Governance as performance
For many Filipinos, voting in elections is the beginning and end of their civic engagement. Beyond casting their ballots, most citizens have little idea of what to expect from those in government—except perhaps the personal favors or benefits they might receive from them.
Public knowledge of political structures and processes remains minimal, learned mainly by rote in the perfunctory lessons in civics taught at school. Few are familiar with how government functions at local, national, and global levels. Still fewer understand the specific mandates of agencies, the legislative process, or how laws are implemented, interpreted, or challenged.
They may know their officials by name, but they often have only a vague idea of what these officials are actually supposed to do. More often than not, they see themselves as passive recipients of patronage, rather than as citizens with the right—and the power—to hold public officials accountable.
This is what happens when political literacy is low. Citizens become alienated from governance. They see politics as a dirty game, monopolized by the wealthy, the powerful, and the popular. In the absence of meaningful alternatives, the prevailing sentiment is to accept the immediate benefits offered by political leaders. It’s our money anyway, they would often say.
That is, until a tipping point is reached—when people begin to feel that their leaders have breached the bounds of what is customarily permissible. At that moment, they begin to look for ways to replace them, whether through elections or through direct mass action.
But where that tipping point lies is not fixed. It is negotiated. Politicians who use their positions to enrich themselves often extend their political life by demonstrating generosity—by sharing the spoils of power with the less privileged. This is expected not just during campaign periods but throughout their tenure.
Where political literacy is low, assessments of government performance are not based on a clear comparison between official duties and real-world outcomes. Instead, they are shaped by optics and general perceptions of dependability. It’s interesting that the word “performance” is now used in both its administrative and stage sense. Governance is a complex affair; optics (the management of impression) is a way to simplify that complexity and shape public sentiment.
Take the example of the P20-per-kilo rice project. Rather than inspire confidence, it came off as a campaign gimmick—its timing, right before the elections, exposing its short-term political intent rather than affirm its poverty-alleviating promise.
In contrast, the unexpected post-midterm move by President Marcos Jr. to demand the courtesy resignation of all Cabinet secretaries and heads of major agencies is a dramatic effort to reset the public narrative. Following an election where his administration’s senatorial candidates underperformed, Marcos seems intent on boldly reasserting himself—no longer the passive leader frequently compared unfavorably to his aggressive predecessor, but a president bent on leaving an enduring legacy.
It is, in a sense, a classic case of “not wasting a good crisis.” While often misattributed to Winston Churchill, the phrase was in fact coined by Rahm Emanuel, chief of staff to former United States president Barack Obama: “It’s an opportunity to do things you think you could not do before.” Marcos’ move is a political recalibration, not of policy, but of image and authority.
While the recent midterms were not a catastrophic loss, they revealed something deeper: the administration’s weak grip on local political machinery. Presumed allies did little to ensure the victory of his candidates. This reality reflects the fragmented and transactional nature of Philippine local politics, where entrenched families often hedge their bets—supporting both administration-backed and opposition candidates depending on who offers resources or seems likely to win.
To blame Cabinet members for these outcomes is a stretch. Local politics operate on their own logic. But Cabinet appointments are meant to be filled by individuals who reflect and implement the president’s vision. In theory, a president with a clear program would prefer appointees with both competence and unblemished integrity. In practice, appointments are as often shaped by the need to repay political debts and accommodate powerful interests. Agencies with enormous regulatory powers are particularly burdened by this.
In the absence of a politically literate citizenry that can measure governance against its legal and ethical benchmarks, what remains is spectacle—resignations, resets, and optics. Whether such gestures will work depends less on the president’s performance than on the public’s capacity to see through it.
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