Power can be intoxicating.

This is written with certain officials in Bulacan—both elected and appointed—in mind. Some believe that having authority means having absolute power and control. They walk through municipal halls as if they own everything, and their word is the law that everyone must follow. They become abusive, thinking their power will last forever. They are wrong!

Take, for instance, two mayors in the province. One assumed office after a well-loved predecessor passed away. He quickly grew arrogant, surrounded himself with bodyguards, and targeted employees associated with the late mayor. He believed he had the loyalty of most barangay chairs and felt assured of victory in the polls. He lost. Too humiliated by the defeat, he didn’t even try to run again in the next election.

Another mayor, also a successor to a deceased local chief executive, thought he was the town’s brightest and most capable. He disregarded the advice of more seasoned officials and made decisions unilaterally, believing his political strength alone would carry him through. He forgot that he had inherited the position—he wasn’t elected to it. He made major mistakes, and his incompetence revealed itself. He, too, lost in the election and learned the hard way.

This kind of behavior is also common among some appointed municipal officials. Overwhelmed by the power they hold, they act as if they’re untouchable—arrogant, uncaring toward employees (especially non-regular workers), and detached from constituents and local business owners. They use their positions not to serve, but to dominate.

Such arrogance stems from a dangerous illusion of permanence. Many officials believe their power is secure and their misdeeds untraceable. But history reveals a different truth. The political graveyard is filled with once-powerful names undone by abuses they thought would be forgotten.

Consider Rodrigo Duterte—once feared, now facing jail time before the International Criminal Court. Or Former Negros Oriental Rep. Arnie Teves, recently arrested and deported after Timor-Leste realized the geopolitical consequences of harboring a fugitive. Both believed they were above the law. Both were wrong.

Officials in Bulacan would do well to remember- for every ghost project, every kickback, every questionable contract, there is a paper trail. Procurement documents, audit reports, and witness testimonies hang like a guillotine—waiting to drop when the political winds shift. Journalists, watchdogs, and citizens are always watching, always ready to connect the dots. Political connections may offer temporary shelter, but the truth always finds its way to light.

To those in power, it is better for your own sake to always remember: you are servants, not masters. Your authority is borrowed. Your actions are recorded. Your legacy will be defined by the people you serve. When pride overshadows purpose, the fall is not just likely—it is inevitable. And justice, though it may take time, ultimately prevails.

Mike Manalaysay is the founder and editor-in-chief of Arkipelago News. A seasoned journalist with over two decades of experience, he is committed to defending truth and justice and holding those in power accountable.

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