TO HELL WITH DECENCY

“The great majority of men have no right to existence, but are a misfortune to higher men. I do not understand how one could make an ‘honorable man’ out of a philosopher; a philosopher’s nature and task are different from that of an ‘honorable man.’ His greatness is that he sees many things which are quite ‘offensive’ and has the courage to endure and not conceal them.”— Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

Decency. Propriety. Politeness. These words, noble as they may sound, are the gilded shackles we’ve come to accept as necessary evils in public discourse. But when did we decide that being decent was synonymous with being truthful? More importantly, who decided that those in power, ensconced in their ivory towers, could dictate when and how the rest of us speak, think, and—most damningly—feel?

Here comes Risa Hontiveros, esteemed senator, the voice of propriety herself, wagging a finger at former President Rodrigo Duterte for a little “rude” language in the Senate chambers.

Never mind that Duterte, through that profanity, represents the brutal, unapologetic voice of the masses he once served. Never mind that his raw words are closer to the truth than any sanitized, “polite” debate Hontiveros and her ilk prefer. But propriety is what’s important here, right? Because God forbid the reality of our people’s suffering should pierce the decorum of the Senate.

Hontiveros' demand for decorum is nothing new—it’s a tale as old as the concept of ruling classes themselves. Historically, the powerful have always demanded “decency” from the rest of us as a way to maintain their own sense of superiority and control. When the oppressed rise to speak, raw and real, those who sit comfortably in cushioned seats above the fray cover their ears, insisting, “Not like that.”

But isn’t that the whole damn point? Duterte’s language—raunchy, abrasive, “unacceptable”—is precisely what speaks to the reality of the Filipino people. They don't want some smooth-talking politician pandering to them with grandiose words and scripted sentiments. They want someone who can talk like them, who shares their rage and understands the depth of their struggles.

Duterte’s expletives are symptoms of a deeply broken system, raw, bleeding, and aching for genuine representation.

In critiquing Duterte’s language, Hontiveros misses a fundamental truth: the people resonate with his words because they cut through the bullshit. Hontiveros would like us to believe that she’s upholding some moral standard, but it’s nothing more than a feigned civility meant to silence voices that don’t fit her sanitized, air-conditioned world of politics.

Want to know the truth? Propriety is a tool of suppression, wielded expertly by those in power to keep the rest of us compliant. Societies, Michel Foucault noted, don’t just control people by laws and prisons, but by shaping what they say, what they think, and how they act.

Propriety, in this case, is just another form of repression disguised as “respectability.”

Who benefits when only polite voices are allowed? Certainly not the people living in poverty, nor those who face the harsh realities of drug-fueled violence on a daily basis.

These are the people Duterte represents—the unpolished, the raw, and the unapologetically angry. To ask them to abide by “Senate etiquette” is akin to asking them to abandon their pain. It’s a joke, a cruel one. And the only ones laughing are the elite, who can afford to remain polite because the real struggles of life are distant inconveniences, not lived realities.

Rodrigo Duterte is the most popular president the Philippines has ever seen. Why? Because he didn’t play by the rules of genteel politics. He never feigned the empty politeness of his predecessors. He spoke like he lived—rough, direct, and without a trace of hypocrisy. And you know what? The people loved him for it.

When Duterte speaks about drug addicts, criminals, and the police officers who fall into corruption, he isn’t mincing words because he knows, as do the people, that mincing words gets nothing done. His war on drugs, as divisive as it may be, enjoyed widespread support precisely because it reflected a desire for real change, not more empty promises wrapped up in the sterile language of Senate hearings.

Empirical data show that despite the controversies, Duterte’s approval ratings remained remarkably high. People trusted him because he was one of them. He was unafraid to show his rough edges. He was unashamed of his so-called “rudeness.”

In a country where people are accustomed to politicians who lie with a smile, Duterte’s “foul mouth” was a breath of fresh air.

But then we have Risa Hontiveros, standing atop her Senate podium, calling out Duterte for “improper language.” In this, she’s not just a critic of Duterte—she’s a gatekeeper of an elitist status quo that values politeness over authenticity. Hontiveros embodies that tendency of the educated elite to dismiss the visceral anger of the masses as “uncivilized” or “inappropriate.”

In demanding civility, she insists on treating national pain as if it were merely a bad dinner party.

Let’s call it what it is. Hontiveros’ so-called “civility” is just a way of keeping people in line, ensuring that only those who play by her rules are heard.

Why? Because if she did care about the welfare of the people, she’d be less worried about Duterte’s expletives. She’d be more focused on the underlying frustrations they represent.

If Risa Hontiveros did care about you and I, she’d recognize that Duterte’s language is but a mirror. She’d then know that it reflects the rage, fear, and disappointment of a nation that feels betrayed by the very institutions meant to protect it.

In The Wretched of the Earth, French Afro-Caribbean philosopher Frantz Fanon described the way colonizers imposed their standards of “decency” on the colonized. This forces them to internalize the idea that their own cultures and voices were somehow inferior.

What Hontiveros is doing here is not so different. Insisting on “polite” discourse is implying that there’s a “correct” way to speak about pain and suffering. A way that conveniently excludes those who are suffering the most.

Who gets to decide what is “decent” or “polite” anyway? It certainly isn’t the impoverished farmer, or that slum-dweller who has watched drugs ravage their community. For these individuals, civility is a luxury they cannot afford.

Their voices are raw because their lives are raw, and any attempt to silence them under the guise of decency is nothing short of elitist hypocrisy.

Duterte’s language is offensive, yes. But sometimes, offense is necessary. Sometimes, breaking the mold of polite discourse is the only way to get to the heart of a problem.

Hontiveros’ brand of civility isn’t just misguided. It’s harmful. In demanding that Duterte, and by extension the people he represents, censor themselves, she’s choosing to ignore the truth that politeness does not save lives. Real change comes not from sanitized discussions but from raw, unfiltered rage.

So let Duterte curse if he wants to. Let him swear in the Senate, in public, on live television. Because if a little profanity is what it takes to shake people awake, then maybe it’s time we let go of the illusion of “decency” and start respecting the rage that gives it life.

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