Let me introduce to you a new era of disciples. They gather not in churches, but in comment sections—fingers poised like rosaries, chanting not prayers but names, singing not hillsongs but jingles. Their altars are tarpaulins, their relics are printed faces, their rituals performed in rallies and threads where dissent is crucified. In this new religion, salvation comes not from truth, but from unwavering loyalty. And the gods they worship? Politicians.
There is something deeply disturbing about how politics has decayed into performance—and how citizens have turned into worshippers. Somewhere between hashtags and hysterical rallies, we stopped electing leaders and started anointing them.
This is no longer supported—this is fanaticism.
In a real democracy, politicians are interrogated, criticized, and held accountable. They are employees of the people—temporary, replaceable, imperfect. But what we see now is a dangerous mutation: politicians elevated into untouchable idols, and citizens reduced into rabid defenders.
Look at the landscape. Diehard Duterte Supporters (DDS) who treat Dutertes like a messiah whose words are beyond scrutiny. Loyalists who shield Marcoses with blind allegiance, as if criticism itself were a crime. And yes—even among Kakampinks or Pinklawans, where admiration for Leni Robredo can harden into the same suffocating echo chamber they claim to oppose.
This is not speculation—it is reflected in how Filipinos engage politically.
According to the Pew Research Center, 42% of Filipinos have blocked someone on social media because of political disagreements, revealing how deeply politics has turned into personal allegiance rather than rational discourse.
This is not loyalty—this is delusion.
Because what kind of democracy survives when its citizens start acting like disciples?
People build life-sized cutouts and mannequins of politicians, dining with them as if they were saints at the table. They kiss photographs. They cry at mere glimpses. They defend every action—no matter how questionable—with the ferocity of someone protecting not a public official, but a personal savior. Criticism is treated as blasphemy. Facts are dismissed as attacks. Accountability becomes betrayal.
And for what? For a politician who doesn’t even know their name?
This is the ugliest form of political decay: when citizens become attack dogs for power.
And the politicians? They benefit from it.
Because devotion is easier to control than critical thinking. A devoted follower does not ask hard questions. A devoted follower does not demand transparency. A devoted follower obeys, amplifies, and attacks on command. In that sense, fanaticism is not just dangerous—it is convenient.
What’s worse is how this culture poisons discourse. Instead of debating policies, people trade insults. Instead of analyzing platforms, they weaponize loyalty. You are no longer allowed to think independently; you must belong. You must declare allegiance. And once you do, you are expected to defend your chosen figure at all costs—even when they are wrong.
That is not democracy. That is tribalism dressed in campaign colors.
We have reduced politics into personality cults, where surnames matter more than systems, and charisma outweighs competence. The result? Leaders are no longer pressured to perform—only to maintain their image. And as long as they are adored, they remain untouchable.
This is how accountability dies—not with censorship, but with applause.
Supporting a candidate is not the problem. Campaigning passionately is not the problem. Believing in a leader’s vision is not the problem. But when support turns into worship, when admiration turns into obsession, when citizens begin to treat politicians as gods rather than employees of the people—that is where democracy begins to rot from within.
Because a citizen who worships cannot question. And a leader who is never questioned will never feel the need to serve.
So the next time you find yourself defending a politician with blind fury, ask yourself: when did defending a politician become more important than defending the truth? When did loyalty become an excuse for cruelty?
Because the moment we start kissing the hands of those we are supposed to hold accountable, we are no longer citizens. We are subjects. And more importantly, we are forgetting who we truly are.
The Philippines is not about DDS, not about Loyalists, not about Kakampinks. It is not about color, surname, or political tribe. It is about Filipinos. Because at the end of the day, when you write your nationality on any piece of paper, it does not say DDS. It does not say Loyalist. It does not say Kakampink. It says Filipino.
If we keep choosing politicians over people—if we keep choosing blind devotion over critical thinking—then that identity will mean less and less, until all that’s left is a nation divided, screaming, and too consumed by worship to realize it has already lost its democracy.
And when that happens, what we lose is not just democracy, but the very idea of being Filipino.
Written by John Benedict N. Banday (The Open Wound), Insight PH
John Benedict N. Banday (The Open Wound), Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
