The recent call for courtesy resignations from Cabinet secretaries comes in the wake of a sobering reality check: the administration was soundly rejected in the midterm elections, especially in the senatorial and local races. The people have spoken—not through slogans or rallies, but through the ballot. And their message is simple: *we do not feel you.*

This is more than political optics; it is a crisis of relevance. For millions of Filipinos, government feels absent. It is not felt at the dinner table, not seen in the daily commute, not experienced in the neighborhoods. And when government is invisible, it becomes irrelevant. Why would citizens support something that offers them so little in return?

The only way to rebuild trust is to make government matter again—in tangible, daily ways. The delivery of basic services must be consistent and affordable. Electricity, water, public transportation—these are not luxuries but necessities. They should be reliable and priced with fairness, not favoring oligarchic interests.

Filipinos are not asking for miracles. They are asking that their daily burdens be acknowledged and lightened. Traffic chaos, particularly along thoroughfares like EDSA, is not just an inconvenience—it is an indictment of inaction. Public transportation in both urban centers and outlying roads remains grossly inadequate. Commuters endure the system because they have no choice. Government must offer them one.

Moreover, the government must ease the process of obtaining everyday permits—from police and NBI clearances to business and employment documentation. Partnering with private diagnostic centers to offer free or subsidized medical clearances, especially for Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs), is one clear step in the right direction. No one should be financially punished just to seek honest work. The Departments of Health, Migrant Workers, and Labor must collaborate—not in name, but in actual coordinated action.

The employment crisis is urgent. Each year, half a million new graduates join a workforce with too few opportunities. If the economy cannot absorb them, it must empower them. Convene the country’s top industrialists. Work with banking institutions to open up loan facilities for startups—not just in tech, but especially in agriculture and essential services. Let the youth build the future they are being denied.

Security, too, remains a cornerstone of functional governance. Our foreign and defense policy may be professionalized, but our domestic security institutions lag behind. A modern police force must be responsive, community-oriented, and incorruptible. Local governments should be incentivized to expand citizen-police bayanihan efforts. Such initiatives already exist, but they require scale and state backing to truly protect our communities.

Criminality, especially the drug trade, still festers. What’s needed is not a return to violent theatrics, but focused, high-level dismantling of the syndicates that continue to poison our neighborhoods. The creation of a dedicated anti-drug task force, targeting the heads of these criminal enterprises—their financiers, chemists, and protectors—must be a top priority. Everyone knows who they are. What is lacking is not intelligence, but will. That failure lies not with street-level officers, but with a leadership unwilling to sacrifice comfort for justice. If criminal networks reach into the political class itself, then let accountability reach just as far. Let the anvil fall where it must.

There are three years left. That is not a long time—but it is long enough to define a legacy. And that legacy should not be about protecting a dynasty or clearing the path for another successor. It should be about doing what is just, right, and necessary—because the nation deserves no less. Public service is not about preserving privilege; it is about restoring dignity to the people from whom all power ultimately comes.

That restoration must begin with the prices of basic goods. It is no secret that food, especially rice, remains unaffordable for many. Even the President has admitted that government could do more. Yet no meaningful action has followed—just unfulfilled promises of ₱20 per kilo rice. The Secretary of Agriculture, backed by immense resources and authority, has not acted decisively. Worse, the rice cartel remains untouched. Who benefits from this paralysis? Not the farmers. Not the poor. Only entrenched middlemen and economic predators.

The Department of Trade and Industry must also answer for its failure to curb exploitative practices among industrialists and traders. While no one expects prices to plummet overnight, Filipinos do expect the government to fight on their behalf. They expect accountability, not platitudes. Yet those who manipulate markets face, at worst, public scolding—never sanctions. The result is consumer exploitation without consequence.

The erosion of faith in government stems not from ideology but from lived experience. When government does not work for the people, the people withdraw from government. This is not just a political problem—it is a democratic emergency.

But there is still time to change course. The remaining years of this administration must not be wasted in defensive politics or ceremonial leadership. They must be used to build something lasting, something redemptive. Something worthy of the history that brought this name to power—and of the future that now hangs in the balance.

History is watching. So is the nation.