With the recently concluded Miss Universe 2025, pageant fans around the world, especially Filipino fans, erupted into a familiar swell of debate, analysis, and impassioned commentary that only pageantry can unleash. Our candidate, Ma. Ahtisa Manalo’s 3rd runner-up finish ignited the country in an almost ritualistic fashion of critique and interpretation. Her walk, styling, facial expression, and gowns were dissected as if every choice the Ms. Philippines team carried geopolitical weight. In minutes, every Filipino became a judge, every timeline a commentary panel, every barkada group chat a selection committee.
Pageantry in the Philippines, after all, is a national sport, one we approach with heavy meticulousness and precision. We measure every gesture, every syllable, every microsecond of performance. We are relentless, meticulous, and extraordinarily invested.
But what if the same scrutiny was translated to how we choose our political leaders?
Here lies the paradox that grows more troubling with every pageant competition. We exercise microscopic scrutiny on women who wear crowns of rhinestones, but we retreat into silence before the men and women who wear the figurative crowns of governance and public authority. We critique a queen’s delivery but not a local government’s procurement. We question a contestant’s preparedness but not an official’s unexplained wealth. We debate a candidate’s placement, yet allow flood-control projects, insertions in public budgets, and public anomalies, among others, without the same ferocity, despite the fact that these decisions shape our lives far more consequentially than a pageant result.
Accountability of our public servants is not just mere rhetoric but a foundational rule of our democracy. Our legal architecture establishes that public office is a public trust. The provisions under Republic Act 6713, or the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards, compel officials to act with integrity, uphold the public interest over personal interest, and that includes submitting truthful statements of assets and liabilities (SALN) for transparency and accountability.
In fact, the Supreme Court held in Republic v. Sereno, G.R. No. 237428, May 11, 2018, that the requirement to file a SALN is not a trivial or formal requirement. Neither is it something over which public officials can exercise discretion. It is mandated by Our Constitution and laws. It is meant to forge transparency and accountability in the government and as a measure meant to curb corruption.
Several other laws such as the Anti-Graft and Corrupt Practices Act (RA 3019), the Plunder Law (RA 7080), and the New Government Procurement Act (RA 12009) regulate so much of what is expected from public servants, and even the latter law on how public funds are used or possibly misused. Whether the issue is infrastructure building, health procurement, or those notoriously questionable flood-control projects, the law provides mechanisms for citizens to examine planning, bidding, implementation, and audit trails.
It is important for us to know that we have guardians of accountability. The Ombudsman, through Republic Act 6770, can investigate, prosecute, and penalize officials for graft, malversation, or ethical breaches. The Commission on Audit (COA), armed with constitutional authority, can inspect accounts, issue notices of suspension or disallowance, and demand repayment of illegal expenditures.
If anything, the law expects citizens to question, to probe, and to demand explanations. Our laws, in short, empower citizens with both the tools and the protection needed to scrutinize public officials. Yet our cultural instincts run toward pageantry, not governance. We replay a candidate’s answer but never replay the statements of local executives during budget hearings. We track the results of Miss Universe with fervor but rarely track the results of a COA audit that reveals millions in questionable disbursements.
It is some wishful thinking that if the energy we saw in the aftermath of Miss Universe 2025 were directed toward examining a flood-control contract, imagine what that would be like. Imagine if every Filipino became a judge not only of gowns and Q&A performances, but also of budget and audit findings. Imagine if we applied pageant-level scrutiny to procurement anomalies or unexplained wealth disclosures.
After every Miss Universe coronation, we remind ourselves of Filipino excellence, determination, and pride. But perhaps it is time we also remind ourselves of Filipino responsibility, including our right to question and sanction.
Pageants stir our passion. But governance determines our future. From here on, know what to scrutinize better. Tuum est.