Rage and the missing ‘A’

By Herman M. Lagon

There is something oddly memorable about a political acronym that seems to forget part of what it promises. Reform Alliance for Good Governance and Accountability—RAGE, they call it. Somewhere between the “A” and all the applause, you begin to wonder: where did accountability go? Was it left somewhere backstage, or is it still trying to catch up with the rest?

At first, it sounds like a joke. Nothing serious. But it sticks. You think about it again. And then again. Until it stops feeling like a dig—and starts feeling like something worth asking.

The RAGE coalition launch in April 2026, just before the House’s impeachment proceedings, felt very familiar—raised fists, familiar names, and lines that sounded strong but did not really explain much. Led by Davao City Mayor Sebastian Duterte and backed by a diverse coalition, it presented itself as a “reform” movement. But for many watching, what stood out was not what was said—but what was not there.

If you listened closely, it did not feel like a policy discussion. It felt more like a reunion. The tone leaned on loyalty, on legacy, on the idea that what came before is still enough. And in many ways, continuity does help. In classrooms and in barangays, it builds trust. But politics is different. It asks a harder question: continuity of what, exactly?

That is where the discomfort creeps in. “Good governance.” “Accountability.” We have heard these before. We all still want them, that is clear. But surveys like those from Social Weather Stations (2023) also show a growing hesitation—people are no longer quick to believe. Saying it is easy. Proving it is harder.

A teacher once said: when students promise to improve, you do not listen—you wait for the next quiz. Politics works the same way. The RAGE coalition has made its introduction. The next question is whether it will move beyond symbolism and rhetoric into something measurable. Will there be clear proposals or proofs of concept—on transparency, on public spending, on track records, on accountability mechanisms? Or will the message remain anchored in identity rather than policy?

Critics have not been gentle. Some see the coalition as a form of early positioning for 2028, a strategic regrouping rather than a spontaneous reform movement. There is nothing unusual about that. Philippine politics has long followed this rhythm—alliances forming early, messages being tested, and support built well before formal campaigns begin, a pattern often linked to weak party institutionalization and elite-driven competition (Quimpo, 2019). In that sense, RAGE is not an exception. It is part of a script voters already know by heart.

What changes the tone is the context. The country is dealing with rising costs, uncertain work, and a younger generation that is more aware—but less willing to wait. In faculty rooms, on roadside rides, and in late-night chats, the conversations have shifted. Less talk about promises, more about making ends meet. When a kilo of rice and a liter of diesel feel heavier on the budget, “accountability” stops being abstract. It becomes painfully concrete.

This is why the coalition’s framing matters. To speak of accountability is to invite questions that cannot be brushed aside. It is to be asked about past decisions, unresolved controversies, and institutional practices—questions on public spending, such as confidential funds, and how these are explained to the public. It is to accept that trust is not built by repetition, but by clarity, by receipts. As political communication literature often highlights, credibility rests on the perceived alignment between what leaders say and what they do (McNair, 2017).

There is also the matter of tone. The name “RAGE” carries weight—emotion, urgency, even confrontation. For some supporters, it signals strength. For others, it raises concern. We are no strangers to intense politics. We have grown up around it. But many quietly prefer leaders who calm things down rather than stir them up. It shows in small ways. Even in classrooms, the steady teachers leave the mark.

Still, it would be too easy—and unfair—to write the coalition off too soon. Political movements can change. They evolve, sometimes unexpectedly. The real measure of RAGE will not be its launch, but what follows. Will it open itself to scrutiny? Will it articulate concrete and authentic reforms? Will it move beyond personality and invest in institutions that outlast elections?

For voters, the challenge is less dramatic but more difficult. It is the discipline of looking past the performance and asking quieter questions. What is being proposed? What is being avoided? What is being repeated? In a country where memory fades easily and narratives travel fast, discernment is no longer optional. It is part of responsible citizenship.

And perhaps it is worth saying this plainly: writing something like this will likely invite its own share of reactions—some thoughtful, others less so. That, too, has become part of the landscape. But noise, whether in rallies or in comment sections, does not change the responsibility to ask better questions.

Because accountability is not a letter—it is a test.

And so the missing “A” does not quite disappear. It lingers—not as a punchline, but as a challenge. Accountability cannot be claimed by naming it. It has to show up in real decisions, especially when it is inconvenient. Otherwise, even the best branding starts to feel empty.

So maybe the real question is not whether RAGE can draw a crowd. We have seen that happen many times before. The harder question comes after—when everything quiets down. What is left for us ordinary Filipinos—teachers, drivers, students, parents, vendors, workers—to rely on?

Because at this point, people are no longer impressed by volume. They are paying attention to what leaders actually do.

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.