If our leaders are as brilliant and capable as their supporters claim, why does the Philippines remain mired in poverty, hunger, and injustice?

This question haunted me during yet another rewatch of Queen Seondeok, my all-time favorite K-drama. In Episode 39, Princess Deokman confronts Lady Mishil:

“You’re blessed with wisdom. Your acumen is versatile as it is remarkable. Your behavior and leadership are all second to none. Then, why did Silla of the post-King Jin Heung era fail to develop in any way? When a country is blessed with a remarkable leader, should it not enjoy development as well?”

It hit me—how can greatness be claimed in the absence of progress? We’ve been sold the myth of the “brilliant leader” too many times. Leaders praised as strategic, visionary, even reformist—yet the people remain poor, the systems broken, the nation stagnant.

The answer, as Queen Seondeok reveals, is that brilliance alone doesn’t make one rightful. Mishil led for herself, not for Silla. Her cunning secured power—but not prosperity. Sound familiar?

The myth of the great leader

Supporters will argue, “We had great presidents. Visionaries. Reformers.” But if that were true, then where is the progress?

Ferdinand Marcos Sr. declared a “New Society” and promised discipline—but left behind a country drowning in debt and human rights violations. Gloria Macapagal Arroyo claimed to be an economist, yet presided over massive corruption scandals. Rodrigo Duterte said he would end crime in six months, yet left behind a bloody drug war and thousands of grieving families. And then, we went back to yet another Ferdinand Marcos—but this time, the junior. 

A truly competent and honest leader doesn’t just survive in power—they uplift lives. They build systems that benefit all, especially the most vulnerable. And yet, here we are, decades later, asking the same questions, suffering the same hardships.

The convenient blame on the people

Instead, blame is redirected—toward the people.

“They’re lazy.”
“They lack discipline.”
“They deserve this government.”

This narrative is everywhere—in the news, on social media, in daily conversations. It’s easier to shame the working poor than confront the structures that keep them poor.

But look around. The tricycle driver working from dawn to dusk to bring home a few hundred pesos. The mother juggling two jobs while raising three children. The student walking kilometers to attend school.  Are these people lazy?

Blaming the people is a tactic. It shifts focus away from those who make the rules, hoard the wealth, and sell out our future to foreign companies and local elites. 

Brilliance in the service of the few

Policy after policy, eviction after eviction, our leaders show their allegiance. 

In the Cordillera, large-scale mining companies backed by the state displace indigenous communities in the name of “progress.” In urban poor areas, families are evicted from their homes while condominiums rise for the wealthy. And in Makati, a woman was seen crawling out of a drainage hole—an inhumane place to call home. 

These are not random outcomes—they are the result of leadership decisions made to favor the powerful few.

Some of our leaders are intelligent. But their brilliance is weaponized—not to serve the nation, but to entrench the elite. Others aren’t even competent, yet climb through name recall, dynasties, and manufactured appeal.

Lady Mishil, too, was brilliant—but never legitimate. Her intelligence upheld the status quo. That’s the danger of the Mishil Complex: when intellect serves power, not people. When leadership dazzles, but does not deliver.

And today, we live it—not just watch it.

Who truly builds this nation?

Yet despite this, the people persist. 

When the government failed during the pandemic, communities set up community pantries. In rural areas, farmer cooperatives resist land conversion and continue to feed us. In poor neighborhoods, youth organize cleanups, education drives, and mutual aid.

The masses are not passive. They are the ones holding this country together. They do not lack discipline—they lack justice.

Real change won’t come from those who thrive in dysfunction. It will come from those brave enough to ask, like Deokman, “Why are we not progressing?”—and refuse the easy answers.

The people are the leaders we’ve been waiting for

This is the heart of the Mishil Complex: the illusion of competence that masks self-interest. Leadership that looks impressive, yet leaves people behind.

It’s time we stop waiting for saviors in barong or military uniform. The real leaders are not in palaces or halls of Congress. They’re in factories, classrooms, farms, and communities. They are the ones who serve, not rule.

And history—fictional and real—shows us this: when the people stop enduring, they start reclaiming.

The question now isn’t whether the people are ready. They always have been. The question is whether the system is ready for them. (RTS, RVO)