“STOP being offended by Facebook posts, by a piece of art, by people displaying affection, by what someone said to you. Be offended by war, poverty, greed, injustice.”
This quote by Sue Fitzmaurice landed like a slap and a mirror at once. But it was the longer version shared by my friend, Dr. Liz Olegario of UP Diliman, that made the reflection sting even deeper. In it, she laid bare how we often fire up over the wrong things, while the real dangers quietly keep winning.
Offense now feels like currency. A meme, a shirt, a pride flag, a critical text, a kiss in public, a raised hand with clenched fist—we react fast. Yet that same outrage rarely shows up for unpaid health workers, slashed school budgets, farmers pushed off their land, job order staff doing essential work without benefits, or qualified teacher applicants passed over because someone else had a padrino. We are quick to react to discomfort, but slow to respond to real harm.
This is not a call to stop caring. It is a call to care better. Not all offense is equal. Feeling uneasy is not the same as witnessing injustice. One is about us. The other is about what kind of world we allow and the values we hold dear.
Take the case of Masbate. Rich in land and culture, yet still trapped in cycles of poverty. Why? Corruption, greed, dynastic politics. An old 2011 letter in the Philippine Daily Inquirer blamed ghost projects, stolen funds, and intimidation. More than a decade later, little has changed. And yet, we rage harder online about artists “disrespecting culture” than about public officials robbing it.
It is not that we lack empathy. Filipinos care deeply. But our radar for what deserves moral urgency has been thrown off by noise, digital outrage, and curated sensitivity. We are taught to avoid conflict to keep peace, but peace without justice is just a polite version of silence in favor of the oppressor, repressor, and suppressor. Many of us say “ayaw ko na lang magsalita” as if restraint is virtue. But if no one speaks up, then who will speak for those whose lives—not just feelings—are at stake?
This quiet complicity is especially visible in schools. Teachers are often told to “just teach the module” or “just let them pass.” Avoid controversy. Do not rock the boat. But how do we teach critical thinking while dodging real issues? How do we prepare young minds to lead if we train them to be careful and safe, but not courageous and just?
Fitzmaurice’s quote challenges that. It does not tell us to stop caring. It tells us to care better. To care deeper. To save our outrage for what truly harms lives—not just bruises egos. A rude tweet is not a national crisis. But the fact that 18 million Filipinos still live below the poverty line, according to PSA’s latest data, is. That over 7 out of 10 Filipinos aged 10 to 64 are functionally illiterate, based on recent FLEMMS findings, is even more alarming. Teenage girls dropping out due to pregnancy, with boys unaccountable—that is a crisis. So is a school without toilets, a teacher juggling six subjects, or a tricycle driver paying more for rice and gas while the peso weakens. The weight of inflation is not theoretical when a kilo of onions costs more than a day’s wage. And while the country sinks deeper into trillions of debt, confidential funds swell with no clear accounting. That, not satire or sarcasm, should keep us up at night. (To be continued)/PN
