Break Free from the Matrix

Take the red pill

The Matrix has you. Take the red pill

Preamble

Have you ever felt like the history we’ve been taught in school doesn’t quite add up? Like there are pieces missing, or worse, that the stories we know are just half-truths crafted to shape our beliefs in a certain way? This isn’t just a feeling—it’s a reality. For decades, the Philippine government has been rewriting our history, reshaping it to fit a narrative that benefits those in power, while the truth, the real history of our people, is buried deeper and deeper under layers of propaganda and myth.

Let’s start with one of the biggest lies we've been fed: the Philippine Revolution. We’ve been told that it was a heroic struggle, a nationwide uprising where Filipinos of all backgrounds united to overthrow Spanish colonial rule. But that’s not the whole story. The truth is, this so-called revolution was largely a Tagalog affair, driven by elites in Manila who had their own interests in mind. The other regions, with their own distinct cultures and histories, were either sidelined or coerced into participating. Take the Kapampangans, for instance. This group, with its rich cultural heritage and strong sense of identity, found itself caught in the crossfire of a conflict that was never really theirs to begin with. The idea of a united Filipino nation fighting for freedom is a myth—a convenient story that has been used to gloss over the deep divisions and power struggles that were really at play.

But why would the government promote such a distorted version of history? The answer lies in the system that was built after the revolution—what we now know as managerialism. This system shifted real power away from elected officials and into the hands of unelected bureaucrats and managers who run the day-to-day operations of the state. These people, who answer to no one but themselves, impose their agenda on the public, often at the expense of our local cultures and traditions. They have turned our diverse nation into a homogenized entity, where regional identities are suppressed, and a centralized culture is promoted. The result is a society where everyone is expected to fit into a single mold, where the rich diversity that once defined our nation is slowly being erased.

The myth of national unity has been one of the most powerful tools in this process. By convincing us that we are all part of one homogeneous nation, the government has been able to centralize power and control. They’ve used education, media, and policy to enforce this narrative, promoting the idea that our differences should be erased in favor of a unified Filipino identity. But what they don’t tell you is that this so-called unity was never real to begin with. It was an invention, a postcolonial creation designed to serve the interests of those in power. The reality is that our nation is a mosaic of different cultures, each with its own history, traditions, and values. The forced creation of a single national identity has done more harm than good, erasing the unique characteristics of each region in the name of efficiency and control.

Consider the Kapampangan people, who have suffered greatly under this system. For centuries, Kapampangan culture was vibrant and strong, with its own language, customs, and social structures. But over time, this culture has been systematically undermined. The government imposed Tagalog as the national language, discouraging Kapampangans from speaking their own tongue. Schools taught a version of history that glorified the revolution and the formation of a Filipino nation, leaving little room for the stories of other ethnic groups. In workplaces and public spaces, speaking Kapampangan was often seen as unsightly or backward. This wasn’t just a natural process of modernization—it was a deliberate effort to weaken regional identities and strengthen the government’s control over the people.

The role of education in this process cannot be overstated. From a young age, we are indoctrinated with a version of history that supports the government’s narrative. The Rizal Law, for example, mandates the teaching of Jose Rizal’s works in all schools, which promotes a particular view of the revolution and the formation of the nation. But this one-sided education blinds us to the true complexity of our nation’s history. It teaches us to see the past through the lens of a single narrative, rather than as a series of interwoven stories, each with its own truth. This educational system is not designed to enlighten us but to mold us into citizens who support the status quo.

This isn’t just about history—it’s about power and control. By erasing regional identities and promoting a single national culture, the government consolidates its power, making it easier to control the population. But this control comes at a cost. We lose the richness of our heritage, the diversity that makes us who we are. We become cogs in a machine, each one indistinguishable from the next. And those who dare to hold on to their identity, who refuse to conform to the government’s narrative, are labeled as backward or unpatriotic.

The consequences of this are far-reaching. Our wages are lower because the government-backed companies that dominate our economy demand more of our time and effort, all while keeping our pay stagnant. The red tape and bureaucracy make it nearly impossible for small businesses to thrive, favoring large corporations that can navigate the complex web of regulations. The educational system, which should be a beacon of knowledge and enlightenment, has instead become a factory for producing obedient workers, trained not to think critically but to follow orders. Even our healthcare system is affected—doctors, trained to follow protocols rather than think for themselves, often prescribe medications without fully understanding their effects, leading to widespread issues like iatrogenesis, where the treatment causes more harm than good.

We are living in a society where the government controls every aspect of our lives, from the languages we speak to the thoughts we think. And yet, we’re told that this is for our own good, that this is what it means to be part of a modern nation. But is it really? Or is it just a way for those in power to maintain their grip on the country, to keep us all in line while they benefit from our compliance?

The Mode of Control

Think about it—every decision that affects your life is made by someone far away, disconnected from your reality. The rules, the policies, the regulations—they’re handed down by people who have never walked your streets or shared your struggles. This system wasn’t built to serve you. It was built to control you.

They want you in Manila. Why? Because that’s where they can control you—working for their corporations, paying their taxes, following their rules. The city life looks like progress, but what they don’t want you to know is that real power is out here, in the provinces.

In the provinces, we hold the land. We have the resources. We don’t need to live by the rules of the system that only benefits those at the top. Here, we can build something of our own—free from their oversight and control.

Federalism feeds you a lie: that you can have Manila in your backyard. But what they don’t tell you is that bringing Manila to the provinces doesn’t mean progress—it means control. It means more bureaucracy, more rules, more taxes, and more surveillance. When you invite Manila into the provinces, you invite the very system that traps people in the cities. Don’t be fooled by their promises. The real power is in rejecting their control, not inviting it closer. They’ve fed us the lie that progress only happens in the urban centers. But the truth is, in the provinces, we are free to create, to grow, and to thrive without being tied to their corporate machines and government chains.

Out here, you don’t just survive—you live. You grow your own food, trade with your neighbors, and create a life on your terms, not theirs. You have space to breathe, to build, and to reclaim the power that’s been forgotten in the city lights and concrete walls.

Don’t let them fool you. The future isn’t just theirs to define. It’s ours to take back—right here in the provinces, where the real power resides. Let’s rise together. Let’s grow something outside their reach.

Don’t Get Demoralized

For too long, we’ve been told that the solutions to our problems lie in the hands of distant authorities—national governments, global institutions, centralized bureaucracies. But these distant powers don’t understand us, our communities, or our needs. The truth is, real power must belong where it’s always belonged: at the local level.

They’ll tell you that disconnecting from the Philippines is impossible. They’ll say that rejecting the system, the way things are, is impractical and foolish. But history proves them wrong.

The American colonists once stood up to an empire, severing ties with a system that no longer served them, birthing a new nation. The Confederacy, too, challenged the status quo, fighting for what they believed was their right to sovereignty. Whether they succeeded or not isn’t the point—the truth is, they tried. And you can, too.

It starts with a choice. A small, deliberate step. Disconnect from the system that lies to you about history and reality. You don’t have to play along. Practice counter-economics: trade with your community, buy local, grow your own food, and bypass the corrupt networks that choke your freedom. Reject the government’s version of history. Learn the truth for yourself.

But there’s another way. We can reclaim power for ourselves, for our communities. We can build local economies that thrive outside of their corporate networks. We can govern ourselves, making decisions based on our needs, not theirs. We can resist the pull of centralization and stand strong as small, connected communities.

The future isn’t in their hands—it’s in ours. By supporting local businesses, growing our own food, creating our own systems of trade and governance, we take back control. We become self-reliant. We become free.
It starts small, but the impact grows. When we reject centralized authority and focus on our communities, we build something stronger. Something that can’t be controlled by bureaucrats in their high-rise offices. Something that belongs to us.

Reclaim your power. Strengthen your community. It’s time to stop waiting for them to fix things and start doing it ourselves. The future is local. The future is ours to create. And when they tell you it’s hopeless, that you can’t escape, laugh—because others before you have already proved it’s possible.

Tell your friends—or leave them behind if they cling to their chains. Your future is your own. Make the first step today.