Shadows inside Malacanang

The President’s continued procrastination on the pressing issue of a total ban on online gambling reveals more than just indecisiveness—it is a window into the unspoken power dynamics at play in Malacañang. 

Catholic leaders have been loud and clear in denouncing the social decay brought on by online gambling. Their criticism speaks not merely of moral concern but of the concrete damage to Filipino families and communities. And yet, the silence—or worse, the studied ambiguity—of the President on the matter suggests that the problem lies not in the lack of awareness, but in the presence of something far more insidious: influence.

There appears to be a strong undercurrent of negotiation behind the scenes, where the possibility of heavy regulation instead of an outright ban is being floated. If true, this represents a dangerous compromise—one designed not to protect the public, but to protect the lucrative interests of powerful gambling operators. These businessmen, who thrive in the legal gray zones and offshore loopholes, have much to lose in a total ban. And they seem to have enough clout to delay, dilute or derail meaningful reform. When public policy begins to mirror the priorities of a privileged few instead of the suffering majority, we can no longer pretend that our democracy is functioning as intended.

This pattern of decision-making—or the lack thereof—is not isolated. The surprise resignation of Energy Regulatory Commission (ERC) Chairperson Monalisa Dimalanta added another layer of intrigue to the growing list of unexplained exits from key government posts. Her departure follows closely on the heels of yet another reshuffle at the Presidential Communications Office (PCO), now on its fifth secretary in less than three years. These changes, often abrupt and unexplained, only add to the perception of disarray at the heart of the executive branch.

Why did Dimalanta resign? Was she, like former Department of Transportation Secretary Jaime J. Bautista, nudged out under the familiar and vague excuse of “health reasons”? The pattern is too consistent to ignore. Competent officials resign under a fog of euphemisms, only to be replaced without a clear explanation or discernible policy shift. This signals that decisions are not being made transparently or in the interest of good governance. Rather, they appear to be shaped by actors who prefer to remain in the shadows—unelected, unnamed, but evidently powerful.

Even the PCO, which has become more of a propaganda machine than an information bureau, is struggling to fulfill its role. But how can it succeed when the President himself does not seem to know what he wants to communicate? The constant changing of personnel in the PCO is a symptom of a deeper problem: the absence of a clear vision from the top. Without coherent goals, no amount of spin will be able to mask the administrative confusion and policy drift that currently plague this administration.

At the heart of these developments is a troubling realization: the President’s office, once envisioned as the vanguard of the people’s will, appears to be increasingly vulnerable to the whims of vested interests. The people who truly wield influence in Malacañang are not the electorate, but those who operate behind curtains—businessmen, brokers, and power players who seem to dictate decisions based on private profit rather than public welfare.

We are witnessing a presidency adrift, guided not by principle but by proximity to power. This is not just a failure of leadership—it is a betrayal of the public trust. If this administration truly serves the people, then it must break free from these invisible chains and make bold, unequivocal decisions that prioritize the nation over narrow interests. Until then, the shadows will continue to rule, and the people will continue to pay the price.