TRUTH AGAINST TRILLIONS
By Herman M. Lagon
The Trillion Peso March is not just a gathering. It is the nation’s conscience stepping out of its house and into the streets. People are marching not only against corruption but for something more fundamental—the right to the truth. Without truth, trust dies, and with it, the very idea of democracy.
We march because the math does not add up. Government boasts of almost ₱2 trillion pesos for flood control in the last decade, yet families in these areas, still wade through knee-deep water every rainy season. Reports show half the dikes are weak or missing, but on paper, projects look complete. This is corruption in its most dangerous form: a lie dressed as progress.
The consequences are not abstract. A collapsed dike means schoolchildren carrying bags over their heads through filthy water. A “ghost” project means a tricycle driver missing two days of income because the road is impassable. A thin hospital budget means a mother going home without medicine. Pope Francis put it bluntly: “Corruption kills, and the poor pay the price.”
Truth-telling becomes our strongest weapon. In school, dishonesty has consequences. A copied exam earns a failing grade. A ghosted class leads to a dropped subject. Academic integrity keeps learning alive. But in government, the rules flip upside down. Lies are rewarded. Thieves win reelection. Public office becomes a stage for flaunting Rolex watches, Hermes bags, and Rolls-Royce. This double standard is killing us.
Corruption thrives because silence protects it. Small lies—traffic bribes, fake receipts, vote-buying, a casual “pwede na”—seem harmless but pile up to open the door for bigger thefts. When we shrug and stay quiet, we become part of the crime. That is why truth-telling in daily life matters. Integrity in small things builds the courage to demand integrity in the big things.
In classrooms we say: “Show your solution. Cite your source. Where is your proof?” In government, we must demand the same: Show the receipts. Show the reports. Show the results. No proof, no pay. No results, no trust. You lie, cheat, and steal—then step down, face trial, and never expect our vote again.
September 21 reminds us of Martial Law, when truth was silenced and lies justified killings and injustice. That dark lesson lingers: when truth is buried, rights collapse. Today’s corruption may wear a suit instead of a uniform, but the danger is the same. Without truth, democracy withers, and ordinary citizens pay the price.
The Trillion Peso March is a collective refusal to stay silent. It is citizens grading leaders with failure when they cheat. It is workers, teachers, students, and parents—all in white—standing up to say: enough. Truth is not a slogan—it is the roof over a classroom, the medicine in a rural clinic, the dike that actually holds back the flood.
The challenge now is to live what we demand. Teachers must model honesty. Students must resist shortcuts. Citizens must refuse petty bribes. Communities must demand receipts and accountability. Because corruption is not defeated by outrage alone but by cultivating truth-telling as a habit of daily life.
Truth is our safeguard, our bulwark, our last line of defense. If we live it and speak it together, no flood of lies, no torrent of theft, can silence us again.|
