It’s time we reclaim the Christmas we lost to corruption

As early as September, Filipinos look forward to the warm familiarity of Christmas. Lanterns lining the streets, carols echoing through malls, and Jose Mari Chan’s soft voice reminding us of hope. But Christmas 2025 feels painfully different. Instead of the usual excitement, the country is filled with anger, protests, and exhaustion. The soundtrack of this season isn’t the gentle line “Whenever I see girls and boys selling lanterns on the streets…” but the collective cry of a people tired of a government that keeps failing them.

These “ber” months arrive with yet another corruption scandal involving a department that mishandled billions. And while the public demanded answers, government officials and their children parade around the world on multicountry vacations, “study trips,” medical checkups, and content creation, all funded, directly or indirectly, by taxpayers. No shame, no restraint, no delicadeza.

Overpriced public projects, crippling traffic, rising inflation, and shrinking health budgets are not new. What is new is how shameless everything has become. The Philippines continues to be plundered while officials toss careless remarks, as if suffering were simply part of the Filipino identity. Prices rise. The peso falls. And the people are told, again, to endure. We are urged to be resilient even as the very institutions meant to protect us are the ones draining us dry.

Ordinary Filipinos cannot escape taxes: income, consumption, travel, and an endless list of “miscellaneous” fees. Yet it is these same Filipinos who must beg politicians for help when sickness strikes. Instead of a functioning public health system, we face a humiliating ritual: “Dear Mr./Ms. Politician, please help us pay our hospital bill.” Where is the promise of zero billing? Where is the logical explanation why the Philippine Health Insurance Corp. funds, already insufficient, were transferred to the national treasury? Public hospitals do not need political middlemen; they need beds, nurses, medicines, and dignity.

But dignity is exactly what is stripped from people every time a government official insists that P500 is enough for “noche buena.” A feast, they say. We are told to be grateful, adapt, and understand. Last year, then National Economic and Development Authority, now the Department of Economy, Planning and Development, even declared that if someone spends more than P64 per meal daily, they are no longer considered “food poor.”

The carol reminds us: “In every prayer and every song, the community unites.” In this season, we are united—united in frustration, in disbelief, in the exhaustion of being told to smile through misery. For every scandal we uncover, how many more remain hidden? Why is it so difficult to jail even one high-ranking official? We are constantly reminded that wars exist, that climate change affects everyone, and traffic is global, as if these excuses are enough to hide the rot. As if other countries endure this magnitude of corruption and are simply quiet about it; as if we should accept suffering as destiny.

Enough. This is a system that bleeds the nation year after year, recycling corruption until it feels permanent. In Chan’s familiar refrain, we are urged: “Let’s light our Christmas trees for a bright tomorrow, where nations are at peace.” What once felt sentimental now sounds like a demand. A reminder that peace and prosperity cannot grow in a nation where leaders refuse accountability.

Filipinos deserve more than resilience. We deserve governance that does not treat public money as private property. We deserve officials who do not mock our hunger. We deserve a Christmas season not overshadowed by theft, denial, and insult.