Winning the narrative war for 2028

By Michael Henry Yusingco, LL.M

The early declaration by the Vice President could well be a precursor to resignation, timed carefully in anticipation of the trial of former President Rodrigo Duterte at the Hague. A resignation at that moment could be framed not as retreat, but as a step to redemption. It would also conveniently keep the impeachment effort in legal limbo for months. But most importantly, it will allow the Vice President to begin pushing her narrative in earnest.

That narrative is already familiar and brutally simple. “Ang higanti ng api!” on one hand, and on the other, the promise that another Duterte will bring back the “good life” under her father’s watch. It is a story rooted in grievance and nostalgia, and it works because it speaks to emotion before reason. It will energize her base instantly. If left uncontested, it can also pull in segments of the undecided electorate who are exhausted, fearful, and longing for certainty.

Narratives matter because politics is rarely won through spreadsheets or white papers. Narratives shape reality by stitching together agony, anger, and aspiration. They bypass rational defenses and create a sense of personal identification with political actors. They define who suffer the hardships and explain who is to blame (which is usually the opposing camp). Time and again, narratives have proven more persuasive than data-heavy arguments, especially in societies under economic and psychological stress.

This is where President Bongbong Marcos finds himself struggling. He is attempting to construct an anti-corruption narrative, beginning with public shaming—“Mahiya naman kayo!”—followed by the creation of the ICI, and capped by his endorsement of the anti-dynasty law and other long-delayed political reforms. On paper, this is a coherent arc. In practice, it is a hard sell given the political links of President Marcos to the masterminds of the pork barrel cartel.

The reality is that Filipinos will not believe in an anti-corruption narrative without visible consequences. They want to see the big fish arrested and detained. Crucially, they want to see President Marcos’s first cousin, former House Speaker Martin Romualdez, in handcuffs and getting his mugshot taken. If he delivers that, President Marcos enters legendary territory, and that legacy would immensely benefit his chosen successor under a continuity narrative.

By contrast, the self-styled “democratic opposition” is hobbled by narrative incoherence. It is a patchwork of potentially competing frames. There is the anti-DDS and anti-Marcos narratives, which focuses obsessively on eradicating a political brand rather than addressing lived realities. There is the reflexive “just say no to everything” posture used by fringe political groups still relying on protest politics that once mobilized crowds but now feels performative and hollow.

And there is the “united opposition” narrative, which openly flirts with uniting with the Marcos camp, confusing supporters and diluting moral clarity. The pragmatists among this group are pushing this as the only way to deter a Duterte return to Malacañang. Which in a perverse way cements the Vice President’s frontrunner status. As one can see, none of these strands form a compelling story of governance. These are still narratives born out of personality-driven politics.

Understanding which narrative will land requires understanding the voter. Roughly 70 percent of a young electorate (63% are Millennials and Gen Z) live paycheck to paycheck. They are not destitute, but they are perpetually vulnerable. Anxiety is usually part of their morning routine. Around the same number live in densely packed urban areas, where anxiety about personal welfare clings to them on an hourly basis. The average voter lives without a relaxed state of mind, but the dream for a better life is in there every minute.

Conventional wisdom says this makes them responsive only to “gut issues.” That is partly true, but dangerously incomplete. The mistake is assuming this requires dumbing everything down into slogans and tired tropes. Filipino voters may be heavy social media users, but they are not idiots. They know when they are being pandered to. Note that a majority of the electorate are financially literate. They will do their due diligence if they need to decide on what is best for their future.

A vast majority of voters are looking for solutions that speak directly to their daily struggles. Traffic that steals hours of their lives. Fear of that one hospital visit away from ruin. Stagnant wages and shrinking opportunities. They want fewer daily frictions and more room to breathe. A narrative that acknowledges these realities and outlines a credible, if difficult, path forward can resonate deeply. But it has to be presented well. Preachy lectures will fail. Empty spectacle will fail faster.

Lamentably, when no convincing narrative is offered—when reform is abstract, opposition is mere noise, and continuity feels unearned—voters default to the most primitive rationale available. They flip the “lesser evil” switch in their heads. This is how grievance narratives thrive. This is how the Vice President wins the narrative war without winning the argument.

Unless the electorate is approached with honesty about the hard road ahead and clarity about how to walk it, the politics of resentment will keep winning. Not because it is true, but because there is just nothing else.