Critical Thinking in the Philippines: A Self-Reflective Journey Through History, Philosophy, and Digital Disruption

The idea came one quiet morning while I was getting ready for the day. A question appeared out of nowhere: why does it feel like critical thinking is dying in the Philippines? Then another one followed—was it ever really alive here?

I paused, thinking about how we confuse information with understanding. Everyone has something to say, yet few pause long enough to test what they believe.

We scroll, we react, we argue. But rarely do we stop to ask, wait, totoo ba ‘to?

It stayed with me for the rest of the day. I kept replaying that question while doing the laundry, while scrolling, while pretending not to care about the news. I knew I had to trace where it all began—how we were taught to think, and what kind of thinking we lost along the way.

This piece goes deep into that search. From philosophy to our own classrooms, from the past to the feeds we scroll today—it’s a long read, meant for those who still care to understand.

What Is Critical Thinking? A Philosophical Foundation

Before asking whether critical thinking ever lived or died in our country, I had to stop and ask what it really means. The term sounds simple, but the idea runs deep.

Critical thinking is the process of analyzing facts, evidence, observations, and arguments to form sound conclusions. It means recognizing hidden assumptions, justifying our ideas, comparing perspectives, and checking if our reasoning holds up. The goal is to reach judgment through reason, skepticism, and fairness (Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Britannica).

American philosopher John Dewey gave this habit a modern name in his 1910 book How We Think. He called it “reflective thinking”—a disciplined way of pausing before judgment, keeping a healthy skepticism, and maintaining an open mind. These attitudes, according to Dewey, are what make thinking genuinely critical (The Education Hub, UWE Repository).

But the roots go much further back—long before psychology departments or research journals. The story starts in ancient Greece, with a man who simply kept asking questions.

The Ancient Roots: Socrates, Plato, and the Birth of Dialectic

The story of critical thinking begins with Socrates (470–399 BCE), the Athenian philosopher who spent his life asking questions no one else wanted to answer. Through his quiet persistence, he discovered something uncomfortable: many people couldn’t defend the beliefs they claimed to know best. Beneath their confident words were vague meanings, weak evidence, and contradictions.

From this, Socrates drew one lasting insight: authority is not the same as truth. A person can lead, teach, or hold power, yet still be wrong. Real wisdom begins with admitting how little we actually know (Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Critical Thinking Foundation).

What became known as the Socratic Method—or elenchus—was a disciplined way of asking questions. Socrates would challenge assumptions, test definitions, and guide others toward aporia, that uneasy state of realizing one’s ignorance. That moment wasn’t meant to embarrass anyone; it was an invitation to think deeper (Conversational Leadership).

In today’s language, it’s like a respectful debate where both sides keep asking “why?” until the surface answers fall apart. It’s the opposite of the kind of arguing that happens on social media—less noise, more listening.

In ancient Athens, this habit set Socrates apart from the Sophists, the celebrity teachers of his time who taught the art of persuasion for money. They trained people to win arguments, not to seek truth. Their lessons focused on rhetorical tricks (eristic and antilogical methods), techniques that sounded smart but often confused more than they clarified. Socrates refused that path. He wanted clarity, not applause (Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy – The Sophists).

His student Plato (428–347 BCE) recorded those conversations and expanded what Socrates began. He developed the dialectic method—a cooperative form of dialogue where people test ideas through reasoned discussion rather than emotional debate.

(SIDE NOTE: It’s the same kind of exchange I try to create in the comment section of Morning Coffee Thoughts. Trying being the operative word, because keeping a space respectful and curious online is harder than it sounds.)

Plato believed reason could harmonize opposing views, and that a just society required citizens capable of seeing beyond appearances. His dialogues remind us that truth often hides behind illusion, and only a trained mind can tell the difference (Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy – Plato).

Then came Aristotle (384–322 BCE), Plato’s student, who transformed logic into a formal system. He created the syllogism, a structure where two statements lead to one logical conclusion—something like, All humans are mortal. Socrates is human. Therefore, Socrates is mortal. It sounds simple now, but at the time, it was groundbreaking. Aristotle mapped out how reasoning works and gave later generations the foundation for scientific thought (Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy – Aristotle, History of Logic, Britannica, Study.com on Aristotelian Logic).

Socrates questioned, Plato recorded, and Aristotle organized. Together, they gave the world a way to think—a framework that still echoes in classrooms, comment sections, and late-night debates. Real learning doesn’t start with knowing. It starts with curiosity strong enough to question.

The Modern Evolution: From Bacon to Kant to Dewey

The Renaissance cracked open a new way of thinking: test the world, don’t just quote it. From there, a line runs through Bacon, Descartes, Kant, the Enlightenment, and Dewey. Each one added a tool to the kit we now call critical thinking.

Francis Bacon (1561–1626) pushed back against the old habit of leaning on pure deduction. In Novum Organum (The New Instrument, 1620), he proposed inductive reasoning—the process of drawing general principles from many small observations—rather than starting with fixed theories and forcing facts to fit (Bookey PDF of Novum Organum, Fiveable study note).

If you’ve been reading Morning Coffee Thoughts for a while, you’ve probably noticed that I tend to write this way. I start from something ordinary—a quiet morning, a street conversation, a passing thought—and trace it to something larger. That’s inductive reasoning in action. You begin with what’s real and concrete, then slowly build toward understanding. It’s not a trick. It’s a habit of seeing patterns in small things until meaning takes shape.

Bacon named the “Four Idols” that distort our view: the Idols of the Tribe (human bias), the Cave (personal prejudice), the Marketplace (confusions of language), and the Theatre (dogmatic systems treated as absolute truth). These idols still stalk our feeds and classrooms today (Bookey PDF of Novum Organum).

René Descartes (1596–1650) answered confusion with methodic doubt—a systematic way of questioning everything that could possibly be doubted until only certainty remained. In Discourse on the Method and Meditations on First Philosophy, he stripped away all unreliable knowledge—tradition, sensory perception, even mathematics—until one truth stood firm: cogito, ergo sum (“I think, therefore I am”) (Britannica on methodic doubt, 1000-Word Philosophy, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy on Descartes’ epistemology, The Collector overview).

He doubted authority because authorities disagree. He doubted perception because dreams and illusions can deceive. He even doubted mathematics because human error is always possible. The goal was to rebuild knowledge only on what could survive the toughest possible test (Britannica on methodic doubt).

Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) mapped the limits of reason. In the Critique of Pure Reason (1781), he explored metaphysics—questions about what exists beyond the physical world—and asked how far the human mind can truly go. Kant’s goal was to discover the boundaries of knowledge: what we can know, what we can’t, and why we often mistake appearances for reality. He wanted to determine whether metaphysics itself was possible, along with its sources, scope, and boundaries (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy: Kant, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy: Reason in Kant, Philolibrary explainer).

Kant didn’t reject reason; he trained it to recognize its limits. That humility is part of critical thinking: knowing when your tools work, and when they start inventing answers they can’t actually prove (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy: Reason in Kant).

The Enlightenment (often called The Age of Reason) gathered all these threads. Thinkers championed freedom, inquiry, and skepticism toward authority. They called for individual rights, religious tolerance, and the separation of church and state. Every claim, institution, or belief was fair game for examination in the light of evidence and logic (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy: Enlightenment, Britannica overview, Fiveable study guide).

John Dewey (1859–1952) carried this spirit into modern education. He described critical thinking as reflective thinking—pausing before judgment, examining the process, and testing conclusions in community. For Dewey, thinking wasn’t private or abstract; it was social. Ideas grow stronger when people compare reasons, ask questions, and challenge each other respectfully (The Education Hub, UWE Repository).

For him, problem-solving alone wasn’t enough. He wanted students to examine how they solved problems, not just that they did. Reflection turns trial and error into learning, and discussion keeps that reflection honest. That’s the kind of habit I try to build here—when readers question my sources, challenge my points, and share their own reasoning, that’s Dewey at work in the comments section.

Critical Thinking in Philippine History: Was It Ever There?

This is where the question turns inward: was critical thinking ever truly part of our history, or did we import the concept later and call it ours?

The answer isn’t simple. Long before colonizers arrived, the Philippines already had structured societies with their own systems of governance, trade, and knowledge. We had alibata (or baybayin) as a writing system, a network of barangays that practiced collective decision-making, and active trade routes with China and Southeast Asia. But most of that intellectual heritage was lost—either destroyed during colonization or left unrecorded—so we can only glimpse how far that tradition of inquiry went (Philippine Social Science Review, The LaSallian).

The Spanish colonial period (1565–1898) reshaped how Filipinos thought—and not for the better. Spanish friars controlled education, teaching mostly catechism, obedience, and the Spanish language. The goal was not to nurture thought, but to preserve submission. Native knowledge systems were erased or branded as pagan. Historical records written by missionaries portrayed Filipinos as “uncivilized” souls waiting for salvation. Inquiry was discouraged because curiosity could lead to rebellion (TeacherPH, IJAMS).

When the Americans arrived in 1898, they brought a different kind of schooling—more accessible, but still colonial at its core. The new public education system made English the medium of instruction and built universities that mirrored American ones. It looked progressive, but as historian Renato Constantino argued in his essay The Miseducation of the Filipino, it was a calculated way to create “good colonials”: Filipinos who thought like Americans and saw their colonizers as saviors (UCSD – The Miseducation of the Filipino).

Constantino wrote that English became “the wedge that separated the Filipinos from their past and later to separate educated Filipinos from the masses.” Our textbooks celebrated Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson, but called Filipino revolutionaries “bandits.” Songs, stories, and even the idea of beauty became foreign. The water cure torture and the reconcentration camps under American occupation barely appeared in class materials (UCSD – The Miseducation of the Filipino).

This mindset hardened into colonial mentality—the belief that anything foreign, especially Western, is automatically better. That legacy still shows up today: schools named after Spanish saints and American presidents, English as the “respectable” language, and Western literature dominating reading lists. Studies describe this as an internalized inferiority, quietly passed from one generation to the next (IJAMS, TeacherPH).

Our classrooms then—and often still today—reward memorization and obedience more than analysis. A Reddit post once described it bluntly: the system “breeds obedient workers, not critical thinkers.” Students learn early that questioning a teacher risks being labeled pasaway. So they study to pass, not to understand. They memorize answers, not methods. They learn silence early and carry it into adulthood (Reddit – Unpopular Opinion PH, JCEPS Journal).

Colonial education left us fluent in English but hesitant in thought. It taught us to imitate before we could innovate. We learned how to speak well, but not how to question well. And that gap—between eloquence and depth—still shapes our politics, our classrooms, and our daily arguments online.

The Current State: Measuring the Crisis

If you want to understand where we stand today, the numbers tell the story—and it isn’t pretty.

The Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) 2022 ranked the Philippines near the bottom in reading, math, and science. PISA is an international exam given every three years by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD)—a global body of 38 member countries that sets education benchmarks used to compare learning outcomes worldwide.

Only 24% of Filipino students reached Level 2 or higher in reading literacy, the minimum proficiency for understanding long texts or distinguishing fact from opinion. The global average was 74%. Almost no Filipino students reached Level 5, the level that requires drawing meaning from context and inferring tone. The Philippines scored 353 in reading, far below the OECD average of 476 and Singapore’s 543 (OECD PISA 2022 Country Notes).

In creative thinking, Filipino students ranked among the weakest in the world, with an average score of 14 compared to the OECD average of 33. Only 3.4% reached Level 5 proficiency, while a third scored at the lowest level. The Philippines landed in the bottom four among 64 countries, earning the description “one of the weakest creative thinking skills in the world” (PhilSTAR).

The gap isn’t small. Only around 3% of Filipino students performed at the same level as the average student in Singapore, showing how far we’ve fallen behind our neighbors. Our scores in mathematics (355) and science (356) show the same pattern: far below the OECD averages of 472 and 485 respectively (OECD PISA 2022 Country Notes).

Beyond numbers, research reveals what those results mean. A study of 300 junior high school students found that while students were open to new ideas, they struggled with planning and organizing information—key parts of critical thinking. In short, they could accept differences but couldn’t process or structure data effectively (Science Education International).

Another study found that although critical thinking appears in the curriculum, it isn’t effectively taught. Classrooms rely heavily on lectures and repetition. Teachers face too many students, too few resources, and little time to encourage reflection. Many also lack training in reflective pedagogy (the art and method of teaching), leaving critical thinking as a concept on paper rather than a practice in the room (JCEPS Journal).

The government often talks about improving “competitiveness” or “21st-century skills,” but the reality inside classrooms feels older than that. Teachers are overworked, students are overwhelmed, and exams measure recall more than reasoning. It’s not laziness—it’s structure. The system rewards speed, not depth.

When we see fake news shared without pause or policies supported without scrutiny, these numbers make sense. A society that isn’t trained to think critically in school won’t magically do so online.

Why Critical Thinking Remains Rare: Cultural and Structural Barriers

We’ve seen how our history built an education system that values obedience. The harder question is why it stays that way.

Inherited Habits of Obedience

The same forces that shaped our classrooms a century ago still echo today. From Spanish catechism to American civics, generations were trained to follow rules, recite lessons, and avoid confrontation. Those habits never left—they simply changed uniforms.

We still see it in classrooms where questioning is mistaken for disrespect, in offices where compliance is praised more than insight, and in families where silence is safer than correction. Pakikisama (getting along) and respeto (respect) keep relationships peaceful but often at the cost of honest dialogue. Hiya (shame) discourages public disagreement, while amor propio (self-respect or dignity) can sometimes make people too guarded to accept criticism.

These cultural values aren’t the problem. The problem is how they’re used to discourage analysis. The same virtues that keep communities close can also keep them quiet. And when silence becomes a measure of good behavior, curiosity fades.

Our collective mindset still leans outward too. Colonial mentality—the belief that foreign systems and experts are automatically superior—feeds our dependence on imported answers. Many schools still center Western literature, Western logic, and Western heroes. Fluency in English is treated as proof of intelligence. We’ve inherited the shell of education, but not its spirit of questioning (IJAMS Journal, TeacherPH).

Critical Pedagogy

Critical pedagogy means teaching students not just what to know but how to question what they know. It’s a method that encourages reflection on power, context, and meaning—an idea popularized by Brazilian educator Paulo Freire, who saw education as a form of liberation rather than obedience.

In the Philippines, this approach remains rare. Teachers are expected to finish modules, not start discussions. The Community of Inquiry model—where students analyze, agree, and disagree without hostility—barely exists in local classrooms. Debate is seen as disorder instead of discovery (PhilArchive, JCEPS Journal).

Critical pedagogy works best when teachers have the time and trust to guide open conversations. But in an environment obsessed with coverage and compliance, it’s a luxury few can afford.

The Teacher’s Burden

Many Filipino teachers never learned to teach critical thinking because they were never taught to think critically in the first place. Their training focused on lesson plans and test results, not on inquiry or reflection. As a result, they pass on what they practiced—structured lectures, predictable questions, and answers that fit the key.

Studies show that low critical thinking skills among pre-service teachers (students training to become teachers) directly affect the quality of education that follows. Without proper guidance, even passionate educators default to rote methods because they seem safer and faster in crowded classrooms (RITQ Journal, Trinity University of Asia Blog, IIARI Journal).

The cycle feeds itself: teachers who weren’t trained to question now teach students not to question either. And that’s how obedience—once a survival skill under colonial rule—quietly became an educational norm.

The Digital Double-Edged Sword: Internet, Social Media, and Critical Thinking

The rise of the internet and social media gave Filipinos access to more information than any generation before us. It also opened the floodgates to manipulation. Technology became both the problem and the test of our thinking.

The Crisis: Disinformation as “Patient Zero”

The Philippines has been called “patient zero” in the global misinformation epidemic—a reference to how early and fast disinformation spread here. Free Facebook access, the dominance of YouTube, and the absence of strong fact-checking mechanisms turned social media into a Petri dish of falsehoods (Fulcrum SG, Wikipedia: Fake News in the Philippines).

Surveys show that 67% of Filipinos view disinformation as a serious national problem. Fake news sites have existed here since at least 2014. The platform’s design—rewarding shares and emotions over accuracy—made lies travel faster than facts (Wallace House, University of Michigan).

During the 2016 presidential campaign, disinformation became industrial. Political teams paid troll networks to flood timelines with propaganda, fake endorsements, and doctored videos. These operations blurred the line between opinion and manipulation.

By the 2022 elections, the machinery was fully professionalized, portraying Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. as the restorer of a “golden age” while downplaying the violence and theft of martial law.

Researchers call this the “architecture of networked disinformation”—a structured industry of political consultants, influencers, and “click armies” running coordinated campaigns for profit and power (RSIS International Journal, Fulcrum SG).

When Rodrigo Duterte was arrested in 2025 for alleged crimes against humanity, within hours, hundreds of pages posted identical claims that he had been “kidnapped.” The speed and uniformity of the message showed how deeply organized these networks are.

This system thrives precisely because our schools and culture haven’t trained us to pause, verify, or think through what we see. Emotional content hooks us first; analysis often never comes.

The Opportunity: Social Media as a Tool for Thinking

Yet the same platforms that spread lies can also strengthen reasoning. Research shows that when students use social media for study and discussion, their critical thinking improves. The key difference is purpose: why and how we use it (E-Journals PH, RSIS International Journal).

Students who join academic discussions online, share insights, or cross-check data with peers tend to develop better evaluation skills. When they engage with diverse perspectives instead of staying inside algorithmic echo chambers, their reasoning sharpens.

One study found a strong link between social media literacy—the ability to judge credibility and detect manipulation—and the growth of critical thinking itself. In short, social media can either train or trap the mind depending on how it’s used (E-Journals PH, Journal of Technology and Education Learning).

Filipino students, despite low global scores, remain highly curious. Eight out of ten say they enjoy learning new things and love exploring ideas in school. That curiosity is raw material for better thinking—it just needs direction (PhilSTAR).

The challenge is to shift how we use our feeds: less consumption, more conversation. Instead of reacting, reflect. Instead of scrolling, study. Because the same timeline that poisons the mind can also train it—if we choose to read slower and think longer.

How Political Bloggers Can Encourage Critical Thinking

As a political blogger, I know the responsibility that comes with every post. Each sentence can either sharpen minds or feed the noise. It’s easy to write rants, harder to build habits of thinking. Over the years, I’ve learned that the best way to teach critical thinking online isn’t through lectures—it’s through practice.

Lead by Example

The most powerful thing a writer can do is model discipline. I cite my sources, show my reasoning, and separate facts from opinion. If the data is incomplete, I say so. If I’m wrong, I correct it—publicly.

Readers notice consistency more than perfection. When they see you question your own assumptions, they learn that thinking critically doesn’t mean always being right. It means being willing to check. Transparency builds trust, and trust opens the door for better dialogue (Discourse Magazine, Paradigm Press).

Teach the Process, Not the Opinion

Most readers were never taught how to evaluate information. So I explain the small things: how to check a page’s source, how to use reverse image search, or how to spot a post that twists context. Sometimes I walk them through how I verified a claim so they can do the same on their own.

The goal is simple: help readers understand how to think through information instead of just reacting to it. Once people grasp the process, they start noticing weak arguments by themselves and learn to build stronger ones in return (MediaSmarts, PMC Journal).

Use Questions, Not Just Answers

Socrates taught by asking. His method still works online—just without the toga.

Questions like “Who benefits from this narrative?”, “What evidence would change your mind?”, or “What are we not being told?” make readers pause before reacting. These questions don’t trap anyone. They invite reflection, which is the heart of critical thinking (Conversational Leadership, Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy – The Sophists).

Build a Community of Inquiry

The comment section, when done right, can be a classroom. I try to keep mine that way. I highlight thoughtful comments even when they disagree with me. I moderate—not to silence dissent, but to make space for real discussion.

There’s a difference between disagreement and distortion. I welcome readers who argue in good faith, not those who spread propaganda or repeat scripted lies. Respectful debate has a place here; coordinated disinformation does not.

Online, tone spreads faster than truth. If one person argues respectfully, others follow. That’s how small communities of inquiry begin: people thinking together, disagreeing with care, and staying curious even when it gets heated (JCEPS Journal).

Celebrate Curiosity

Curiosity is underrated. Many Filipinos—especially students—already have it. They love learning new things and asking why. It just isn’t always rewarded.

Instead of feeding certainty, I try to reward curiosity. When readers share questions, I feature them. When someone admits they changed their mind, I thank them. That’s progress. Curiosity keeps the mind alive long after the post ends (PhilSTAR).

Root It in Filipino Values

Critical thinking doesn’t cancel pakikipagkapwa-tao (regard for others) or dangal (honor). It deepens them. To think clearly is to care deeply.

I remind my readers that checking facts before sharing protects others from harm. That courage to seek truth, even when it’s unpopular, is an act of dangal. And that patience to listen, even to opposing views, is a form of malasakit (compassion).

When we frame critical thinking as part of our identity—as something Filipino, not foreign—it starts to feel like common sense instead of rebellion (PhilArchive, JCEPS Journal).

Be Patient

Critical thinking grows slowly. Most of the time, readers won’t admit right away that something changed their view. But you see it later, in quieter ways—in how they start verifying sources, or how they ask questions instead of picking sides.

Teaching through writing means accepting that growth takes time. You don’t always see the impact, but every moment of pause matters. Because each time someone chooses to think before reacting, that’s one small victory against noise.

The Path Forward

After tracing the roots of critical thinking—from ancient philosophy to colonial classrooms—it’s easy to feel discouraged. The numbers don’t lie. Filipino students rank among the lowest in reading, science, and creative thinking. Our schools still reward obedience over analysis, memorization over understanding. The culture of silence, passed from one generation to another, keeps our public debates shallow (OECD PISA 2022, PhilSTAR).

But I still believe we can do better. The data may be sobering, but the curiosity is still there. PISA’s own report showed that 81% of Filipino students enjoy learning new things—a number far higher than our test scores suggest. That spark is the seed of critical thinking. We just haven’t learned how to water it yet.

History reminds us that critical thinking doesn’t appear naturally. Socrates built it through questioning. Bacon refined it through observation. Dewey taught it through reflection and community. Each one worked against habit, not with it. And that’s what we need again—a deliberate effort to replace repetition with reflection, fear with curiosity, and silence with honest exchange (Critical Thinking Foundation, The Education Hub).

Change begins where questions begin. That means rethinking how we teach, how we post, and how we talk to one another.

• Education reform should reward reasoning over memorization, so students learn to ask why before what (PhilSTAR).

• Teacher training should include the tools to guide reflection, not just lesson plans (RITQ Journal).

• Curriculum design should weave critical thinking into every subject, not treat it as a chapter in English or Social Studies (JCEPS Journal).

• Digital literacy programs should help citizens recognize manipulation before it spreads (MediaSmarts).

• And cultural renewal means learning to question with respect, disagree with care, and see thinking not as defiance, but as love of country.

As bloggers, educators, or readers, we can’t fix everything overnight. But each of us can model what it looks like to pause before reacting, to verify before sharing, and to ask before assuming. Every small act of curiosity adds weight to the side of reason.

The path is long, and the noise will always be loud. But each time someone slows down to think, the silence of understanding grows a little stronger. That, to me, is where democracy begins—not in shouting, but in listening long enough to question.