Eat The Rich

"eat the rich" – three words that have echoed through centuries of revolution, from the guillotines of the french revolution to the streets of modern protest movements. the phrase, often attributed to jean-jacques rousseau's observation that "when the people shall have nothing more to eat, they will eat the rich," represents more than mere cannibalistic metaphor. it embodies the inevitable breaking point when systemic inequality becomes so grotesque, so morally reprehensible, that the oppressed have no choice but to consume the very system that devours them. today, as i write this from a philippines drowning in corruption while its people drown in floods that could have been prevented, i find myself wondering if we've reached that breaking point – or if we're still too comfortable in our collective apathy to care.

because who fucking cares if the poor people abuses the system? rich people do that every single day and none of us bat an eye.

i've been called "too loud" recently. too political. friends have distanced themselves because apparently my refusal to stay quiet about injustice makes dinner conversations uncomfortable. here's what they don't understand: there's no such thing as being "untouched by politics." politics decides if your children have clean water to drink. politics determines whether the roads you drive on will collapse during the next earthquake. politics controls whether hospitals have enough medicine when your family gets sick.

the luxury of saying "i'm not political" is exactly that – a luxury. it's privilege in its purest form. it means you're comfortable enough, wealthy enough, connected enough that systemic failures don't immediately threaten your survival. when you can afford private healthcare, you don't worry about stolen health funds. when you live in gated communities, you don't worry about flood control money disappearing into contractors' pockets. when your family has generational wealth, you don't worry about education budgets being embezzled.

but here's the reality: even the privileged aren't actually safe. climate change doesn't check your bank account before sending typhoons. corruption eventually reaches everyone when infrastructure fails completely. economic collapse affects the wealthy too when entire systems break down. the elite think they're insulated, but they're just delaying the inevitable.

look at our recent disasters. billions meant for flood control were stolen by contractors working with corrupt officials. families lost everything to waters that should have been controlled. children drowned in floods that engineering could have prevented. every single death was caused by elite greed, not natural disasters. yet somehow pointing this out makes me "too intense" for polite company.

the sierra madre continues being destroyed by illegal loggers protected by political networks. each tree that falls means worse flooding, stronger typhoons, and more deaths in the future. but discussing environmental destruction apparently ruins the mood at parties.

then there's claudine co – a perfect example of how political dynasties and business elites work together to exploit our economy. clear evidence of systematic corruption, but people are more interested in the drama than the actual crime. we've become more fascinated by personalities than policies, more entertained by spectacle than concerned about substance.

and rodrigo duterte. we still talk about his "mistakes" instead of his crimes. mass murder isn't a policy difference – it's murder. war crimes aren't leadership flaws – they're war crimes. when we normalize brutality by calling it "imperfect governance," we don't just insult the dead, we destroy our own moral compass.

this is what elite capture looks like: the system is so good at protecting the powerful that even victims defend their oppressors. we've been trained to value politeness over justice, comfort over truth, maintaining relationships over maintaining humanity. we police each other's resistance instead of resisting the system crushing us. people say my political vocality makes them uncomfortable. good. children dying from preventable diseases because health funds were stolen should make you uncomfortable. families losing homes to preventable floods should disturb your peace. environmental destruction threatening millions should ruin your day.

the "eat the rich" moment isn't coming – it's been here every time a filipino died from corruption while elites lived in luxury. every family forced to choose between medicine and food while politicians built mansions. every student who dropped out because they couldn't afford school while education money disappeared.

we just don't recognize it because we've been taught that being polite is more important than being just.

so yes, i'm cutting off apolitical people. not from anger, but necessity. i cannot maintain friendships with people who want me silent about injustice to protect their comfort. i cannot pretend neutrality is noble when one side is killing filipinos through corruption and the other is trying to stop them. there's no middle ground between justice and injustice. no compromise between life and death. no neutrality between oppressor and oppressed.

the uncomfortable truth is this: our silence hasn't bought us peace – it's bought them time. time to steal more, kill more, destroy more. and every day we choose comfort over courage, we become complicit in our own destruction. i'd rather be alone with my conscience than comfortable with complicity. the dead deserve at least that much from those of us still lucky enough to be alive.

sincerely,

someone who isn't apolitical