How Filipinos Argue: A Pyramid Framework for Philippine Political Discourse

I was at Freedom Park here in Cabanatuan one night, halfway through a bowl of lechon kawali pares, when I caught a conversation from the next table.

“Kaya nga DDS ako eh.”

No yelling. No debate. Just a casual drop—like he’d settled something big in his head.

The guy across from him didn’t even blink. He leaned in and said, “Bakit ka maniniwala doon? Kakampink? Bobo at tanga 'yon.”

Then nothing. Silence. Like they both knew that was the end of it.

That kind of exchange—short, loaded, and completely empty at the same time—has become normal. It's the same energy you see in comment sections. Or when people post something half-baked and dare anyone to challenge them. Most don’t bother replying anymore. What's the point?

We argue, but we don’t talk. We defend, but we don’t think. And when someone actually tries to explain something clearly, they either get ignored—or dragged.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot.

Maybe it's not just noise. Maybe there's a pattern. A hierarchy. Like Maslow’s pyramid, but for arguments. A way to map how we process political talk—how we protect our identity, avoid discomfort, or (if we’re lucky) move toward something more thoughtful.

This isn’t about who’s right or wrong. It’s about how Filipinos argue—and what that says about where we are, psychologically, as a country.

The Philippine Political Discourse Pyramid — A Framework Rooted in Psychology

As I was devouring my lechon kawali pares, I was also on my phone, scrolling through a post that mentioned Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. It wasn’t anything new—I’ve read about it before—but that night, the timing felt weird. Two men a few feet away throwing political barbs like darts, and here I was reading about how people move from survival to meaning.

It got me thinking.

What if there’s a similar structure, not for needs—but for how we argue? What if the way we talk about politics also moves in levels, from something reactive and emotional, all the way up to something more intentional, careful, and maybe even useful?

That post sent me down a rabbit hole. I wasn’t looking for ways to win arguments—I’ve outgrown that—but I did want to understand why so many people get stuck in the same shallow loop. Why even good people, smart people, fall into the habit of insulting instead of asking. This blog came out of that search.

Why a Pyramid?

It just made sense. The shape says everything.

At the base: loud, reactive, messy. That’s where most of the noise is. But it’s also where the thinking stops. As you move up: fewer voices, less ego, more effort.

It’s like Maslow’s triangle, where people move from just surviving to something deeper. But here, it’s not about hunger or safety. It’s about what kind of thinker you are when things get uncomfortable.

And the uncomfortable truth? Not everyone wants to climb.

Some stay where they feel safe. Where they always win. Where their beliefs are never questioned.

What This Pyramid Is Really About

This has nothing to do with which side you’re on.

DDS, Dilawan, indifferent, radical, centrist—it doesn’t matter. What matters is how you carry yourself when you argue.

Do you just parrot what your circle says?

Do you attack people instead of asking questions?

Do you drop links and quotes without checking if they even make sense?

Or do you slow down and really try to understand someone who disagrees with you—even if you still think they’re wrong?

This pyramid doesn’t track who’s right. It tracks how far you're willing to go to have a real conversation.

The Five Levels (Quick Look)

Here’s how it breaks down:

1. Tribal-Level Arguments – Identity over truth. Personal attacks, blind loyalty, misinformation.

2. Surface-Level Assertions – Slogans, memes, recycled lines. Feels deep but isn’t.

3. Partial Reasoning Debates – Some logic, but always one-sided. Cherry-picking dressed up as facts.

4. Balanced Discourse – Slower. Fairer. Willing to look at both sides.

5. Critical Thinking – Rare. Honest. Willing to admit “I could be wrong.”

Each level demands more from you. More thinking. More listening. More honesty. That’s why most people stay near the bottom.

Why Use Psychology to Explain This?

Because political arguments aren’t just about issues—they’re about identity, ego, insecurity, and belonging. The moment you disagree with someone, it’s not just a debate. For a lot of people, it feels like an attack on who they are.

That’s where psychology enters the picture. These aren’t just fancy theories. They're what explain the mess we're all sitting in.

• Identity-Protective Cognition
  According to Dan Kahan of Yale, people unconsciously reject evidence that threatens their group identity—even if it's true (Kahan, Informal Science).
  It’s why someone can see overwhelming proof and still say, “fake news 'yan.” It's not about facts. It’s about loyalty.

• System 1 and System 2 Thinking (Dual Process Theory)
  Your brain has two gears.
  System 1 is fast—emotional, reactive, impulsive.
  System 2 is slow—analytical, careful, deliberate (Learning Loop).
  Most political talk today runs on System 1. People react in seconds and rarely pause to think. Social media rewards speed, not reflection. That’s why memes spread faster than data ever will.

• Motivated Reasoning
  This is when people use reasoning not to find the truth, but to defend what they already believe (Wikipedia; Psychology Today).
  You want to be right, so your brain digs up whatever supports your point—and ignores the rest. The smarter you are, the better you get at bending logic to fit your bias.

• Cognitive Dissonance
  That uncomfortable feeling when reality challenges your beliefs.
  You vote for someone. They screw up. But instead of saying “mali pala ako,” you double down: “At least hindi siya corrupt. At least may nagawa.”
  It’s human—but it’s also dangerous when used to justify harm (Wikipedia).

• Social Identity Theory
  Our beliefs aren’t just ideas. They become part of who we are.
  So when someone criticizes your opinion, it feels like they’re attacking you personally (Oxford Reference; Psychology Today).
  That’s why people get defensive so fast. We don’t separate “what I believe” from “who I am.”

Understanding these ideas won’t fix the internet. But it can help you spot what’s happening beneath the surface when people argue—when you argue. And maybe that’s a start.

Next, we’ll look at Level 1—where the shouting is loudest, the insults fly fast, and thinking takes a backseat to loyalty.

Level 1 – Tribal-Level Arguments

You’ve seen this before.

A post goes up. Maybe a simple criticism of a government policy. Maybe a meme. Five minutes later, the comments turn into a warzone.
“Bobo.” “Bayaran.” “Kakampink.” “DDS ka kasi.”
No one’s reading anymore. They’re just swinging.

This is the bottom of the pyramid—the loudest and most crowded layer. Arguments here aren’t about policy or principles. They’re about belonging. Who’s on your side. Who you hate. Who you trust without question.

And once you pick a side, anything said by “the other” automatically becomes wrong—even if it’s true.

What This Looks Like

This is the space where arguments aren’t really arguments. They’re loyalty tests. Your side posts something—doesn’t matter if it’s half-baked or totally wrong—and your job is to defend it, not question it. You disagree? You must be the enemy.

You don’t see counterpoints. You see name-calling.

You don’t hear curiosity. You hear battle cries.

One of the clearest examples of this is the Diehard Duterte Supporters (DDS) behavior online. They’re known not for their policy arguments, but for their “uninhibited use of rabid and vitriolic speech, which mirrors Duterte’s own,”according to the Wikipedia entry on DDS.

A specific case: when the International Criminal Court (ICC) ordered Duterte’s arrest, supporters didn’t question the evidence. Instead, they flooded ICC Judge Iulia Motoc’s LinkedIn profile with insults, claiming she was a puppet, a “Marcos relative,” or just another elite out to get the Philippines (Wikipedia). No facts. Just rage.

That kind of behavior isn’t just online noise—it’s psychological armor.

Why People Do This (According to Psychology)

Identity-Protective Cognition, coined by Yale Law Professor Dan Kahan, explains this best: people aren’t defending truth—they’re defending their tribe. When your beliefs become part of your group identity, any threat to those beliefs feels personal. So the brain filters out evidence automatically, without you even realizing it (Kahan, Informal Science).

Social Identity Theory builds on that. It says people define themselves by their group memberships—and exaggerate the flaws of outsiders while glorifying their own. That’s why a DDS supporter can say “Eh kasi dilawan yan, wala nang silbi kausap” without actually listening to what was said (Oxford Reference).

Then there’s the Online Disinhibition Effect. People talk online in ways they’d never do in person. The screen creates a wall. There's no eye contact. No consequence. You don’t have to see the hurt in someone’s face—you just hit send and scroll away (Wikipedia).

It’s how we ended up with TikTok channels livestreaming half-baked political commentary, turning rage into content. The New York Times even reported how misinformation in the Philippines was spread through live video by influencers supporting Duterte and Marcos. They weren’t debating—they were performing.

The Filipino Context

In the Philippines, we’ve always had a soft spot for the malakas. The strongman. The leader who doesn’t explain, just acts.
It’s cultural, rooted in pre-colonial systems where tribal chiefs led through power displays and unquestioned loyalty. That DNA never really went away.

Our political loyalty is often personal, not ideological. People support personalities, not platforms. Duterte. Marcos. Leni. BBM. Sara. Arguments aren’t built around positions—they’re built around people. That’s why defending your “idol” becomes the default mode, even when it makes no sense.

And when you grow up in a culture where calling someone “bobo” wins more reactions than asking a serious question, you learn quickly which kind of talk gets rewarded.

Why This Level Is So Common

Because it’s easy.

You don’t need to read. You don’t need to think. You just need to be loyal—and loud.

Tribal-level arguments are emotionally satisfying. They make you feel powerful, connected, righteous. Social media feeds off that energy. The angrier you get, the more engagement your post receives. That’s how the algorithm works.

It’s the path of least resistance. Why build a bridge when you can throw a grenade?

What This Level Costs Us

This level feels good. But it wrecks everything.

It shuts down conversations that could’ve gone somewhere.

It reduces real issues into name-calling matches.

And worst of all, it teaches people—especially the young ones—that political talk is a zero-sum game. That you either attack or get attacked. That questions are signs of betrayal. That silence is safer than speaking up.

The truth is, people don’t have to agree. But if we can’t even make space to listen, we’re not really arguing anymore—we’re just repeating scripts.

The bottom of the pyramid is where it begins. But it doesn't have to be where we stay.

Level 2 – Surface-Level Assertions

Not all bad arguments are loud. Some just sound good enough.

“At least may nagawa siya.”
“Tapang at malasakit.”
“Kahit corrupt, may puso.”
“Hindi siya perfect, pero siya ang kailangan natin.”

You’ll hear these in classrooms, tricycle terminals, offices, and in the comment section of every viral political post. They're clean. They're safe. They sound deep—until you stop and ask what they actually mean.

This is the second level of the pyramid. It’s not as aggressive as the tribal base. It even feels more civil. But the thinking behind it? Still shallow.

Surface-level assertions are the slogans, one-liners, and talking points we repeat without checking if they’re true—or if we even understand them. They make people sound confident. But they don’t invite discussion. They shut it down with style.

What This Looks Like

A neighbor once told me, “At least si BBM hindi bastos.” That was the whole argument. No mention of qualifications, no question about his track record—just a vague idea that sounding polite was enough.

Same goes for people defending candidates because they’re “clean-looking,” “God-fearing,” or “di gaya ng iba.” Sometimes the candidate hasn’t even spoken, but the public’s already clinging to their image.

Online, this level thrives through memes and edited quote cards. Even long posts fall into this trap when they’re just repeating the same recycled lines, dressed up to look like commentary.

The words may change. The shallowness doesn’t.

Why People Do This (According to Psychology)

This level feels like thinking—but it isn’t. It’s more like mental autopilot.

Motivated reasoning explains a lot of it. When we come across new information, we’re supposed to weigh it fairly. But most of us don’t. We accept what confirms what we already believe, and reject what threatens it—even if the argument is solid. Our brain twists “thinking” into defending a belief, not testing it (Wikipedia; Psychology Today).

And when those beliefs are packed into catchy lines, we treat them like shields.

Underneath that is System 1 thinking—our brain’s fast and automatic response mode. It doesn’t stop to verify, compare, or slow down. It just reacts. It’s the part of us that replies “bahala na” in traffic instead of checking a map. Convenient, emotional, impulsive (Learning Loop).

That’s what most surface-level arguments are: quick replies that feel true because they match how we already feel.

The Filipino Context

We’re a slogan-driven nation. From “Erap para sa mahirap” to “Gobyernong may puso” to “Tapang at malasakit”—these phrases have shaped elections, not platforms.

One study from Davao del Norte found that campaign slogans and jingles often use “striking, deceiving, and powerful words to convince people,” especially in places where access to policy information is limited (E-Palli Journal).

It’s not just in politics. Our ads, church sermons, and even morning show interviews favor emotionally loaded phrases. You can win votes with a hugot line, but good luck selling policy reform in three words.

And when critical thinking isn’t encouraged early—when schools prioritize obedience over discussion—people grow up valuing catchiness over content.

That’s not stupidity. That’s conditioning.

Why This Level Is So Widespread

Because it’s easy. Because it feels like you’re participating in political talk—even when you’re just echoing what you saw on a poster.

Unlike the tribal base, this level doesn’t rely on rage. It runs on emotional comfort. The phrases feel good to say. They feel right. They offer closure without the burden of thinking deeply.

And on platforms like Facebook, TikTok, and Twitter? This kind of content thrives. Short. Emotional. Shareable. No nuance required.

Even smart people fall into this when they’re tired, overwhelmed, or just want to feel like they’re doing their part. A one-liner is quicker than a real conversation.

What This Level Costs Us

Surface-level assertions feel harmless. But they’re not.

They blur the line between truth and branding.

They let public figures escape accountability because their followers already memorized the script.

They make it harder to talk about real issues—poverty, corruption, education, climate change—because the conversation never gets past the surface.

They reward people who speak well, not those who think well.

And worst of all, they trick us into thinking we’re informed, when we’ve just memorized someone else’s marketing.

This level looks polite. But it’s still a wall. Still a way to avoid complexity. Still a way to stop thinking.

Next, we’ll talk about what happens when people try to argue “smarter”—but only go halfway.

That’s Level 3.

Level 3 – Partial Reasoning Debates

This is where things start to sound smart. On the surface, at least.

The comments are longer. The tone is calmer. The arguments are sprinkled with facts, numbers, or historical references. But if you look closely, most of it is still just bias in a nicer outfit.

This is the middle of the pyramid. It’s where people start using “evidence”—but only the parts that fit the story they want to tell.

And they tell it not to understand. They tell it to win.

What This Looks Like

You’ll hear it from people who insist they’ve “done their research.”

“Marcos built hospitals, roads, the Heart Center. Stop bringing up Martial Law—it’s all propaganda.”

“Hindi si Leni ang problema. The people just weren’t ready for a leader like her. Kita mo naman sa Google Trends, di ba?”

They cite survey results when it favors their candidate—but dismiss those same surveys when they don’t. They post screenshots of articles they didn’t finish reading. They compare corruption scandals as if it’s a contest of who stole less.

These aren’t trolls. Most of them are sincere. Some are even well-read. But the reasoning is still one-sided. The goal isn’t clarity—it’s defense.

Why People Do This (According to Psychology)

Let’s start with cognitive dissonance—that mental tension you feel when something challenges your beliefs. Instead of changing your mind, your brain does gymnastics to protect itself.
You vote for someone. They screw up. But instead of admitting it, you look for ways to soften the damage.
“Yes, he’s corrupt—but at least he built something.”
“Lahat naman sila may baho.”
(Wikipedia – Cognitive Dissonance)

It’s not always conscious. In fact, studies show people often don’t realize they’re doing it.

Then there’s defense motivation—a type of reasoning where people process information with the goal of confirming what they already believe. The American Psychological Association published a study showing that people selectively interpret facts when those facts threaten their political identity (APA Open).

And maybe the most surprising part: emotion often beats education. That same study found that emotional response predicted how people processed political information more than their level of cognitive ability or even political alignment.

So even smart people aren’t immune. In fact, they might be even better at building arguments that protect their biases.

The Filipino Context

If you’ve ever been in a conversation about Marcos, you’ve probably seen this in action.

Supporters will talk about infrastructure, discipline, and “the golden years.” Detractors will talk about human rights abuses, hidden wealth, and the dictatorship. Both sides use facts. But they use them like weapons, not tools.

Same thing happens with presidential surveys.

If their bet is on top, they’ll share it like it’s gospel truth.
If their bet is losing? “Bayad ang media. SWS is biased.”

I’ve seen people switch from defending to denying the same source—just because the numbers changed. That’s not reason. That’s panic disguised as logic.

It’s not unique to one camp. Lahat tayo guilty minsan.

Why This Level Feels Smart (But Isn’t Fully)

Partial reasoning looks clean. It sounds calm. But it’s still closed.

The difference between this and surface-level arguments is tone. Here, people try to sound rational. They bring charts, comparisons, quotes. But underneath, it’s still “I’m right, and I’ll prove it—no matter what.”

That’s why it’s dangerous. It feels like progress, but it’s still locked in ego.

Being wrong feels too heavy. So instead of adjusting, people cling harder to their version of “truth.” That’s why cherry-picked data thrives here. It lets people feel informed, without the discomfort of uncertainty.

What This Level Costs Us

This is the illusion of critical thinking.

It rewards people who sound logical—even if their logic is one-sided. It creates debates that go in circles. It fills newsfeeds with long posts that feel convincing, but never consider the full picture.

No one really listens. They just wait to respond.

And the sad part? This is where many of us stop climbing. It feels like we’ve reached the thinking stage—but we haven’t. We’ve just learned how to defend ourselves better.

I’ve seen people post long threads with sources, stats, and commentary—only to snap at the first person who disagrees.

The effort is there. The openness isn’t.

If there’s a turning point in this pyramid, it’s here. You either double down on your version of the truth—or you start asking: what am I missing?

That question leads somewhere harder.

But also better.

Level 4 – Balanced Discourse

There’s something disarming about talking to someone who disagrees with you—but still listens.

Not the performative kind. Not someone who waits for their turn to speak, or preps their comeback while you're still mid-sentence. I’m talking about the rare kind of person who says, “I don’t see it that way, but I get why you do.” Then pauses, not to win, but to think.

You don’t see this every day. You might go months without it. But when it happens, it stays with you.

Balanced discourse is that rare space where conversation becomes collaboration. Not agreement—but engagement. It’s not about meeting in the middle for the sake of being nice. It’s about being honest, deliberate, and curious—without slipping into ego or tribal reflexes.

What This Looks Like

It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t trend. And it rarely fits in a TikTok video.

But it’s there.

It’s in a friend who calls out a politician they support because “we deserve better.”
It’s in a comment that pushes back respectfully, not with “source?” or “bobo mo,” but with “Have you also considered…?”
It’s in older people who’ve lived through multiple administrations and no longer see politics as a sport.

Sometimes it even shows up in places you don’t expect. A low-profile journalist writing about policy from multiple angles. A teacher explaining both sides of a debate without telling the class what to believe. A tricycle driver who says, “Walang perpektong lider. Pero dapat parehas nating bantayan kahit sino ang maupo.”

Balanced discourse doesn’t flatter your ego. It makes you slow down. Reconsider. Maybe even soften.

What Psychology Says About This

Getting to this level isn’t natural. It’s chosen.

It takes intellectual humility—the willingness to say, “I might be wrong.” Not to perform it, but to really feel it.

It also means pushing back against group polarization—the psychological tendency for people in echo chambers to grow more extreme over time (Verywell Mind). Balanced thinkers spot that pattern and step outside of it—sometimes quietly, sometimes at the cost of being called “walang paninindigan.”

And none of that’s possible without emotional regulation. The APA study I mentioned earlier showed that emotional reaction shapes political reasoning more than education does (APA Open). If you can't catch your own triggers, you’ll keep mistaking offense for threat—and reason for betrayal.

Balanced discourse is emotional self-awareness applied to politics.

The Filipino Cultural Reaction

Here in the Philippines, balance isn’t always admired.

You speak in the middle? People assume you’re indecisive. You say “may point naman siya kahit hindi ako sang-ayon,” and someone will reply with, “So ano ka, dilawan? DDS? Nagpapa-neutral ka lang kasi ayaw mong mabash.”

We’ve been trained to pick a side quickly. To wear color as identity. To speak with conviction even when we haven’t processed anything yet. That’s why nuance often gets dismissed as weakness—or worse, hypocrisy.

And it cuts both ways.

If you criticize Duterte, you're suddenly labeled pro-Marcos. If you criticize Marcos, you're automatically tagged as a Kakampink—even if all you did was ask a valid question. And even among Kakampinks, there's a lingering frustration over this kind of lazy labeling. Because while we fight for Leni, Risa, Bam, Kiko, Leila, or Chel, we’re not fighting because of them.

We're not doing this for the politician. We're doing it for the country. The faces may represent the cause, but they are not the cause itself.

But that distinction gets lost in polarized spaces. People think if you're calm and reasonable, you’re trying to be safe. Or worse—trying to play both sides.

Sometimes, being fair makes you invisible.

Or hated by both camps.

But sometimes, not being easily labeled is the clearest sign that you’re actually thinking.

Why It Matters

Balanced discourse doesn’t always change minds.

But it opens windows.

It lets people see that political conversations don’t have to end in division. That being firm and being fair aren’t opposites. That it’s possible to believe something strongly—without having to crush the person who believes the opposite.

At this level, you're no longer trying to win. You're trying to understand.

And that alone changes the temperature of the conversation.

It doesn't make you soft. It means you’ve learned that yelling louder isn’t a substitute for clarity.

The climb gets quieter from here.

But not weaker.

Between the Noise and the Climb (A reflection)

Sometimes I wonder how many people are stuck just one level below where they really want to be.

They’ve stopped insulting. They’ve stopped parroting slogans. They’ve even started asking questions. But they’re still holding something back.

Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe they just don’t know what it looks like to really change your mind in public—and still keep your dignity.

Balanced discourse isn’t the end of the road. It’s the threshold.

The next level isn’t louder. It’s quieter.

It’s where we stop needing to be right all the time—and start caring more about getting it right, even if that means unlearning things we’ve carried for years.

Not everyone wants to go there.

But those who do?

You can tell the difference.

Not in what they say, but in how they say it.

Level 5 – Critical Thinking

This is the part most people never reach.

Not because they can’t—but because it’s uncomfortable. There’s no rush of validation. No tribal backup. No applause. Just you, your thoughts, and the weight of asking yourself: What if I’m wrong?

Critical thinking isn’t about being smart. It’s not about quoting philosophers or knowing statistics. It’s about being deliberate. Slowing down. Looking at your own beliefs with the same sharpness you use on others.

And when the facts change, you change your mind.

Not for clout.

Not to play safe.

But because truth matters more than loyalty.

What This Looks Like

People at this level rarely go viral. They don’t post for engagement. They post to explore, to question, to think out loud.

They say things like:

“I used to support him. But looking at it now, I missed a lot.”
“I was too harsh before—I see it differently now.”
“I’m still forming my opinion, but here’s what I’ve learned so far.”

They’re not easily labeled. They might agree with a politician on one issue and call them out on another. They might read sources from different camps. They might even say “I don’t know”—without flinching.

That kind of honesty confuses people.

But it’s the clearest sign of growth.

What Psychology Says About This

To reach this level, your brain has to do something it doesn’t like doing: resist shortcuts.

Most of us rely on System 1 thinking—fast, emotional, reactive. But critical thinking demands System 2—the slow, careful kind that takes effort and energy (Learning Loop).

You also have to fight motivated moral reasoning—that tendency to bend our sense of right and wrong depending on who we’re defending (Notre Dame). If your morals only work when your group benefits, they’re not morals. They’re marketing.

And even the smartest people hit a wall. Research shows we’re not infinitely capable of bending logic to protect ourselves. Eventually, the brain runs out of ways to justify things that don’t make sense (PubMed). That’s when some people shut down.

Others wake up.

Why It’s Rare

Because this level asks for something that tribalism, slogans, and partial reasoning never do: ego sacrifice.

It’s easier to defend than to re-evaluate. Easier to memorize than to examine. Easier to stay loyal than to walk away.

Critical thinkers often lose friends. They get accused of “flipping.” Of being fence-sitters. Of being too intellectual, too nuanced, or too soft.

But most of them aren’t soft. They’re just tired of noise.

And they’ve made peace with the idea that truth won’t always feel good. That sometimes, progress starts with saying, “I no longer believe what I used to.”

The Cultural Struggle

In Filipino culture, we’re taught that humility is a virtue.

But not in politics.

In politics, humility gets misread as weakness. Changing your mind is seen as betrayal. Being fair gets interpreted as being fake. And being cautious is confused with being walang paninindigan.

That’s why critical thinkers often walk alone. They don’t belong to any camp. They vote on principle, not personality. They listen to ideas, not just tone. They don’t shout down opposition—they dissect it.

They don’t always get noticed.

But they’re often the ones who change minds. Quietly. Permanently.

Why It Matters

This level doesn’t offer comfort. But it offers clarity.

It’s the only place on the pyramid where dialogue can become discovery. Where disagreements become starting points—not dead ends. Where democracy can grow—not just survive.

And no, you won’t stay here all the time. None of us do.

But if you’ve ever sat with your own bias, felt it twitch, and still chose to open the door to a new way of seeing—that’s what it looks like up here.

It’s not loud.

But it’s honest.

And that alone makes it worth reaching for.

Conclusion: Climbing Isn’t the Point—But Knowing Where You Stand Is

I keep thinking about that night at Freedom Park. The lechon kawali pares. The two men tossing political barbs like it’s just another Tuesday.

DDS ako eh.
Bakit ka maniniwala doon? Kakampink? Bobo at tanga 'yon.

It was all so quick. So automatic. Like breathing.

They weren’t trying to convince each other. They were just marking territory.

Since then, I’ve been wondering—not just about what people believe, but how they defend it. How we argue. How we retreat. How we perform intelligence without actually using it.

This pyramid isn’t about judging others from the top. It’s about seeing the structure for what it is. Most people won’t climb. Some don’t want to. Others don’t know how.

We move up. We slip down. We overreact. We catch ourselves. We remember the value of thinking—but sometimes, only after forgetting it first.

So if you’re reading this and asking, “Where am I on the pyramid?”—that’s already the right question.

Even the most thoughtful person gets tired, triggered, or tempted to take shortcuts. You catch yourself liking a comment not because it’s true—but because it made you feel seen. You share something spicy before you’ve had time to verify it. You snap.

Then you climb again.

That’s the real work—not staying at the top, but returning to it. Each level has gravity. The lower ones pull hard. But once you’ve seen what’s possible above the noise, it gets harder to stay where the shouting lives.

So if you ever wonder what kind of thinker you are, don’t just ask what you believe.

Ask how you argue.

That answer says more than any side you’ve ever chosen.

The point isn’t to stay above everyone.

The point is to stop mistaking noise for discourse.

To stop treating slogans like evidence.

To stop thinking a loud comment is the same as a good one.

And to start treating disagreement as something more than war.

Not for civility’s sake.

But for the country we keep saying we care about.