The right to speak
A public school teacher posts online about students squeezing themselves under a single electric fan during the peak of summer heat. A government nurse tweets about finishing another shift handling too many patients at once. A municipal employee quietly vents frustration over delayed salaries for job-order workers. Then somebody eventually comments:

By Herman M. Lagon
By Herman M. Lagon
A public school teacher posts online about students squeezing themselves under a single electric fan during the peak of summer heat. A government nurse tweets about finishing another shift handling too many patients at once. A municipal employee quietly vents frustration over delayed salaries for job-order workers. Then somebody eventually comments:
“Government employee ka. Dapat manahimik ka na lang.”
It is a sentence many have probably seen before. Sometimes it comes from strangers online. Sometimes from coworkers. Sometimes even from people who sincerely believe that public servants lose part of their humanity the moment they enter government service.
The moment a civil servant speaks about corruption, injustice, human rights, or poor governance, some people immediately act as if they already crossed a line. As if entering government service also means losing the right to speak honestly about problems ordinary Filipinos experience every day.
That is partly why the lingering discussions surrounding Civil Service Commission Memorandum Circular No. 03, series of 2025, became so emotionally charged. The original interpretation sounded broad enough that even “liking” or “sharing” political content online seemed dangerous for government workers. Critics pushed back almost immediately. Even Rep. Zia Alonto Adiong questioned whether a simple Facebook reaction should already be viewed as partisan political activity. The CSC later clarified that government employees can still like and share posts online as long as these do not directly promote political candidates.
Still, the confusion exposed something deeper. Many Filipinos — especially ordinary government workers — remain uncertain where political neutrality ends and where ordinary democratic expression begins. For some, even a simple online opinion already feels risky.
The law itself is actually less extreme than online arguments make it appear. The 1987 Constitution protects freedom of expression for everyone, including government employees. Government employees do not lose their constitutional rights after entering public service. In Davao Water District v. Aranjuez, the Supreme Court affirmed that civil servants may still express concerns involving public welfare. Justice Marvic Leonen and Atty. Chel Diokno have also stressed that serving government does not mean abandoning one’s voice entirely.
Of course, there are limits. Civil servants are still expected to remain professional, fair, and politically neutral. Republic Act No. 6713 prohibits government workers from openly campaigning, organizing partisan activities, or using public resources for politics. Public offices were never meant to become campaign headquarters.
But neutrality should never mean emotional numbness. There is a huge difference between partisan campaigning and speaking honestly about public realities.
There are moments when staying silent feels easier. But there are also moments when silence starts feeling wrong. Like when a government employee notices corruption hidden behind paperwork. Or when a teacher sees education funds wasted while students continue studying in poor conditions. Or when healthcare workers keep absorbing exhaustion while officials pretend everything is fine.
Criticizing incompetent officials should not automatically make someone “anti-government.” A local employee questioning poor flood preparation. A public school teacher frustrated by delayed salaries. A university worker calling attention to unfair treatment inside institutions. Sometimes criticism comes from people who still believe systems can improve.
And accountability does not always begin in courtrooms. Sometimes it begins with ordinary people asking honest questions. Why are services delayed? Why are public funds wasted? Why are citizens still suffering despite repeated promises? Those questions may be uncomfortable, but democracies weaken more when nobody asks them anymore.
Many government employees understand this tension too well. Some quietly witness corruption, favoritism, abuse, or inefficiency yet choose silence out of fear — fear of transfer, isolation, administrative complaints, or simply becoming ‘that employee’ inside the office.”
In some offices, even constructive criticism already feels dangerous.
Ironically, silence often damages institutions more than criticism does. Problems ignored for years usually return later as scandals, lawsuits, broken services, or public distrust. By then, everybody asks why nobody spoke earlier.
History offers uncomfortable lessons about this. Democracies rarely collapse overnight. As political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt observed, they more often weaken slowly through fear, silence, and the growing habit of looking away.
That fear becomes even heavier in environments where criticism is too quickly mistaken for disloyalty. That is partly why red-tagging continues to worry many Filipinos. Once criticism is casually treated as disloyalty, people begin becoming afraid to speak at all. Media groups, human rights organizations, and even UN Special Rapporteur Irene Khan have raised concerns about intimidation directed at journalists, educators, activists, and ordinary citizens. These are no longer abstract debates. They affect real teachers, nurses, students, and government workers trying to participate honestly in public life without becoming targets.
At the same time, free speech also comes with responsibility. Not every “brave” post online is truthful or helpful. Fake quote cards, reckless accusations, and disinformation damage public discourse too. Democracies suffer both when people are silenced and when truth itself slowly loses value.
Most civil servants probably already understand this balance better than social media gives them credit for. The best government workers are often not the loudest personalities online. They are the employees who continue serving honestly while refusing to become morally indifferent.
The teacher speaking about student hunger.
The social worker asking why exhausted frontliners remain understaffed.
The contractual worker wondering why salaries arrive months late.
The nurse asking for humane workloads.
The state university professor defending academic freedom.
The budget officer questioning irregularities.
They are not trying to overthrow government. Most simply do not want public service to become emotionally empty work.
Public service should never reduce people into silent employees who simply agree with everything. Civil servants are still human beings expected to care, reflect, act, and remain accountable to the public. The Constitution values openness and transparency, while Republic Act No. 6713 reminds officials that responsiveness and professionalism are part of genuine service. Those principles lose meaning if fear completely replaces honest conversation.
A healthy civil service should not fear thoughtful dissent. What it should fear is corruption, abuse, incompetence, apathy, and the slow erosion of public trust.
A government worker who aggressively campaigns for or against politicians during elections violates neutrality rules. But a government worker speaking honestly about public welfare, labor realities, injustice, or human dignity is often doing exactly what democracy quietly needs.
Sometimes loving one’s country means refusing to stay silent when silence already harms people.
***
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 that is grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views herewith do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.
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