shaking hands, and making promises they have no intention of keeping. It’s ironic, isn’t it? Those who have betrayed the public trust are allowed to “serve” again, while honest people are left to fend for themselves. It’s like putting the fox in charge of the henhouse and acting surprised when there are no chickens left.

And what about the people? Oh, we’re not blameless in this mess. We’ve become so used to the circus of Philippine politics that we just shrug and say, “Eh, ganito na talaga.” But it shouldn’t be this way. We deserve better leaders than recycled politicians who treat public office like a family heirloom. It’s a bad joke, but no one’s laughing anymore, except maybe the convicted politicians themselves, who seem to be having the last laugh. Sometimes I wonder if they hold office just to mock us.

The Ombudsman and the Civil Service Commission should be the last line of defense, but they’ve become more like the referees who pretend not to see the foul. They’re quick to throw the whistle when it’s a small-time bureaucrat or an ordinary public servant, but when a big fish with political clout breaks the rules, they look the other way. It’s frustrating to watch. It’s like they’re playing a game, but only some of us are bound by the rules.

I wish I could say this was all just a bad dream, but it’s reality. The ex-convicts are out there, grinning and waving at us during election season, and many of us are still falling for their charm. We listen to their sweet promises, conveniently forgetting that they once broke the law and our trust. It’s as if we’re caught in an abusive relationship, forgiving them every time they screw us over. Meanwhile, the watchdogs sit in the corner, whimpering.

So here we are, stuck in a system where small-time public servants get the boot for the slightest mistake, while convicted criminals climb their way to the top. The imbalance is so ridiculous, it’s almost laughable—if only it weren’t so tragic. Maybe one day, we’ll wake up and demand better, from our leaders and ourselves. Until then, it looks like the ex-cons will continue to run the show, while the rest of us are left wondering what happened to justice.