The True Heroes: Brown Is the Color of Revolution

Wazzup Pilipinas!? 

The Unseen Heroes: Commuters, OFWs, and Taxpayers Fighting a Corrupt System

They are nameless, faceless, and often forgotten. They do not wear capes, nor do they stand on gilded platforms of power. Yet every day, they rise before dawn and return home long after the sun has set—commuters enduring the chaos of crumbling transport systems, overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) sacrificing years away from their families, and taxpayers whose hard-earned pesos are siphoned into the pockets of the corrupt. These are the real heroes of the Philippines, forced to shoulder the weight of a nation that too often fails them.

But how long can a country survive when its lifeblood—the very people who keep it alive—are bled dry?

The Exploitation of Everyday Heroes

In the Philippines, commuters lose not just hours in traffic but entire pieces of their lives—time that could have been spent with loved ones, pursuing dreams, or simply resting. OFWs, hailed as “modern-day heroes,” are celebrated in speeches yet abandoned in practice, working in foreign lands under conditions that sometimes border on inhumane. Taxpayers, meanwhile, are compelled to fuel a system that robs them blind through corruption, inefficiency, and betrayal of trust.

Each peso deducted from their salaries, each remittance sent home, each fare paid on decrepit transport is a sacrifice—a silent act of heroism. Yet their sacrifices are twisted into instruments of exploitation.

A Nation on the Brink

The question now looms: why continue feeding a beast that devours its own children? Indonesia has shown the world that when people rise in unity against corruption, governments tremble. Students, workers, farmers, and ordinary citizens marched in defiance, proving that real power does not lie in gilded offices but in the streets.

In the Philippines, however, the people remain divided—caught between fear and hope, resignation and defiance. The frustration is palpable, simmering beneath the surface. Many whisper about revolt, but few dare to ignite the flame.

Symbols of Resistance

In this struggle, colors become more than mere shades—they become battle cries. Pink, once a symbol of hope, and green, a symbol of renewal and environmental awakening, now merge into a vision of resistance: a reminder that true change is not handed down from above but demanded from below.

These colors echo across the streets, in banners, in art, and in the hearts of the people. They are the palette of a new revolution—not one of violence, but of collective awakening, solidarity, and refusal to remain complicit in a corrupt system.

The Call to Action

Ross Flores Del Rosario, founder of Wazzup Pilipinas and a relentless voice against injustice, challenges Filipinos to confront the unthinkable: to consider withholding their very lifeblood—their taxes—until true accountability and justice are restored. It is a radical notion, but one rooted in a simple truth: why should the people continue to feed a government that has betrayed them at every turn?

The time has come to recognize the unseen heroes not as mere victims of circumstance but as the very vanguard of transformation. They are the ones who endure, who sacrifice, who sustain the Philippines. And it is their collective strength that can one day topple corruption and demand a future worthy of their suffering.

The Final Question

So the question is not whether change is possible—it is whether the people are ready to fight for it. Commuters, OFWs, taxpayers: the forgotten heroes of a bleeding nation. Will they remain silent, or will they rise as the force that reclaims the Philippines from the grip of betrayal?

The answer lies not in the hands of the powerful, but in the millions who keep the nation alive each day.

I. Who Are Today’s Heroes?

We don’t need to look at monuments to know who the modern heroes of the Philippines are. We see them every single day.

They are the commuters squeezed into overcrowded trains and buses, enduring the heat, sweat, and floods just to arrive at work and bring home a meager income.

They are the OFWs—nurses, seafarers, domestic helpers—who leave their families behind to labor in deserts, cruise ships, and foreign cities, sending dollars that keep the Philippine economy alive, even if it costs them their presence in their children’s lives.

They are the taxpayers who keep paying their dues despite knowing their hard-earned money is stolen through corruption, rarely translated into working hospitals, decent roads, or social services.

Politicians and billionaires often claim that they are the drivers of progress. But the truth is undeniable: the Philippines is built on the sacrifices, sweat, and hope of ordinary Filipinos.

II. Fighting the Wrong Battle: Color vs. Color

Instead of uniting, we often fall into the trap of division. We bicker over political parties and personalities, clinging to colors as if they are our salvation. We argue over who has the “cleaner” brand of governance, who deserves praise, who deserves hate.

All the while, the elites laugh. Because while we divide ourselves in the name of politicians, they divide the spoils of power and wealth. And we—reduced to spectators—merely clap or jeer like an audience at their theater.

III. The Lesson from Indonesia: Courage, Not Political Colors

Something different is happening in Indonesia, and it is a lesson Filipinos must learn. Their protests are not about political parties or elite leaders. Their symbols are born from the courage of ordinary people.

Pink. The color of the hijab worn by a woman who stood bravely before the Indonesian parliament in defiance. Her hijab became a symbol of bravery—ordinary people daring to face power.

Green. The color of a delivery driver’s jacket, worn by Affan Kurniawan, who was killed by the military during protests. His jacket became the emblem of solidarity with the working class, of lives cut short by injustice.

These colors—pink and green—have spread across Indonesia not as partisan banners, but as a people’s banner. They symbolize courage and sacrifice, not politicians.

Filipinos must understand this. Our true color is not red, yellow, blue, or green. Our true color has always been brown—the color of the worker, the street vendor, the jeepney driver, the teacher, the single mother washing clothes to survive.

IV. The Discaya Testimony: A Familiar Tragedy

Consider the ongoing Discaya corruption scandal. Contractors Sarah and Curlee Discaya testified before Congress that 17 to 18 lawmakers and several DPWH officials demanded 10% to 25% kickbacks from flood-control projects.

Among those implicated were Speaker Martin Romualdez, actor-turned-lawmaker Arjo Atayde, Marcy Teodoro, Patrick Michael Vargas, Marivic Co-Pilar, Dean Asistio, Benjamin Agarao Jr., and others. All denied the accusations. Many threatened lawsuits.

But the Filipino people ask: Will anyone truly be punished? Or is this another play, another cycle where elites accuse each other, deny everything, and eventually walk away free?

Again, we are left as spectators. We fund the projects through our taxes, yet we have no seat in deciding who is guilty. The stage belongs to the elites; the masses remain the audience.

V. Beyond Outrage: The Reforms We Need

Anger alone cannot dismantle this system. What the Philippines needs are structural reforms that end elite monopoly and open governance to the people:

An Anti-Political Dynasty Law to end the stranglehold of families on power.

Reform or abolish the Party-List System so it genuinely represents the marginalized instead of serving as placeholders for dynasties.

Closed-list proportional representation with gender quotas to create inclusive parliaments.

A Parliamentary System with a strong opposition for faster accountability.

Institutional support for marginalized groups, women, and youth so they can run for office on equal footing.

Genuine agrarian reform and land protection to empower farmers and fisherfolk politically.

Mandatory civil society participation in policymaking and corruption hearings to ensure transparency.

Direct democracy (Swiss model) where citizens vote on critical laws and corruption cases.

Civic participation as a duty—in hearings, barangay programs, debates—so people are not passive spectators.

Federalism with safeguards to prevent dynastic capture at the local level.

These reforms are not abstract ideals. They are survival measures for a democracy on the edge of collapse.

VI. The Revolution of the Mind

But before reforms can take root, Filipinos must first undergo the most important revolution: a revolution of the mind.

Why do we keep returning to dynasties? Why do we romanticize billionaires in a country where poverty is systemic? Why do we keep waiting for saviors from above instead of realizing our collective power?

History teaches us this:

Singapore became Singapore only after shedding its colonial mentality and daring to stand on its own.

Finland built its welfare state because it embraced democratic socialism when it mattered most.

Britain achieved parliamentary democracy only when it decided that monarchy was not enough.

So must the Philippines. We cannot expect transformation without first asking the most painful question: “Why are we still here?”

Until we find the courage to answer, nothing will change.

VII. A Call to True Heroes

This National Heroes’ Day—or any day we remember the word bayani—let us stop confining it to statues and history books.

The heroes are us. The commuters. The workers. The vendors. The OFWs. The drivers. The teachers. The mothers and fathers holding families together against impossible odds.

We do not need the colors of politicians to define us. We only need to remember that our color is brown.

The fight is not color versus color. It is up versus down. Elites versus masses. Billionaires versus the struggling middle class and poor.

When Filipinos stop waiting for colorful saviors and start recognizing themselves as the true heroes, that is the day the real revolution begins.

For the Philippines. For the next generation. For ourselves.