I guess the reason for my relative restraint in this front is I’ve had a strong feeling that the current campaign against corruption will peter out, as did the pork barrel (Napoles) and Disbursement Acceleration Program (DAP) scandals. The unraveling of the so-called Independent Commission on Infrastructure following the resignation of Baguio Mayor Benjamin Mangalong as special adviser is, in my view, a flashing sign that we are, sadly, falling into the same old cycle from crime to outrage to paralysis to amnesia to crime.

Am I being cynical? No, because I think it is possible to eviscerate corruption, but only if people put themselves on the line. And so far, acts of “putting ourselves on the line,” beyond congressional investigations, beyond big marches, beyond the angry Facebook post or Rappler article, still have to reach a critical mass.

But are such defining acts possible? I think so, because a decade ago, I did put myself on the line in the battle against corruption, incompetence, and bad governance. And I judge what is possible by how far I myself am willing to go to achieve something in the public interest.

Some would interpret putting oneself today on the line as engaging in angry, indeed, non-peaceful street protests, as did the young people who battled the police in Mendiola on Sept 21. I respect their choice and admire their bravery in charging the police separating them from the object of their greatest desire, the Palace. In fact, those Gen Z street fighters sensed more than most what is needed at this juncture and had the courage to act on it. I might not myself attempt to burn down the House or Senate or Malacanang in anger (since I’m too old to be throwing Molotov Cocktails) but count me among those who would launch the legal defense and political movement to free those who do.

But there are other methods or acts that, done in concert, can accumulate into a critical mass of outrage and congeal into a massive moral barrier against corruption. Collective moral repudiation through acts that put ourselves on the line can be a very powerful force and can serve as the basis of a social contract on which to build a new political order. Of course, such acts do have costs, major ones, but nothing comes easy in life.

For me, that defining act was turning my back on the House of Representatives in March 2015, making the only resignation on principle in the history of the Congress of the Philippines. I did this to underline my opposition to President Benigno Aquino III’s coddling of corrupt individuals in his administration in brazen violation of his slogan kung walang korap, walang mahirap, his submission to the United States, and his refusal to accept command responsibility for the Mamasapano massacre. Since I could no longer support a man with whom my party was still aligned, I felt compelled to resign from Congress as a representative of that party.

I made this unconventional, unexpected gesture, to encourage similar radical acts from others at that time. No one else followed my lead. I did it partly to show our young people, in particular, that a politics of principle was possible, even at great cost to one’s career and material interests. My act was widely publicized, but did it make an impression on the youth of that period?

Was it a futile, utopian act, as some people contended? Was it a foolish gesture, as I was told by some of my colleagues in Congress, who could not understand why, when others were trying their best to get into Congress by means fair and foul, I was voluntarily stepping down.

All I can say is that, without the chain reaction of radical protests I had hoped to ignite, the DAP scandal and other crises of governance of the Aquino III administration faded into the shadows of non-accountability. But, whatever was its objective impact, it was one of the most meaningful acts of my life and I remain convinced that it was not in vain.

And all I can say now is that without similar acts of citizens putting themselves on the line, so that the sum of their radical actions, legal or illegal, peaceful or not so peaceful, results in a critical mass, an unstoppable wave, a sweeping process of irreversible reform, massive corruption will continue to plague our system.

I’ve done my bit for la causa. I expect others to do something similar if they’re really serious about eviscerating the cancer of corruption. Mayor Magalong’s resignation from the ICI certainly helps in getting the ball of civil resistance to accelerate, riding on the momentum provided by the Mendiola protesters. In this light, the flood control scandal might be a blessing in disguise, a historic opportunity presented to us to take the insurgent civil action need to finally break the cycle of corruption. Without a snowballing of such radical acts, we can rest assured the campaign on the latest mega-scandal will gradually sink into that pile of feces that has swallowed previous efforts to make corrupt officials accountable, from which will reemerge the same stinking monstrous faces, such as those of Jinggoy Estrada and Martin Romualdez.

(For those interested, the events in my fight against corruption recounted above can be found in my memoirs Global Battlefields: My Close Encounters with Dictatorship, Capital, Empire, and Love [Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2025], pp. 292-300.)

Walden Bello