Caecus

Chapter 7: The Price of False Promises

Lucas stared at the television screen, his face bathed in the flickering light of the latest *State of the Nation Address*. President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. stood at the podium, his voice clear and confident as he outlined his administration’s supposed accomplishments and future plans. The crowd inside the hall applauded at every turn, but for Lucas, the applause rang hollow.

He watched in disbelief as the president spoke at length about economic growth, infrastructure projects, and even the banning of POGO (Philippine Offshore Gaming Operators), which had caused controversy in recent years due to their role in crime and corruption. The applause for the POGO ban was particularly loud, but to Lucas, it felt like theater. How could they cheer for something they themselves had allowed into the country in the first place?

But what bothered him the most was what *wasn’t* said. Not a single word about corruption. The biggest problem plaguing the country for decades, the root cause of its persistent poverty and inequality, had been left out of the president’s address entirely.

Lucas turned off the TV in frustration. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Not a single word,” he muttered to himself. “Not one mention of the thing that’s been dragging this country down for generations.”

His phone buzzed with a message from Jaime. *“Did you watch that?”*

Lucas texted back quickly: *“Yeah. More lies. More empty promises.”*

Jaime responded almost immediately: *“And the people will keep buying it, won’t they?”*

That was the painful truth, wasn’t it? Every election, every time a politician stood on a stage and made grand promises—lowering the price of rice to 20 pesos, ending corruption, defending the country’s territorial waters—people wanted to believe. They wanted to believe that this time, things would be different, that this time, their chosen leader would finally deliver on those promises. But it never happened.

Lucas couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal that had been gnawing at him for years. It wasn’t just the politicians who were to blame, though they deserved their fair share. It was also the people—the voters, his fellow Filipinos—who kept falling for the same tricks, election after election.

He thought back to one of the most absurd promises made during the campaign season: the pledge to lower the price of rice to 20 pesos per kilo. It was a pipe dream, a blatant lie designed to win votes. Anyone with even a basic understanding of economics knew it was impossible. Yet, people clung to it, desperate for a solution to their everyday struggles. Desperation made them believe in fantasies, and those fantasies only led to deeper disappointment.

Lucas paced around his small apartment, thinking about the conversations he had overheard during the last election cycle. “This candidate promised to fix the economy,” one man had said. “This one promised to ride a jetski to the West Philippine Sea,” another added, as if that would solve the complex territorial disputes with China.

What was it about these outrageous promises that made people ignore reality? Was it the deep-rooted poverty that made Filipinos so willing to cling to anything that offered hope, no matter how impossible? Or was it the charm of the politicians themselves, charismatic enough to make the public forget about their histories of corruption, scandals, and failures?

Lucas’s phone buzzed again. This time it was an old friend, Carlo, who had always defended the current administration.

*“You’re too cynical, Lucas. Marcos is doing his best. You saw how they applauded the POGO ban. He’s cleaning up the mess.”*

Lucas snorted. Cleaning up? They were the ones who let the mess in to begin with. The government had approved the entry of POGOs years ago, lured by promises of economic benefits. But what did it bring instead? Rising crime rates, human trafficking, money laundering. And now, after years of controversy, they wanted to act like banning it was a victory?

Lucas typed furiously in response: *“They applauded because they think people will forget they were the ones who invited the POGOs in. And corruption? He didn’t even mention it once. That’s the real mess.”*

He pressed send, his hands shaking with frustration. Carlo’s reply came swiftly, as expected: *“Corruption’s been around forever. Why focus on that? There are bigger things to deal with now.”*

Lucas wanted to scream. *“Bigger things? Corruption is the root of everything that’s wrong here! It’s why we’re stuck in poverty. It’s why we don’t get the services we deserve, despite the billions we pay in taxes. It’s why the rich keep getting richer and the poor stay poor. And they’re not even pretending to address it anymore.”*

He didn’t wait for a response. He knew Carlo would just shrug it off, like so many others did. People were so used to corruption that they didn’t even see it as a problem anymore. It had become part of the system, something they lived with, like a chronic illness they couldn’t cure but learned to tolerate.

Lucas sat down at his desk, pulling out a notebook where he had been drafting his next article. He was going to call it *“The Price of False Promises,”* a deep dive into the pattern of lies that politicians fed to the people and the damage it did to the country. He needed to write it, to show people that they couldn’t keep falling for the same tricks.

He started to type, his fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard.

*“Every election cycle, Filipinos are bombarded with promises. They’re promised cheaper goods, higher wages, better jobs, and an end to corruption. Yet, after every election, those promises evaporate, leaving the people with nothing but disappointment. We’ve seen it over and over again—leaders who come into power on a wave of hope and goodwill, only to turn their backs on the people who elected them. And we keep letting it happen.”*

He paused, thinking about the billions in taxes that Filipinos paid every year. Taxes that were supposed to go toward improving infrastructure, education, healthcare. Yet, what did they get? Barely functioning hospitals, crumbling roads, overcrowded schools. And the politicians who were supposed to fix these problems? They were too busy lining their pockets, using the people’s money for their own gain.

*“We pay billions in taxes, yet we settle for the bare minimum. Why? Why do we keep electing the same people who treat us like we’re not worth more than that? Why do we let them get away with it?”*

Lucas’s frustration grew as he typed. He knew the answer, but it pained him to admit it.

*“The truth is, Filipinos are easily fooled. We want to believe in something, so we latch onto the promises that sound the most appealing, even if they’re impossible. We vote for the candidate who says they’ll lower the price of rice to 20 pesos, even though we know it’s a lie. We vote for the candidate who promises to end corruption, even though they’ve been part of the corrupt system for decades. And when they fail to deliver, we act surprised.”*

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the blinking cursor on his screen. How many more elections would it take for people to see through the lies? How many more broken promises before the cycle ended?

He thought about what it would take to truly break free from the grip of corruption, of political dynasties, of false promises. It wasn’t going to be easy. It was going to require a massive shift in the way people thought about politics, in the way they held their leaders accountable.

Lucas typed the final lines of his article.

*“We deserve more than this. We deserve leaders who don’t just make empty promises, but who actually deliver. We deserve a government that spends our taxes wisely, that invests in our future. But that won’t happen unless we stop being so easily fooled. Unless we stop settling for the bare minimum. The power is in our hands—but we need to start using it wisely.”*

He hit save, feeling a mix of exhaustion and determination.

The television was still off, the room silent now. Outside, the city buzzed with the hum of daily life, people going about their business, many of them unaware—or maybe just unwilling to see—that they were part of a system that thrived on their complacency.

Lucas leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. He wasn’t giving up. Not yet. But he knew it was going to be a long, uphill battle to open the eyes of a nation that had grown accustomed to the lies.

The people of the Philippines were worth more than they were getting. They just needed to realize it for themselves.