Breaking Free from Hopelessness and Oppression

Hopelessness is not just an emotion. It is a strategy.

A nation that no longer dreams is a nation that no longer resists. When people lose the belief that things can change, they stop trying. They accept what is given, even when it is not enough. They settle because they think fighting back is pointless.

This is not accidental. It is intentional.

There are forces that benefit from keeping Filipinos trapped in a cycle of despair. The kind of despair that makes people too tired to care, too distracted to notice, and too resigned to demand better.

And so, the cycle continues.

The worst part? Many Filipinos don’t even see it happening.

Some go through life thinking this is just the way things are. That poverty, corruption, and injustice are part of the natural order. Others see it but have long accepted their place in it, convinced that resistance is futile. Then there are those who once believed in change but have been worn down by disappointment.

They all wake up to the same reality. The same struggles. The same heavy feeling of knowing nothing will ever change. And just like that, another day begins.

Like an old cup of coffee gone cold. Bitter, familiar, and impossible to throw away.

Because what else is there?

A System Designed to Keep You Tired

Filipinos are some of the hardest-working people in the world. They wake up before sunrise, commute for hours, and spend their days doing whatever job they can find. Any job that pays. Any job that keeps food on the table.

Yet, despite the effort, many remain stuck in the same place—struggling, surviving, but never really moving forward.

This isn’t because they lack ambition. The system is designed this way.

Wages stay low while prices climb higher. Workers are kept on short-term contracts, making it impossible to build stability. Small businesses struggle under taxes and red tape, while big corporations get incentives and bailouts. Even those who try to escape by going abroad send their earnings back home, fueling an economy that depends on their sacrifices.

It’s exhaustion disguised as resilience.

And when people are exhausted, they don’t have the energy to fight back. They don’t question why the rich keep getting richer while they barely scrape by. They don’t ask why public services fail them while politicians live in comfort.

Instead, they focus on surviving the next day.

Distractions, Misdirection, and the Illusion of Progress

A hopeless population is dangerous if it starts asking the right questions. That’s why they are kept busy, not just with work, but with distractions.

Entertainment floods every platform, feeding endless gossip, celebrity scandals, and mindless trends. News cycles focus on sensational crimes and feel-good stories, but rarely on systemic issues that demand real attention. Political debates turn into personal attacks, drowning out real discussions on policies and governance.

Meanwhile, Filipinos are fed the illusion of progress. A new road, a bridge, a train system—projects paraded as milestones while the deeper problems remain untouched. They are told the economy is improving, even when their daily expenses say otherwise. They are reminded to be grateful, to stop complaining, to believe that things are getting better.

And so, people continue watching, scrolling, and waiting.

Waiting for things to change. Waiting for a leader who won’t betray them. Waiting for a future they are starting to believe will never come.

Education That Teaches Obedience, Not Change

Filipinos are taught from a young age to follow the rules, not to question them. Schools focus on memorization, not critical thinking. Students are trained to repeat what’s in the textbooks, not to analyze whether those lessons still apply to the world they live in.

History is sanitized, with uncomfortable truths either softened or removed. Martial Law is remembered as a time of discipline rather than a period of fear and abuse. Corruption is presented as an unfortunate reality, but not as something that can be dismantled. Students graduate knowing how to take orders, but not how to challenge injustice.

Financial literacy, media awareness, and political education are barely given space in the curriculum. The subjects that could empower the next generation to break free from the cycle of hopelessness are either absent or downplayed.

The result? A population trained to comply rather than to lead. A workforce that follows directions but does not demand better wages. A citizenry that accepts poor governance because they were never taught that they deserve more.

A nation where obedience is rewarded, and resistance is punished.

Religion and the Politics of Surrender

Faith has always been a source of strength for Filipinos. It carries them through hardships, gives them hope, and unites communities. But in the wrong hands, faith can also be used to keep people in line.

They are told suffering is a test of faith. That poverty is their cross to bear. That justice will come—not in this life, but in the next. This kind of thinking numbs resistance. It turns real, systemic problems into personal struggles that must simply be endured.

Then there’s the unholy alliance between religion and politics. Some religious leaders use their influence to endorse candidates who do not serve the people. Politicians wrap themselves in religious imagery, painting themselves as chosen by God rather than servants of the nation. In return, religious institutions are protected, their power secured.

It is a cycle that keeps people passive. When faith is twisted into submission, it stops being a source of empowerment. It becomes another tool for control.

Pray. Obey. Endure.

And for those who ask too many questions? They are told to have more faith.

The Stigma of Aspiration

Filipinos who dare to want more are often met with ridicule.

“Ambisyoso.” “Feeling mayaman.” “Masyadong matalino.”

Aspiration is treated with suspicion, as if wanting a better life is an offense. Those who try to break free from the cycle are either mocked or warned to stay in their place. The culture teaches people to be content, to not aim too high, to just accept what is given.

Excellence is discouraged. Intellectuals are dismissed as arrogant. Innovators are told their ideas won’t work. Those who succeed are either envied or accused of corruption. Meanwhile, mediocrity is tolerated, even celebrated, as long as it does not threaten the status quo.

It is a mindset that keeps people from pushing beyond what they are told they can have. A way to silence the dreamers before they even begin.

And so, many stop trying. Not because they don’t have potential, but because they have been convinced that they shouldn’t.

A Government That Thrives on Hopelessness

A broken system stays in place because the people keeping it alive know one thing—hope is dangerous.

Hope inspires action. It makes people demand better wages, better policies, better leaders. It sparks movements, fuels revolutions, and topples those who refuse to change. This is why the system is designed to keep Filipinos tired, distracted, and resigned.

Politicians cycle through the same empty promises every election season, knowing that desperation will force people to gamble on them anyway. They keep poverty alive, not as a problem to solve, but as leverage to secure votes. They dangle temporary relief—ayuda, scholarships, free groceries—without ever fixing the root causes of suffering.

The result? Filipinos who feel like they have no choice but to vote for the same families, the same faces, the same names. Because “lahat naman sila pare-pareho.” Because “wala namang nagbabago.” Because “sino pa ba ang pagpipilian?”

And when people believe that no choice is worth making, those in power have already won.

Breaking the Cycle

Hopelessness is a weapon, but so is awareness.

The moment people recognize the system for what it is, the cracks begin to show. The moment they question why they are told to endure instead of demand, the cycle begins to weaken. Change does not come from waiting for the right politician, the right law, or the right moment. It comes when people stop accepting the lie that they are powerless.

But breaking free is not easy.

It means unlearning the lessons drilled into generations—that silence is safer than speaking up, that contentment is the same as peace, that resistance is useless. It means confronting uncomfortable truths, calling out leaders who benefit from despair, and refusing to play along with a system built to keep people tired.

It means fighting for something that might not be won in a single lifetime.

And that is the hardest part. Because many Filipinos have already seen hope die too many times. They have watched movements rise and fall, watched good leaders disappear, watched change slip through their fingers. The weight of history tells them to give up.

But history is also proof that resistance has never been futile. Every victory—no matter how small—was won by those who refused to accept what they were told. Every shift in power, every change in policy, every moment of progress happened because someone chose to fight back.

Yesterday, I was talking to a friend from Albay, someone with close ties to politicians. I told him that not all change has to be loud. Sometimes, even a whisper in the right ear can make a difference. If he could use his connections to plant the right ideas, to push the right conversations, who knows? Maybe that’s how the first steps toward something better begin.

The greatest threat to those who want to keep Filipinos hopeless is a people who refuse to be.

And that choice—to accept or to resist—begins today.