IN her attempt to expedite the presentation of documentary evidence in the impeachment trial of Vice President Sara Duterte, private prosecutor Lorna Kapunan jokingly remarked that she had yet to watch Odyssey in theaters. She nevertheless offered to rely on the defense’s marked documents, reasoning that, theoretically, both sides were working from the same records.
That amusing exchange led me to think about something more serious. Friends have been talking about how the movie Odyssey has brought Homer’s ancient epic into our national consciousness. Beyond the spectacle and personalities, the story speaks of loyalty, justice, deception, perseverance, and the longing for home.
And then there is Penelope. I had almost forgotten her. When I first read Homer’s Odyssey in high school, Odysseus naturally occupied center stage. But Penelope’s story may actually be more relevant to Filipinos today.
While Odysseus was away and presumed dead, Penelope was left behind in Ithaca. A group of persistent and opportunistic suitors descended upon her, each seeking to marry her and ultimately gain the power and privileges attached to her household. They pressured her relentlessly, consumed her resources, and behaved as though the throne was theirs for the taking.
Penelope refused to surrender. She devised a strategy. She promised to choose a husband after completing a burial shroud for Odysseus’ father. She would weave during the day and secretly undo her work at night. She bought time. More importantly, she refused to be manipulated into making a decision simply because everyone around her demanded one.
Perhaps that is precisely what Filipinos need to learn today. We have become a nation perpetually waiting for a political savior. Every election, another candidate appears promising to restore the country, crush corruption, punish the enemies of the people, or make the Philippines great again. We are repeatedly encouraged to believe that one person, with the right surname, political machinery, money, social-media army, or populist rhetoric can solve problems that generations of leaders have failed to address. And many Filipinos fall for it.
Our political suitors have become increasingly sophisticated. They no longer need to knock on every door. Their messages can be delivered directly into our phones. Troll farms and paid influencers can manufacture outrage, popularity, enemies, and even consensus disguised as public opinion. Political commentators can conveniently become campaign surrogates while maintaining the appearance of objectivity. And because the electorate is increasingly polarized, facts have become secondary to loyalty.
This is where the Penelope analogy becomes disturbingly relevant. Penelope was surrounded by suitors who wanted something from her. So are we, especially during election season. Our political suitors want our votes, loyalty, attention, and sometimes unquestioning obedience. They promise change but often preserve the very system that keeps them in power. Some reinvent themselves every election season. Still others rely on political machinery, family names, money, patronage, or carefully constructed online personas.
Yet the voter is not powerless. Penelope did not defeat her suitors by matching their deceit with greater deceit. She did not surrender her judgment simply because she was pressured. She waited, planned, and strategized. And when the time came, the suitors were removed.
I am certainly not suggesting that we literally eliminate corrupt politicians in the manner in which Odysseus dealt with the suitors. The democratic equivalent is much simpler: Do not vote for them. One priest once told his congregation: ‘Take the money, but vote your conscience.’ Whether one agrees with that advice or not, the larger principle is that we should never surrender our judgment simply because a politician gives us something. An ayuda lasts for a day or a week. The consequences of electing the wrong leader can last for years. This is where our collective hypocrisy becomes uncomfortable.
We complain about corruption while allowing politicians to cultivate dependence. We condemn political dynasties while repeatedly electing the same families. We criticize incompetence but reward politicians who entertain us.
We cannot have it both ways. The politician who buys a vote and the voter who sells it participate in the same transaction. The difference is that the politician keeps the office for several years while the voter is left with the consequences. That is why Penelope’s patience may be more instructive than Odysseus’ heroism.
We should stop looking for saviors and start looking for servants. We should stop asking who is popular and start asking who is trustworthy. Most of all, we should stop confusing loyalty to a politician with loyalty to the country. The political class has mastered the art of keeping us distracted. While we argue about which politician is more corrupt, institutions remain weak. While social-media armies battle over who is ‘DDS,’ ‘Dilawan,’ ‘Marcos loyalist,’ ‘anti-Marcos,’ or whatever label is fashionable, politicians continue negotiating positions, alliances, contracts, appointments, and political futures.
The most dangerous political weapon today is the ability to convince ordinary citizens that their fellow citizens are the enemy. Once we are divided, we become easier to manipulate. Once we are angry, we become easier to control. Once we become obsessed with personalities, we stop examining institutions. Perhaps it is time we learned to say no, just as Penelope did. Waiting is not the same as doing nothing. We need the patience to build institutions, educate voters, hold officials accountable, and defend the truth even when it is inconvenient to our political camp. National transformation does not happen in one election cycle.
As a follower of Jesus, I have also learned another kind of patience that comes from knowing that I am not ultimately in control. Whenever I become anxious about the Philippines and its political future, I return to Philippians 4:4-8. Believers often remember verse 6: ‘Do not be anxious about anything…’ But Paul did not begin there. He began with: ‘Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!’
Paul was writing from prison. He was not rejoicing because everything was going well. He was rejoicing because his confidence did not depend on his circumstances. Believers do not rejoice because corruption is acceptable or injustice is tolerable. We rejoice because our ultimate hope is not in a politician, political party, or particular vision of the Philippines. Our hope is in God.
Paul continues: ‘Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.’ That is difficult advice amid political warfare. When politicians lie, cheat, and steal, we want revenge. But Christian faith calls us to remain faithful without becoming consumed by hatred. Gentleness does not mean weakness or silence. It means refusing to believe that the fate of the country rests entirely on our ability to control every political outcome. Jesus said: ‘In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.’ (John 16:33).
That may be the greatest antidote to political anxiety. The Philippines will have another political crisis, another scandal, another political dynasty, another army of trolls telling us whom to hate, and another survey telling us who is supposedly unbeatable. As the 2028 elections approach, another politician will appear promising salvation, prosperity, revenge, or some combination of all three. Another generation of Filipinos will be tempted to believe them.
Perhaps it is time we became more like Penelope, not passive or naive, but patient, discerning, strategic, and faithful. Penelope waited for Odysseus because she believed he would return. Christians wait for something far greater. We wait for Christ.
That perspective changes everything. We can work for our country without pretending that we can save it ourselves. We can fight corruption without becoming corrupt. We can defend truth without surrendering compassion. We can oppose political abuse without allowing anger to consume us.
The Philippines does not need another political messiah. It needs citizens who understand that politicians are servants, not saviors. The suitors will keep coming, with money, machinery, slogans, surveys, influencers, trolls, promises, enemies, and manufactured narratives.
Let us listen carefully and examine their records. Let us test their promises and refuse to be rushed. And when the time comes, let us exercise the one power no political suitor should ever take from us: our vote. The suitors will keep coming in droves. Let us simply become wise enough not to marry them.
Siegfred has a diversified set of education and experiences which has made him a game changer and a servant leader in organizations. His professional degrees came from the United States Military Academy at West Point in New York, Ateneo Law School, and University of Southern California, Los Angeles, USA. His corporate experiences include stints as general counsel for the country’s flag carrier, a food exporter with manufacturing plants in Davao and in Laguna, and a sports distributor company. Siegfred is a former soldier and a lawyer by profession, a teacher and inspirational speaker by passion, and a book author and a writer with a mission.