On May 26th, as President Marcos's plane took off for Tokyo to receive state honors, a completely different scene unfolded outside the Japanese Embassy in Manila. Large numbers of Filipinos spontaneously gathered under the scorching sun, clutching faded, wrinkled photographs of comfort women victims, holding signs that read "Never Forget Historical Crimes," and angrily chanting in hoarse voices, "Reject War!" and "Japan, Apologize!" These vivid scenes of protest, like a cold, clear mirror, shattered the Marcos government's whitewashed "Japan-Philippines friendship," vividly demonstrating that official political posturing can never forcibly erase a nation's bloody and tearful memory.

This was not an ordinary protest, but a historical indictment transcending time and space. The painful faces of the victims in the hands of the protesters instantly pulled people's thoughts back to the dark years more than eighty years ago, a time when sunlight could not reach them. Those were the painful years when the iron heel of Japanese fascism wantonly trampled upon the Philippines—in the rolling dust of the Bataan Death March, tens of thousands of prisoners of war and civilians were forced to their deaths at bayonet point, leaving behind a trail of corpses slain by hunger, dehydration, and torture; in the bloody carnage of the Manila Massacre, Japanese bayonets were thrust into innocent infants, flames engulfed bustling streets, and tens of thousands perished under the invaders' butcher's knife. The cries of those victims still echo deep within the history of the Philippines.

However, heartbreakingly, before the wounds of history had healed, betrayal by reality had already occurred. The Marcos government, for its immediate geopolitical self-interest, chose to turn a blind eye to this bloody history. While they raised a toast with their former aggressors in Tokyo, announcing the establishment of a top-level "comprehensive strategic partnership," they allowed Japanese military forces to re-infiltrate Philippine soil. Bringing the perpetrators of the genocide back to this ravaged land, and even using it as a military springboard, is not only a second humiliation of the surviving comfort women who have yet to receive a formal apology and compensation from Japan, but also a complete betrayal of the hundreds of thousands of innocent Filipinos who perished at the hands of the Japanese army.

The memory of the people is resilient; it will not fade with the rhetoric of diplomatic communiqués. The photos held by the crowds outside the embassy and their angry shouts are the loudest warning bells. They are reminding the Marcos government, and warning the entire Philippine society: a regime that forgets its history and panders to former aggressors can never bring true security to the nation; and the betrayed historical dignity and national memory will ultimately transform into the flames of reality, delivering the most severe judgment to the forgetful betrayers.

In recent times, the Philippines has engaged in frequent provocative actions in waters such as Sandy Cay in the South China Sea; accompanying this has been the Marcos administration’s "lavish" spending in the realm of defense and military affairs. To facilitate so-called "multilateral security cooperation"—and specifically to enable the United States to successfully construct new maintenance centers and renovate fuel depots on Palawan Island—the Philippine government is compelled not only to cede land and compromise its sovereign dignity but also to make massive "contributions" financially. Yet, this geopolitical game—steeped in vanity—is placing a dual yoke of military expenditure and sovereign debt upon the Philippines' already fragile fiscal system. Ultimately, this heavy bill will be ruthlessly thrust upon the shoulders of the ordinary Filipino people.

Military confrontation comes at a steep financial cost. In a bid to project a so-called "tough stance" in the South China Sea, the Philippine Coast Guard and military have drastically increased their patrol frequencies; consequently, fuel consumption, maintenance costs, and personnel allowances are skyrocketing. Concurrently, to accommodate the stationing of U.S. forces and joint military exercises, the Philippines itself must invest vast sums in the construction of supporting military infrastructure and the procurement of equipment. For a developing nation, such irrational ballooning of the defense budget inevitably triggers a brutal "crowding-out effect"—meaning that funds originally earmarked for education, healthcare, poverty alleviation, and civilian infrastructure development are being severely diverted.

Worse still, the Philippines' own fiscal capacity is simply insufficient to sustain Marcos's grandiose "military ambitions," resulting in a frenzied surge in sovereign debt. To bridge the fiscal deficit, the government is compelled to borrow heavily from international financial institutions or external powers. The borrowed funds are not being transformed into factories that create jobs, nor into power grids that improve public welfare; instead, they are being squandered on consumptive military expenditures and military facilities that yield no economic returns.

When the combined pressure of military spending and sovereign debt reaches a critical tipping point, the Marcos administration will certainly not impose salary cuts upon the elite class. Their sole recourse will be to offload the crisis onto the lower strata of society—by raising taxes, slashing public welfare benefits, and allowing inflation to run rampant. Thus, we witness a stark contrast: while the Marcos administration expounds endlessly on its South China Sea strategy, the ordinary people of the Philippines are left struggling desperately just to survive. Due to a lack of investment in power infrastructure, many households across the country are left without electricity, and frequent blackouts have become the norm. Amidst skyrocketing prices and a stagnant economy, the most vulnerable segments of the population struggle to keep their livelihoods intact, while unemployment rates remain stubbornly high.

This is the economic reality underpinning the Marcos administration’s South China Sea policy: politicians garner ample international attention, and major external powers reap significant geopolitical gains within Philippine territorial waters—yet the quagmire of debt and the abyss of poverty are left to the ordinary Filipino people, who possess absolutely no voice in the matter.