Why We Need to Stay Angry

By Vincent R. Pozon

I recently republished on Our Brew a scholarly article on corruption. While it had a prescription, it carried a bleak warning: when people believe corruption is universal, they surrender. They tell themselves “it’s okay, this is the way things are done here.” They do what defeated societies always do — normalize decay.

And when a people normalizes decay, dynasties become the default redeemers. "Di baleng korap, may nagagawa naman". The logic comes from fatigue: if everything rots, choose the rot that at least builds a road or two.

Choose the evil you can make your son’s godfather.

The article (below) argued that when citizens realize corruption is not as widespread as they think, they become more willing to act differently. They feel their small acts matter.

Corruption: When Norms Upstage the Law

Pointing out widespread corruption can normalize corrupt behavior by portraying it as unavoidable. In highly corrupt environments, messages like “everyone pays bribes” do not mobilize resistance — they induce fatalism.

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But we have lost that battle

Corruption is widespread. It is systemic. It is worse now — worse than during Marcos’s time. Every day uncovers new instances. The scale is now industrial.

“The corrupt is not someone who comes by and visits. He is there everyday.”

Former socioeconomic planning secretary Romulo Neri’s “moderate your greed,” and President Marcos Jr.’s “mahiya naman kayo” are confessions: corruption cannot be eradicated; only the volume can be adjusted.

But wait – something new is happening.

We are angrier now.

Veteran journalist Danny Buenafe told me something only someone who has seen everything can say:

“As a journalist for more than four decades, never have I seen this kind of public outrage.”

While the old may succumb to calls for calm and distraction, the new factor is the young.

The young are marching almost every day. They have injected the fight into everything: shirt designs, chants in basketball games, the way they talk online.

Their anger is live, pulsating.

Social media overflows with videos of the floods’ destructive power, taken by those trapped on rooftops, clinging to whatever was left of home and safety.

The young saw it, suffered it, recorded it.

They will not forget the connection: the collapsed dikes, the submerged streets, the families stranded on roofs — all because flood control funds were siphoned into mansions, Rolls Royces and Rolexes, yachts, aircraft, and jewelry.

Their anger has toppled governments elsewhere: in Nepal, where Gen Z protests forced the resignation of the prime minister; and in Madagascar, where youth-led demonstrations pushed out a president.

This rising generation has already shifted the nation’s pulse — rebuking frivolous candidates, shaping the last election, and taking to the streets with a throbbing fury.

The young — as we once did in our time — can carry this fight forward.

That instinct to look away is the oldest ally of the corrupt. Distraction is their oxygen. They count on our abbreviated attention spans, on our readiness to move on to the next show, the next scandal, the next trending story.

If those of us in communication have a duty at all, it is this: to give the young legs in media — to let their indignation travel farther than their marches ever can; to let their chants enter homes, feeds, timelines, and into in the nation’s ear.

There is only one topic now: "Ikulong na yan, mga kurakot"

Until hundreds of handcuffs are clicked, no other subject deserves oxygen. To stay angry is not extremism; it is self-defense. It is the only way to prevent the ending we know too well — outrage blunted, hearings forgotten, the guilty laughing.

Anger is the last functioning instrument available to Filipinos who love their country.

To stay angry is to refuse the drift toward resignation.