In the long and winding conversation about education reform in the Philippines, much has been said about curriculum, pedagogy, infrastructure, and teacher training. Yet one of the most insidious roots of our educational woes remains largely untouched — our textbooks. These silent authorities in classrooms across the country continue to reproduce a version of history that undermines our identity and reinforces colonial narratives. If we are truly serious about meaningful refor

For centuries, cities have been designed with clear goals in mind: maximize productivity, fortify defense, facilitate trade, and ensure efficiency. The measures used to determine urban success have followed suit: gross domestic product (GDP), real estate values, traffic throughput, and infrastructure investments. These are quantifiable and easy to chart on a graph or balance sheet. Yet, they are remarkably poor at telling us how it feels to live in a city.

Let us begin not with the city, but with the purpose of the city. For everything that exists, exists for the sake of some good. The flute is made for music, the ship for sailing, and the city — the polis — is formed for the good life. Yet modern cities seem to forget this. We build for speed, for capital, for expansion — but rarely for virtue, rarely for happiness in its truest form. If we wish to build happier cities, we must ask not what makes a city large, rich, or efficie

Last month, the International Court of Justice delivered the most consequential legal text on climate change in history, and it could not have come at a more urgent moment for the Philippines. In a unanimous advisory opinion, the Court said in plain language that every State now bears binding obligations to cut greenhouse-gas emissions, help each other adapt, and repair the damage already done. These duties flow not only from the Paris Agreement and its predecessors but also

By the time I picked up a slim volume of "The Discourses of Epictetus," I had been smoking for a couple of years. Not socially. Not occasionally. I smoked in the way that defines identity — the kind of smoker who doesn’t ask if a break is coming but when. The pack-a-day kind. The stress, the habit, the illusion of control. Then, Epictetus, a crippled Greek slave-turned-philosopher, challenged everything I thought I was in control of.

Every year, another alarming statistic forces Filipinos to confront a troubling truth: HIV infections in the country are skyrocketing. The Philippines is now grappling with one of the fastest-growing HIV epidemics in the world, and in the Western Pacific region, it stands alone at the top of a list no country wants to lead.

As I walk through the dense and ever-evolving urban landscape of Metro Manila—one of Southeast Asia’s most linguistically diverse metropolises—I’m met with a contradiction I can’t ignore. This city, teeming with life from every corner of the archipelago and beyond, is home to at least 217 local and international languages. Yet many of these tongues, particularly indigenous ones, are slipping into silence right under our noses.

August is National Language Month — a time meant to honor the diverse linguistic heritage of our nation. And yet, there is something peculiar, even contradictory, about this commemoration: the very institutions that call on us to celebrate language are often the same ones that enforce English as the standard of intelligence, education, and legitimacy. From classrooms to courtrooms, boardrooms to online platforms, one language reigns — not because it’s better, but because it’s

What is a city? To most, it is buildings, lights, transport systems, and a skyline etched against the sky. But beneath these visible layers lies another, more vital foundation: the life of the mind. Cities today race toward progress—measured in tech start-ups, high-speed trains, vertical gardens, and endless streams of data. But in our pursuit of innovation, we must ask: are we cultivating thinkers or merely consumers? Are we building spaces where souls can grow, or only mark

On July 3, the world lost Lolit Solis — a sharp-tongued, fearless, legendary columnist and TV personality. To many, she was a firebrand of Philippine showbiz — an industry voice who held power to account, never afraid of a scoop, a scandal, or a showdown. But to me, she was something far quieter, deeper, and more personal: She was my Nanay.

“You’re too ambitious.”
“It’s impossible.”
“Nothing ever changes here.” These are the words that people say when you tell them you want to fix cities like Manila. That you want to make public transport dignified. That you believe sidewalks should exist — and actually be walkable. That informal settlers should have secure housing, not just eviction notices. That urban life in the Philippines can be fair, efficient, and even joyful. Some say it’s naïve. Others say it’s madness

In “Side Show,” now playing under Sandbox Collective’s daring and evocative staging, director Toff de Venecia revives more than just a cult classic musical — he resurrects a story of identity, visibility, and shared humanity, breathing new life into the tale of conjoined twins Daisy and Violet Hilton. The result is both haunting and heartfelt, a theatrical experience that lingers long after the curtain call.

Every monsoon season Metro Manila rehearses the same grim tableau: traffic crawls through brown water, families stack furniture on second storey landings and city engineers scramble to restart stalled pumps. Even with a quarter trillion peso flood control budget, the country still shoulders about US $625 million in average annual losses—a figure the World Bank warns will climb as storms intensify and land subsides.

Am I scared of AI? I am. And this is precisely why I’m talking about it. Artificial intelligence (AI) is quickly reshaping every aspect of our world. It has already begun transforming critical sectors such as healthcare, finance, education, communication, creativity, and social connectivity. AI's potential to address complex global challenges, optimize processes, improve efficiency, and foster groundbreaking innovations is remarkable. We stand at the brink of an unprecedented

At 34, I’m preparing for my graduation. I’ve just finished ironing my gown for the ceremony, and I find myself reflecting on the long road that brought me here. I was born with a speech defect. Until Grade 5, I had an English tutor to help me find and strengthen my voice. The fact that I now write a biweekly column for Manila Bulletin feels, in many ways, like a quiet miracle. But it’s also a testament to what I’ve seen firsthand: the transformative power of education. This i

When I went to London, I was a bit lost—not just geographically, but personally. I didn’t really know what I was looking for. I’d wander around aimlessly, sit on park benches, explore tiny alleys, and just people-watch. But in all that quiet observing, something clicked. I started to realize that there’s no better education than being able to travel the world and see how different communities live, build, and thrive.

When I left the Philippines, I thought I was chasing only an education. What I didn't know then was that I was also running into a mirror—one that would reflect not just the world beyond our borders, but everything we still lack, everything we could become.

Artificial intelligence is rapidly becoming the backbone of economic growth, public services, and even national security. Yet its benefits—and the power to set its rules—are overwhelmingly concentrated in a handful of wealthy nations. For countries across Africa, Latin America, and much of Asia, this imbalance not only stifles homegrown innovation but also risks perpetuating a new form of digital dependency.

Informality within Metro Manila’s barangays often carries the stigma of deficiency — crowded alleys, makeshift housing, insecure tenure — but a closer examination reveals rich potential for community-driven renewal.

Metro Manila’s decades-long focus on car-centric planning has left its streets inhospitable to pedestrians and cyclists. My research revealed that 71 percent of residents cite insufficient infrastructure as a key barrier to daily mobility, while 72 percent point to high costs and funding constraints—and 59 percent confess a strong preference for private vehicles over public or active transport . These attitudes underscore a deeper issue: without rethinking how projects are fi