THERE IS PROBABLY a quiet consensus that criticism is something that has been a staple in our lives. And if you are open-minded enough, you will treat it as not just a bad thing. It is a quintessence of progress because we learn from it—our mistakes and our misjudgments.
As my therapist once said, life is not linear—and neither is everything else. As much as it is important that we stay firm in what we believe is right, it is just as important that we step out of our bubbles and listen to perspectives beyond our own.
I keep hearing people talk about progressive leadership like it is a brand—as if it is a façade you can easily slip on. But I think real progress is no small feat; it is entwined with challenges, and it demands effort. Ergo, real progressive leaders are believed to be those who can sit with discomfort, who are not defensive every time someone points something out. They are the ones who understand that growth does not happen in an echo chamber—and, most especially, they are those who do not fall apart when they are criticized.
In the Philippines, there is this idiom called being balat-sibuyas, which refers to people who cannot take criticism and treat even the smallest slight as something deeply personal. Why is it called balat-sibuyas? Is it the onion’s thin skin—because it's sensitive when we chop it? Under the current status quo, we see leaders who embody this trait all too well.
Exhibit A: Former president Rodrigo Duterte, now enjoying a well-deserved stay at The Hague, in the Netherlands. He was widely criticized—rightly—for the blatant injustices during his so-called War on Drugs, an operation that was severely condemned as a campaign of extrajudicial killings. Yet, despite being caught red-handed, instead of simply admitting to his sins, Duterte defends himself by claiming that “he did what he had to do.”
Exhibit B: Even at the local level, we have our very own Lray Villafuerte. After facing backlash for publicly humiliating a student publication, rather than educating himself on press freedom and responding constructively—literally and figuratively—he chose instead to harass one of its members, a student journalist who was simply doing their job. The same refusal to be held accountable clearly shows how thin-skinned these self- proclaimed leaders are, just like onions.
However, what becomes truly alarming about this pattern is not just its recurrence on the national scene, but its comical—at least for me—replication within our very own academic institution. On campuses supposedly designed to stimulate critical thinking and ethical leadership, we find our student leaders mirroring the very systems of power and behavior we condemn outside—emulating the same dynamics of authority, privilege, and impunity that we see in the broader sociopolitical landscape.
From constitutional violations to a lack of transparency and accountability, neglected responsibilities, questionable political stances and morals, and as big as corruption issues—these have become a troubling trend among our current roster of student leaders. I believe that cases of impeachment and public calls for accountability do not arise in a vacuum; rather, they emerge because, when we critically scrutinize these individuals—not just as people, but as products of their social conditions—we begin to see how easily their leadership strays from the values they once promised to uphold.
You would be surprised to know that even at the student level, some individuals are already showing extreme sensitivity to criticism. Rather than confronting criticisms with maturity and accountability, they choose to deflect them—whether by having the guts to speak up on social media and insist they are right despite clear fault, weaponizing legal action by framing legitimate scrutiny as bullying, or using the mental health card to escape the consequences of their actions. While some kept their silence, which is also tantamount to a scarcity of accountability.
It is principled and justifiable that student leaders resist and do not succumb to the gravitational pull of our oppressive system, which is built on opportunism, elitism, and detachment. These are not mere behavioral flaws but reflections of a broader, oppressive structure that reproduces itself at every level of governance, even within the confines of a university.
Leading progressively must never be superficial; rather, it must embody continuous openness to criticism and self-criticism. And ultimately, progress is measured by a leader’s ability to view criticism as an instrument for meaningful and transformative change. Leaders should always bear in mind that criticism, particularly in political life, is not an act of hostility—it is a vital mechanism of accountability. Stepping into a position—in perpetuity—has a burden to be scrutinized. Leaders are not to be insulated from the consequences of their choices and actions, especially when these gravely affect the collective.
And so, to the student leaders of Ateneo de Naga University with a new set of organizational officers soon to begin their tenure, who are by far quite promising: it is as simple as this—if you do not want to be like the national leaders we often criticize, then do not be one. Criticism, much like onions, may cause discomfort—we tear up—when we chop them, but if you will look into it, it has always been an essential ingredient in everything that we cook.
Published in the June 2024–May 2025 print release.
