In a twist that no political strategist could have predicted, the aggressive campaign to discredit President Bongbong Marcos appears to be unraveling in the most spectacular fashion. Instead of eroding his support base, the recent explosive statements and public attacks launched by his critics—and shockingly, by his own sister, Senator Imee Marcos—have triggered a massive wave of empathy from the Filipino public. What was intended to be a demolition job has inadvertently humanized the President, painting him as a solitary figure maintaining his dignity while being bombarded by those who should be his closest allies. The strategy of “shock and awe” employed by the opposing camp seems to have forgotten a fundamental trait of the Filipino psyche: we naturally side with the one who is being bullied, especially when the bully is their own flesh and blood.

The turning point for many observers was the recent spectacle where Senator Imee Marcos unleashed a barrage of criticisms against the administration in front of a massive crowd. For many, this crossed a cultural red line. Prominent figures, including former Senator Ping Lacson, have voiced what many ordinary citizens are feeling in private. Lacson described the act of attacking one’s brother in public as deeply “un-Filipino” and lacking in basic decency. In our culture, family disputes are usually kept within the confines of the home, whispered among friends perhaps, but never broadcasted to thousands of strangers. The sight of a sister tearing down her brother on a public stage did not incite anger against the President; instead, it evoked a profound sense of pity for him. It highlighted the pain he must be enduring, watching his own family member lead the charge against him while he remains stoic and silent.

This silence has become the President’s loudest weapon. Throughout the relentless tirades from the Duterte camp and the criticisms from his sister, President Marcos has notably refused to retaliate. He has not uttered a single bad word against his sister or his former political partners. This refusal to engage in mudslinging stands in stark contrast to the noise coming from his detractors. For many neutral observers, and even those who were previously critical of him, this behavior demonstrates a level of maturity and statesmanship that is rare in modern politics. The public is beginning to see a man who is choosing to focus on his work rather than getting dragged into a messy, personal squabble. This “gentlemanly” approach is winning over hearts that political arguments never could, creating a reservoir of sympathy that is proving difficult for his enemies to breach.

Adding to this growing narrative of sympathy is the resurfacing of a critical detail regarding the President’s personal history and health. Old footage and records have reminded the public of the ultimate sacrifice he made for his father, the late President Ferdinand Marcos Sr., back in 1983. It is a documented fact that Bongbong Marcos donated one of his kidneys to his ailing father in a desperate bid to extend his life. This act of profound love and devotion required a major surgery and left him with only one functioning kidney. This medical reality effectively debunks the persistent rumors regarding alleged substance abuse, as medical experts and the President’s own past statements clarify that his asthmatic condition and solitary kidney make such vices physically impossible for him.

The contrast between the dutiful son who gave a part of his own body to save his father and the current image of a family torn apart by politics is striking. The narrative has shifted from policy failures or political alliances to a personal story of betrayal and resilience. While his sister is seen by some as prioritizing political maneuvering over family unity, the President is being viewed through the lens of his past sacrifice and his current forbearance. The public is asking themselves: if he could give his kidney for his father, perhaps his silence now is another form of sacrifice to keep whatever is left of the family peace.

Ultimately, the opposition’s strategy has failed because it underestimated the emotional intelligence of the electorate. Filipinos are deeply relational people who value family above all else. By attacking the President on such a personal level, his critics have made him a sympathetic victim rather than a villain. The more they scream, the more he looks like the better man. This unintended consequence serves as a powerful lesson in Philippine politics: you can attack a politician’s policies, but when you try to destroy a man’s family in public, you risk turning him into a martyr in the eyes of the people. The “glass” has indeed moved, but it has poured a cup of sympathy for the President that may well sustain him through the rest of his term.