There’s a certain satisfaction that comes from watching a snake eat its own tail. No, not a metaphor for betrayal—just biology, instinct, the slow spiral of self-destruction that can only be stopped by cutting off the head. I’ve never been a fan of euphemisms, though, so let’s say it plainly: Sara Duterte wanting to cut off Bongbong Marcos’s head isn’t just symbolic. It’s justice wrapped in a personal vendetta, and damn it, it’s delicious to watch.
Now, why is it good for the country to see two of its most powerful political figures in conflict? Let’s ask the important questions here. Why is Bongbong’s betrayal such a pivotal moment in Philippine politics? This isn’t just some playground bickering between powerful political kids. This is the implosion of an alliance built on lies, a Frankenstein monster stitched together with Bongbong’s ambition and the desperation of those who want to restore the oligarchy.
Except now, this monster has turned on its creator. And in its blind pursuit of power, it’s clawing at the very person who once gave it life—Sara Duterte. But unlike the likes of Leni “Madumb” Robredo, Sara is not a passive victim. She’s fighting back, and it’s a reckoning long overdue.
There’s something perversely poetic in watching Bongbong and Sara turn against each other. It’s the stuff of Machiavelli’s The Prince—”A ruler must simulate and dissimulate,” he writes. Simulate loyalty, simulate friendship, but don’t trust a damn soul. Bongbong is a master of this, weaving false alliances to cling to power.
But Sara—God, Sara—is something else entirely. She’s not simulating anymore. She’s actualizing vengeance, and Bongbong is standing at ground zero.
And why is that a good thing? Because when two colossal powers clash—one driven by sincere conviction and the other by deception—the reckoning that follows can reveal something far more valuable than the illusion of unity: truth. Not the capital-T truth we find in textbooks, but a raw, uncut version of it.
When Sara threatened to dig up Ferdinand Marcos Sr.’s body and toss it into the sea, she wasn’t just spitting bile. She was baiting a response, and she was right. Those who once pretended to hate the Marcos dictatorship suddenly called for respect and dignity for the very family they once condemned.
In that moment, she wasn’t just reacting. She was tapping into a deep, guttural rage—a rage aimed at the hypocrisy that has allowed the Marcoses to creep back into power.
We’ve been spectators to this horror show, munching on our popcorn as history unfolds before our eyes. What better ending could there be than for the Marcos legacy to be torn down, not by an angry mob, but by the very woman who helped put Bongbong in power?
And let’s not pretend like Bongbong wasn’t using Sara from the beginning. She was a pawn in his little game. She was his shield. She was his ticket to the presidency, his fixer, his way to make sure the massive, unwavering legion of Duterte supporters—the backbone of Philippine politics—would vote for him and wouldn’t question his rise to power. He knew exactly what he was doing when he attached himself to her.
And now, he’s realizing that the thing about a shield is that if you push it away, it can be used against you.
This is Greek tragedy at its finest. It’s like Oedipus gouging out his own eyes because the truth was too unbearable. Only in this version, it’s Bongbong trying to stab out his own heart, realizing too late that the only reason he sits on his father’s throne is because of the support from a family he’s now trying to burn.
Foucault, in his Discipline and Punish, writes about the spectacle of punishment—how public executions were meant to display power, to make an example of dissenters.
But what we’re seeing now is the spectacle turned on its head. Bongbong is publicly flogging his former ally, but instead of solidifying his power, he’s showing the nation just how fragile it really is. He’s exposing the rotting foundations of his rule, foundations built on layers of lies, deception, and corruption, and now, ironically, on the reputation of the Duterte family.
But Bongbong’s gravest mistake is forgetting that Sara is not your average political figure. She’s not out here trying to “heal” or “rebuild”. She’s out here to eviscerate. And that’s exactly what the Philippines needs right now.
I know what you’re thinking—why on earth would anyone root for vindictiveness? Isn’t that just petty, divisive, destructive?
Sure, but sometimes destruction is the only way to build something new. I mean, look at history. The great revolutions weren’t birthed out of polite negotiations and handshakes. They were born out of blood. Of fire. Of fury. Sara is not here to mend fences with the Marcoses. She’s here to set the entire estate on fire. And in the ashes, maybe—just maybe—the Philippines can finally move forward.
Vindictiveness has a place in politics, just as it does in war. Sun Tzu, in The Art of War, speaks of the importance of knowing when to strike and when to retreat. Sara is a strategist at heart. She waited until the perfect moment—after Marcos Jr. accused her of deception, after his administration’s cracks began to show, and after his approval ratings started to slip.
She knows exactly when to cut, and how deep to go. And in a country where political alliances are more like fleeting affairs than lifelong commitments, her timing couldn’t be better.
The beauty of all this is that she’s exposing not only Bongbong’s weaknesses. It also exposes the deeper decay within the Philippine political system itself. By turning on Bongbong, she’s shining a light on the transactional nature of power in this country. The way politicians use and discard each other as if they were pieces on a chessboard.
The “unity” they promised during the elections? Sara shows us that it was nothing more than a façade. A temporary truce that was bound to crumble.
So if you ask me, is this feud between Bongbong and Sara Duterte good for the country? Damn National Right to Lifet, it is. Because it’s not just about them. It’s about me and you. It’s about exposing the ugly truth behind political dynasties and alliances. It’s about tearing down the Marcos myth once and for all.
And most importantly, it’s about reminding us that sometimes, the most righteous path forward is through destruction.
Sara isn’t just a politician. She’s a weapon. And in a country that’s been strangled by the legacy of the Marcoses for far too long, that weapon is exactly what we need.
Bongbong Marcos, the one who clung to Sara to shield him from the nation’s ire and carry him to the presidency, is now once again in need of protection. Only this time, no one’s coming to save him. He has destroyed his former allies, while others have now turned against him. The snake has eaten its tail, and the cycle of power and betrayal continues.
I can’t wait for the head to roll.
