“After one mountain are mountains”

As winning candidates and their parties prepare to take the reins of leadership in their respective local governments this Monday, June 30, it is only natural for the usual kinks and complications of leadership transition and birth pains to occur.

I can only hope that our incoming leaders and their teams will not only be competent but also grounded enough (mature and less egotistical) to handle these birth pains of governance, or what we often call the adjustment period. As the saying goes, “After one mountain are mountains."

One among these mountains is a deep-seated insecurity that has seeped into our political life, likely a legacy of our colonial past. Expectations pile up and people rush to claim influence or rewards, often disregarding fair or institutional processes. New leaders need not feel too pressured in this situation if they are able to set up a fair, transparent, and inclusive system from the start. I’ve always believed that good people are rational and can understand reason, even when it seems to go against their interests.

Thus, the heavier responsibility rests with those in power. In Philippine politics, it is quite common for leaders to take criticisms personally, or to treat dissent as disloyalty or a personal affront. Capable civil servants are often sidelined out of sheer political insecurity. Personal differences and perceived slights frequently take precedence over shared policy goals, while the “marites” or our ever-present rumor-mongers only feed the flames of intrigue. Good programs of predecessors are too often undone, rather than being built upon or improved.

In many successful democracies, governance means coalition-building. But in the Philippines, it often means winner takes all.

Newly-elected officials would do well to reflect on this pattern in our political culture. And to the veterans in politics: you are far too seasoned to treat public office as an extension of your self-worth. It’s time to focus on leaving a legacy for future generations of Filipinos.

As regards the various sectors and supporters (including those in civil society) who helped bring these leaders into office, they too share a role in these birth pains of governance. People naturally flock to winners and gravitate toward those in power. The latter are invited to meetings and events where covenants are forged, pronouncements made, wish-lists presented, and favors quietly whispered.

Yet, too often, alliances unravel when expectations are unmet, or when one policy decision goes against a group's interests. The impulse to withdraw support, cut ties, or cry betrayal at the first sign of disagreement reflects the same personalistic politics we often criticize in our leaders. Just as we expect maturity from those in power, we must also practice it ourselves --holding on to our principles while remaining engaged in the conversation, even when it becomes difficult. Let’s examine how our expectations or actions can either support or disrupt the difficult work of transition.

Seasoned, perhaps even cynical, observers might dismiss my tone as naïve, and they’d be right. That naïveté is, in fact, a conscious choice. Why? Because in the face of inevitable change, generational shifts, and political turnover, clinging to skepticism alone won’t move us forward.

However naïve it may seem in our hardened political culture, hope remains essential for survival and growth. Progress does not come from resignation, but from a kind of controlled fission, or even rebellion --that stubborn belief that something better is possible.

After one mountain are mountains. And through each ascent and painful beginning, what matters is not who stands tallest, but how many are lifted.