Gising ... Gising!

 

In the realm of Philippine politics, the upcoming 2028 presidential elections have been dubbed the "2028 Reboot," a term that cleverly encapsulates the cyclical nature of electoral processes in the country. 

As Vice President Sara Duterte prepares to hit the proverbial "New Game" button, citizens are still grappling with their 2026 electric bills, illustrating a disconcerting disconnect between political ambition and everyday realities. 

This juxtaposition serves as a reminder that while Filipinos are navigating their current challenges, politicians are already planning for future victories. 

The phrase “the future is now” takes on an ironic twist here; it suggests that in Philippine politics, time is merely an illusion—a long commercial break before the next season begins.

The phenomenon of "electoral ulit-ulit," or repetition, characterizes Filipino voting behavior as one that seemingly lacks historical awareness. 

Critics argue that voters possess a collective memory akin to that of a goldfish—easily distracted by catchy jingles and monetary incentives masquerading as transportation allowances. 

This theory invites scrutiny; rather than mere folly, this behavior can be reframed as extreme optimism. 

Despite past disappointments such as water cannons during protests or fleeting moments of unity akin to short-lived shopping deals, voters continue to embrace new candidates with fervor and hope. 

The upcoming campaign slogan “The Return of the Daughter!” mirrors an endless teleserye where shocking twists seem predictable yet elicit gasps from audiences who have witnessed every plot turn.

Moreover, this election cycle highlights an ongoing debate between perceived stupidity and high-concept hope among voters. 

Many citizens approach politicians with naiveté despite glaring controversies surrounding their track records—ranging from impeachment threats to elusive financial documents. 

Voters often interpret these red flags through rose-colored lenses: viewing aggressive rhetoric as authenticity or secretive funds as surprise parties for the nation suggests a refusal to confront uncomfortable truths about political leadership.

The criteria for selecting candidates increasingly resemble those found in entertainment rather than governance; charisma often trumps policy knowledge in voter preferences. 

In this context, platforms become mere stages for performances rather than outlines of governance strategies.

 Candidates who excel at social media antics or viral dance challenges overshadow those capable of articulating complex economic policies like tax reform—an unfortunate reality reflecting society's prioritization of spectacle over substance.

Finally, selective amnesia emerges as perhaps the most powerful tool wielded by Filipino voters—a chameleon-like ability to erase historical grievances and rebrand familiar figures into new roles every election cycle. 

This phenomenon creates fertile ground for manipulation: past misdeeds fade away under strategic marketing campaigns promising change and progress. 

As we approach 2028 with trepidation mixed with excitement, it becomes evident that history teaches us little when it comes to electoral cycles; instead, it appears we are destined for another round in this elaborate performance art known as Philippine politics.