Election season—when the circus comes to town, complete with clowns, acrobats, and
a cast of characters that would make a “fantaserye” writer jealous.
Recently, we witnessed the filing of certificates of candidacy (COCs) for local and national positions, along with the certificates of nomination and acceptance (CONAs) for party-list
nominees aspiring to strut their stuff in Congress.
Thanks to the magic of social media, what should have been an informative event for
voters turned into something more like your family feud game show. From vloggers to
celebrities, plunderers, and the ever-present dynasties, it seems like the electorate has
front-row seats to a three-ring political circus.
Elections, for the Philippines, is that sacred moment where the sovereign people briefly
feel like they hold the power—like a kid holding a lollipop, but for a fleeting second,
before someone snatches it away. We get to choose who will supposedly represent our
voices, translate our dreams, and miraculously turn them into social change.
This week, I want to zoom in on a specific set of political performers: those who claim to
be the advocates of indigenous cultural communities and indigenous peoples
(ICCs/IPs).
Let’s be real—it’s election season, so anyone can claim anything, right? But one party-list group really grabbed my attention. No, not because of their lofty promises, but because their nominees are a pack of rabid red taggers, known for silencing anyone who dares advocate for indigenous peoples’ rights.
The name of this party-list group might ring a bell, as it ran before and, thankfully, lost. But, like
a bad sequel that nobody asked for, they’re back—this time with a shiny new name,
created by merging two disgruntled party-list groups, hoping the math will magically work in
their favor. You know, like combining two sinking ships to make one really unsinkable
One.
Their grand plan? To haul the failed agenda of the National Task Force to End Local
Communist Armed Conflict (NTF-ELCAC) into Congress and claim they’re representing
indigenous peoples.
Sure. Their lawyer-nominee, for instance, was once declared persona non grata or PNG in an ancestral domain matter for completely botching the free, prior and informed consent (FPIC) process. Yep, this is the guy who now wants to advocate for the same communities that kicked him out. Joining him is a duo of shameless individuals who once found themselves cited in contempt by Congress. Remember their glorious hunger strike? No? Maybe you only remember the memes because, well, they made more of an impact than their actual strike. And then there’s the lone lady nominee, infamous for her red-tagging antics, so much so that the highest court in the land had to tell her to shut it.
Just when you thought the cast couldn’t get more bizarre, the former boss of the lawyer-
turned-PNG also filed his COC for a Senate seat. Yes, this “big boss,” like his former
underling, claims to carry the torch for indigenous peoples. But, much like a flashlight without batteries, it’s hard to see what exactly he’s illuminating.
By the way, this big boss, right after the party-list group of his lawyer PNG lost, as a formalized way to showcase tantrums, issued a unilateral memorandum suspending the selection of the Indigenous Peoples Mandatory Representative (IPMRs) for failing to deliver seats for his party-list group.
At the outset, he should’ve known that he is barred from using government resources
and authority from politicking.
So here we are, folks—just another act in the endless political carnival. Grab your
popcorn, because it’s going to be a long and dramatic show.
