Václav Havel offers us a disturbing way of looking at societies that have grown accustomed to the distance between what institutions say and what reality shows. The Czech playwright and dissident, who was imprisoned for his opposition to communist rule before becoming president of Czechoslovakia, developed this analysis in his 1978 essay "The Power of the Powerless," written in the context of a post-totalitarian state where ideology had become ritual. The problem is not simply that governments or politicians sometimes lie. It is more troubling than that: people can know that something is untrue and yet continue to behave as though it were true because doing so is convenient, profitable, politically useful, or simply safer.

That is what Havel meant by "living within a lie."

The idea resonates powerfully in the Philippines today, particularly in two controversies that at first appear unrelated: the flood control scandal that surfaced in 2025, in which legislative inquiries and audit findings pointed to billions of pesos in flood control appropriations whose completed works could not be verified on the ground, and the impeachment proceedings involving Vice-President Sara Duterte, who was impeached by the House of Representatives in February 2025.

The Flood Control Scandal

The flood control controversy is perhaps the more literal illustration.

Money is appropriated for a project. Official documents indicate that the project exists. Funds are released. Completion is certified. Accomplishment reports are filed.

And then the rain comes.

Communities still flood. People remain exposed to the very danger the project was supposed to address. The supposed infrastructure may be nonexistent, substandard, or simply half finished.

The deeper problem, therefore, is not merely whether a document was falsified or money was stolen. It is the institutional fiction that public money has been transformed into public protection when reality tells us otherwise.

That distinction matters. Individual corruption is serious enough. But when engineers, bureaucrats, contractors, politicians, and agencies can each perform their respective roles while the entire process produces something that reality disproves, corruption has ceased to be merely an individual act. It has become institutionalized.

This is precisely where Havel becomes relevant. The question is no longer simply, "Who stole the money?" It is also, "How did an entire chain of people become capable of behaving as though nothing was wrong?"

That is a question of institutional integrity. And it is also a question of civic responsibility. Public institutions do not operate in a vacuum. They are sustained by people who either insist upon standards or accommodate their erosion. A society that repeatedly tolerates discrepancies between official claims and lived reality eventually makes dishonesty part of the normal functioning of government.

The flood control scandal should therefore become more than another look into corruption. It should force us to reconsider what we expect from government: not merely expenditure, documentation, and compliance, but results that can withstand the test of reality.

The Impeachment

The impeachment of Vice-President Sara Duterte presents a different Havelian challenge, because here the truth itself is politically contested.

This is where balance is essential. Havel's concept cannot be used to prejudge the Vice-President's guilt or innocence. Impeachment is a constitutional process, and its legitimacy depends upon evidence, due process, and fidelity to the Constitution. The process has itself been contested terrain: questions over the Senate's handling of the articles of impeachment reached the Supreme Court, underscoring how procedural choices can shape the outcome as much as the evidence.

But precisely because impeachment is politically charged, it provides an important test of whether we are capable of living within truth rather than within political allegiance.

If one supports impeachment simply because one dislikes Sara Duterte, that is not a commitment to truth. If one opposes it simply because one supports her, that is equally problematic. If Congress acts according to political convenience rather than evidence, institutional integrity suffers. If the Senate acquits or convicts according to political alliances rather than the merits of the case, the constitutional process becomes subordinate to political calculus.

The proper standard is therefore demanding but simple: the evidence must matter more than the political tribe.

The 1987 Philippine Constitution must govern. Due process must be respected. And the outcome must follow the evidence rather than precede it.

The Havelian question is not ultimately whether Sara Duterte wins or loses. It is whether Philippine institutions can demonstrate that truth and law are capable of prevailing over political convenience.

This brings the two controversies together. In the flood control scandal, institutions may have certified something that reality disproves. In the impeachment, political interests may tempt people to decide what reality means before the evidence has been fully examined.

Substituting Convenience for Truth

In both cases, the danger is the same: the substitution of convenience for truth. And that habit does not stop at corruption or impeachment.

We sometimes speak of the economy as having "sound fundamentals." There is truth in that. But sound macroeconomic fundamentals do not automatically mean satisfactory economic performance. Stability can coexist with weak investment, inadequate productivity, disappointing growth, and incomes that do not improve sufficiently for ordinary Filipinos.

The problem begins when a partial truth is used to obscure a larger one.

We do something similar in politics when we tell ourselves that the next election will solve the country's problems. Elections matter enormously, but changing political personalities does not necessarily change the incentives created by money, patronage, dynasties, and misinformation.

Nor should we reduce democracy to the freedom to speak and vote. Those freedoms are fundamental. But democracy also requires institutions capable of making power accountable and ensuring that public authority is exercised within the law.

And we should be cautious about treating every institutional problem as something that can be solved by another law, another program, another liberalization, or another constitutional amendment. Reforms matter, but reforms cannot substitute for institutional integrity. Good policies implemented through weak institutions can produce weak results.

Governance is therefore not merely a political concern. It is an economic variable, a democratic variable, and, ultimately, a measure of whether a society is capable of governing itself honestly.

Cynicism, the Greatest Danger

Yet perhaps the greatest danger is cynicism.

We say that all politicians are corrupt, that everybody steals, that nothing will change, and that this is simply how Philippine politics works. Such cynicism sounds realistic, but it can become another way of accommodating the system. If everyone is corrupt, then nobody is responsible. If nothing can change, then there is no reason to resist.

Havel's answer was different. "Living within truth" begins with the refusal to participate in falsehood simply because participation is easier.

The Filipino version of Havel's greengrocer — the shopkeeper in "The Power of the Powerless" who displays the regime slogan not out of conviction but to signal compliance — may not put a political slogan in his window. He may instead vote for a politician he knows is corrupt because he receives something in return. He may defend a politician because that politician belongs to his political camp. He may circulate misinformation because it confirms what he already believes. He may complain about political dynasties while continuing to vote for them.

These choices may seem small. Collectively, however, they help sustain the system we complain about.

Recovering Personal Responsibility

This is why the way out cannot depend entirely on another election, another administration, or another reform package. It must also involve the recovery of personal responsibility.

The journalist must be willing to challenge propaganda. The economist must be willing to present uncomfortable numbers. The civil servant must refuse to certify what is untrue. The businessman must refuse corruption. The voter must refuse to sell his vote. The citizen must be willing to verify before believing and sharing.

These are acts of civic responsibility, but they are also acts of institutional renewal. Institutions become stronger when the people working within and around them refuse to normalize their corruption and weakness.

Perhaps this is Havel's most important lesson for the Philippines today.

We do not lack knowledge of what is wrong. We know that corruption exists. We know that public projects can be manipulated. We know that political loyalty can distort judgment. We know that misinformation can influence democratic choice. We know that economic stability is not the same as economic success. We know that reform cannot substitute for good governance.

The deeper problem is that we have become remarkably capable of living as though what we know to be wrong was normal.

That is living within the lie.

Refusing to Accommodate Wrong

The way out begins when truth becomes consequential again — when institutions are expected to tell the truth, when public officials are held accountable for it, and when citizens refuse to reward those who violate it.

The Philippines does not simply need better laws or better leaders. It needs a stronger civic ethic: a willingness to insist that facts matter, evidence matters, due process matters, public money matters, and institutional integrity matters.

Perhaps, therefore, the most important question before 2028 is not simply whom we will vote for. It is whether we are prepared to stop accommodating the things we already know are wrong.

What lies are we willing to stop living with?

The Philippines begins to change only when Filipinos stop accommodating the things they know are wrong.

Diwa C. Guinigundo is the former deputy governor for the Monetary and Economics Sector, the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas (BSP). He served the BSP for 41 years. In 2001-2003, he was alternate executive director at the International Monetary Fund in Washington, DC. He is the senior pastor of the Fullness of Christ International Ministries in Mandaluyong.