How to Talk to Family and Friends Who Support Corrupt Politicians

There are moments when I sit across from someone I respect, a colleague or a friend, and I look at them and feel a physical distance that has nothing to do with space. They are praising a politician who I know, based on court records and history, has plundered this country. And they say it with a smile. They say it with conviction.

It's not just a difference of opinion anymore. It feels like a difference in reality.

Mahirap. Nakakapagod.

There's a part of me that wants to scream facts at them. To lay out the COA reports, the convictions, the news clippings. But I've tried that. We've all tried that. It usually ends with a slammed door or awkward silence that lasts until the next team meeting or dinner party.​​

So I stopped trying to win the debate. I started trying to understand the person.

I wanted to know: Why do good people support bad leaders? And how do we talk to them without losing our minds or our relationships?​

The Facebook Version and the Real-Life Version

On Facebook, I keep strict rules. I fact-check. I document. I hold politicians accountable with sources and receipts. It's necessary work, and a lot of disinformation research shows how important accurate content and fact-checking are online (The Polarizing Impact of Political Disinformation and Hate Speech).

But I don't allow the DDS there. Data tells me their behavior, attitude, and practice are destructive. Online, I treat them as pests. I don't engage with them. I block them. I move on. Studies on troll farms and political trolls show that many accounts are coordinated and are rewarded by engagement, not truth (The Polarizing Impact of Political Disinformation and Hate Speech).

In real life, I am the opposite.

Face-to-face conversation with folks is where I use a specific skill, to talk to them without sounding like I'm debating, aggressive, or like I already know all the answers. Without sounding like I have all the moral high ground. Without sounding like I'm preaching from a pulpit. Without sounding dismissive of where they're coming from (Managing conversations when you disagree politically).

That's where I subliminally inject doubt about their politicians. That's where I plant questions that make them think. That's where I sow seeds of critical thinking and awareness about what's actually happening (Deep canvassing).

Because here's what I've learned: your barber doesn't care about your rhetoric. Your security guard doesn't care about your perfect arguments. The egg vendor at the Cabanatuan market doesn't need to be destroyed in debate. They need to be seen.

And when you see them, something changes.

I convinced my barber to look at good governance. Not because I cited studies, but because I asked him about his kids' future. I got the security guard at a restaurant to doubt and question politicians, not by lecturing him, but by asking what he'd witnessed in his job. I got the egg vendor to always be questioning, not by attacking her choices, but by asking her why she thinks things cost so much (Resources – Deep Canvass Institute).

The goal was never to favor a politician. Never. The goal was to favor the Philippines and protect its interests against enemies both foreign and domestic.

And that only happens when you speak to people like they matter. Like their mind is worth winning, not like they're already lost.

The Reformer's Paradox

Here's the thing about people who care about good governance. They usually have facts on their side. They've read the reports. They've connected the dots. They know what's happening (Accountability deficit: Why do citizens vote for corrupt politicians?).

So they lead with argument.

They think: if I just present the evidence clearly enough, they'll see it. If I cite the right sources, they'll understand. If I'm thorough and rigorous, they'll change their mind.

But that's not how people work.

When you approach someone with an argument, even a correct one, they don't hear "here's what I discovered." They hear "you're wrong and I'm here to prove it." Their brain goes into defense mode. The wall goes up. The facts bounce off. This pattern shows up again and again in research on motivated reasoning and affective polarization (Motivated reasoning) (Motivated Political Reasoning: The Emergence of Partisan Bias).

Most reformers sound like prosecutors. And most people don't want to be prosecuted by someone they see at the market or sit next to at work.

I see this everyday on social media from pro-good governance content creators. They are constantly on an all-out war mode, educational and informative, sure, but aggressive. The problem? We should have learned this during the 2016 election. This approach is ineffective. Studies of online political conflict show that antagonistic exchanges harden positions instead of softening them (When debates break apart: discursive polarization as a multi-dimensional process) (The Polarizing Impact of Political Disinformation and Hate Speech).​

It's not just the approach. It's the platform.

You're arguing with a paid troll, and the more you make patol, the more you incite rage in the algorithm. You're feeding the machine that's designed to keep people divided. You're amplifying the very thing you're trying to fight. You're not fighting corruption. You're funding it. And the more you engage, the more the algorithm rewards conflict. You're not changing minds. You're creating content for the rage machine. Every reply, every counter-argument, every fact-check just makes the whole thing louder and angrier (The Polarizing Impact of Political Disinformation and Hate Speech).

The irony is brutal. The people trying hardest to save the country are often the ones pushing people away. They're right about the facts. They're wrong about the approach.

You can be factually correct and relationally ineffective at the same time.

That's the gap we need to close.

The Struggling Team Lead

Before all of this, I spent years as a team lead in the BPO industry. Part of my job was to coach agents when they failed a call, missed a target, or got customer complaints. I don't claim to have been a good TL. I don't claim to be an expert. The most honest way to describe my experience is this: I was struggling (Call Center Agent Coaching Tips for Improving Performance).

But the lesson about coaching is something I can never forget.

In the call center world, you learn different coaching techniques. There are models and frameworks, ways to structure a conversation so the other person doesn't shut down (Coaching Models Used to Structure a Conversation). One of the most basic, and still one of the most useful for me, is the sandwich technique.

The idea is simple. You start with something positive. Then you introduce the hard part, the issue that needs to be addressed. Then you end with something positive again, or at least something affirming. Appreciation, concern, shared goals (The Feedback Sandwich Technique in 3 Easy Effective Steps) (The sandwich technique: how to deliver criticism).

In the office, it looked like this:
"Maganda yung rapport mo with the customer. You made them feel heard. But we need to work on following the process, because we missed a few key steps there. Still, I can see you care about helping people, and that's something we can build on."

When I talk politics with people now, I use the same structure.

I start with what I genuinely admire in them. Their love for their family. Their desire for order. Their frustration with crime and corruption. I name it. I honor it.

Then I bring in the issue. I ask how those values fit with a politician who steals, lies, or abuses power. I ask how they feel about taxpayer money going to mansions and luxury cars instead of hospitals and schools (The Psychology of Corruption) (The cognitive psychology of corruption).

Then I go back to common ground. I remind them that we both want a safer, fairer Philippines. I tell them I’m not against them. I’m against the people who are using them. I leave them with dignity, not shame.

Here's how that looks in a political conversation.

Let’s say I'm talking to someone who supports a corrupt strongman.

I might start with the top slice of the sandwich, the affirmation:
"Alam mo, I really get why you like him. You want discipline. You’re tired of crime. You want someone who looks decisive. I respect that, and I know it comes from a place of wanting safety for your family."

Then I bring in the hard part, the issue:
"What I struggle with is, habang ginagawa niya yan, ang daming ebidensya na nagnanakaw din siya, or pinapayagan yung mga kakampi niya na mang-abuso. Ang sakit isipin na yung pera na dapat napupunta sa ospital, sa eskwela, napupunta sa bulsa ng iilan."

Then I close with the bottom slice, the common ground and hope:
"Kaya ako maingay minsan is not because I look down on you or sa choice mo. It’s because gusto ko rin yung gusto mo, a safer and more decent Philippines. If we can have someone strong and disciplined without stealing, doon talaga ako lalaban. Same team tayo doon."

No shouting. No labeling. Just affirmation, truth, and shared hope, in that order. Communication and teaching research shows that feedback framed within care and shared goals is more likely to be heard (Is the Sandwich Method Getting Stale? Fresh Approaches to Providing Constructive Feedback).

That’s coaching. Not because I’m above them, but because I know what it feels like to be corrected while already struggling. I know how painful it is to be told you’re wrong without being told you’re still worth working with.

But this is just one part of the conversation. It’s a tool, not a script. Something you can reach for when you’re struggling with a family member, a friend, or a colleague who seems closed off and ready to argue.

The trick is not to be obvious that you’re doing a sandwich technique. If they feel coached, they’ll resist it. If it feels natural, they’ll stay with you.

It helps to practice it, quietly, in everyday moments, so it becomes muscle memory. That way, when you’re suddenly face-to-face with an aggressive debater from the wrong side of the fence, you don’t default to war mode. You default to coaching mode.

And if there’s anything my time as a struggling TL taught me, it’s this: people change more when they feel guided, not when they feel crushed.

It's Not About Intelligence

It's easy to dismiss them as "bobotante" or brainwashed. But that's lazy thinking. And it's arrogant.

The reality is messier.

According to Bob Altemeyer, a psychology professor at the University of Manitoba who spent his career studying authoritarianism, this is often about a personality trait called "Right-Wing Authoritarianism" (RWA) (The authoritarian follower personality) (Authoritarian personality). It's not about being "right-wing" in the political sense, but about a psychological need for order, obedience, and social cohesion.

People high in this trait aren't necessarily "bad." They value safety. They crave structure. When the world feels chaotic, crime, poverty, uncertainty, they don't look for a policy wonk. They look for a strongman. They look for a Tatay who will discipline the "pasaway" (The Authoritarian Personality).

They are willing to overlook corruption because, in their calculation, the corruption is the price of order. Studies in South Africa, Mexico, and other countries show that voters sometimes knowingly support corrupt politicians when they believe those politicians deliver concrete benefits or protect their group (Why Do Voters Support Corrupt Politicians? Experimental Evidence from South Africa) (Why do voters forgive corrupt politicians).

Then there's the "Cynicism Trap."

Researchers from places like Harvard University and anti-corruption institutes have studied why voters support openly corrupt candidates. Their findings are heartbreaking. It's not that supporters like corruption. It's that they believe everyone is corrupt (Cynicism and Voter Support for Openly Corrupt Candidates) (Accountability deficit: Why do citizens vote for corrupt politicians?).

If you believe every politician is a thief, you stop voting for the "honest" one, because he doesn't exist in your mind. You vote for the thief who is "our thief." The one who builds a bridge in your town. The one who gave your cousin a job (If voters want clean politicians, why do they vote for the corrupt?).

It's transactional. It's survival.

"Pare-pareho lang naman sila," they tell me. "At least ito, may nagagawa."

That's not stupidity. That's a defense mechanism against hopelessness.

The Tribal Brain

We also have to talk about Social Identity Theory and tribal psychology.

We are tribal creatures. Millions of years of evolution taught us that being kicked out of the tribe means death. Today, political parties, fan bases, and online communities have become our tribes. Political identity can fuse with religion, class, and region, making it feel like part of the self (Understanding Tribal Psychology and Identity) (A Cultural Psychologist Demystifies Our Powerful Tribal Instincts).

When you attack their politician, you aren't just attacking a public servant. You are attacking their identity. You are attacking their judgment, their values, their sense of self.

This triggers Motivated Reasoning, a concept heavily researched by psychologists like Ziva Kunda and many others (Motivated reasoning) (Motivated formal reasoning: Ideological belief bias in political judgment). It means our brains work overtime to protect our existing beliefs. When they see news about their idol's corruption, their brain doesn't say, "Oh, I was wrong." It says, "This is an attack. Defend" (The Role of Motivated Reasoning in Partisanship).

Facts don't penetrate that shield. They just make the shield thicker. Neuroscience and political psychology studies show that threatening someone's group identity can increase loyalty to that group, even in the face of contrary evidence (Neural Predictors of Changes in Party Closeness after Exposure to Political Ads) (Introduction: Affective Polarization in Comparative Perspective).

So, How Do We Talk?

If facts don't work, what does?

For that, I look at people like Marshall Rosenberg, a clinical psychologist and the founder of Nonviolent Communication (NVC). His work focuses on replacing blame and judgment with observations, feelings, needs, and requests, to reduce defensiveness and build connection (Nonviolent Communication) (Marshall Rosenberg: Nonviolent Communication).

And then there’s Peter Boghossian and the practice of Street Epistemology. It’s a method inspired by the Socratic tradition that uses curious, non-confrontational questions to help people examine how confident they are in their beliefs and what evidence they rely on (What is "Street Epistemology"? (Part 1)) (Street Epistemology).

Organizers using Deep Canvassing, studied by political scientists like David Broockman and Joshua Kalla, show that patient, story-based, 10–20 minute conversations can create small but measurable shifts in views on divisive issues (Deep canvassing) (KEY FINDINGS – People's Action Deep Canvass Political Persuasion Experiment).

Here is what the experts suggest, and how I've tried to apply it.

1. Stop Trying to Persuade. Start Trying to Understand.

The moment they smell that you are trying to change their mind, the wall goes up. Research on political conflict shows that perceived persuasion attempts heighten resistance (Managing conversations when you disagree politically).

Instead of: "How can you support him? He's a thief!"
Try, Street Epistemology approach: "I'm curious, on a scale of 1 to 10, how confident are you that he's the best choice? What makes you feel that confident?" (Street Epistemology) (Spectrum Street Epistemology: How to Be Less Wrong).

You are asking them to explain their thinking. You are treating them like an intelligent person. This lowers their defenses.

2. Validate the Emotion, Not the Fact.

When they say, "Kailangan natin ng kamay na bakal," they are expressing fear. Fear of crime. Fear of disorder.

Instead of: "That's fascism! You're enabling a dictator."
Try, NVC approach: "It sounds like you're really worried about safety in our community. I'm worried about that too. Is that why you like him? Because he makes you feel safer?" (Nonviolent Communication).

Connect on the shared feeling. We all want to be safe. We all want a better country. Start there.

3. Ask the "Circuit Breaker" Question.

This is a technique to bypass the script.

Instead of: Bombarding them with articles they won't read.
Try: "I hear you. But I'm curious, hypothetically, is there anything he could do that would make you stop supporting him? Like, what would be the line for you?" (Spectrum Street Epistemology).

If they say "Nothing," then you know the conversation is over. You can't reason with unconditional worship. But if they give you an answer, "If he killed someone," "If he stole from the poor," then you have found common ground. You have established that there are standards.

4. The Deep Canvass: Share Your Story.

Deep Canvassing research shows that personal stories are more persuasive than statistics, especially when they connect to the listener’s values and experiences (Deep canvassing) (Resources – Deep Canvass Institute).

Don't talk about the GDP. Talk about your life.

"Alam mo, tito, the reason I get so angry about the corruption is because I see my friends paying huge taxes and still queuing for hours at the MRT. It hurts me to see that money stolen. It feels personal."

Vulnerability invites vulnerability.

Knowing When to Fold

There is a difference between a difficult conversation and a toxic one.

If they start insulting you. If they call you names. If they dismiss your humanity.

Bahala na sila.

You are not required to be a punching bag for someone else's political idolatry. Boundaries are healthy. Psychologists and communication experts stress the importance of limits in high-conflict relationships for mental health (Managing conversations when you disagree politically) (Boundaries, respect keys to political discussions with family).

It is perfectly okay to say: "I love you, and I value our relationship too much to fight about this. Let's not talk about politics today. Kumain ka na ba?"

That isn't surrendering. That is preserving your peace.

The Long Game

I don't think we can "fix" people. I don't think one conversation over coffee will undo years of propaganda and algorithm-fed bias.

But maybe that's not the goal.

Maybe the goal is just to keep the line open. To show them that someone can disagree with them and still treat them with respect. To be the one person in their life who doesn't call them "bobo," but asks them, "Why?"

Because one day, maybe, just maybe, the cracks will show. The idol will fail them. The promise will be broken.

And when that happens, they won't need an enemy saying "I told you so."

They will need a friend who says, "I know. It hurts. Let's talk."