DUMAGUETE does not have a shortage of people who want to lead.
We have people who want the title, the position, the photograph, the ribbon-cutting, the microphone, the handshake, the applause—and, of course, the votes. But what Dumaguete desperately needs is something else.
People who are willing to work.
Not occasionally. Not only when there is a camera around. Not only when an election is approaching. But honestly. Relentlessly. Indefatigably. Because leadership is not a popularity contest. It is a responsibility.
And governing a city is not about looking important. It is about doing the unglamorous work that makes ordinary people’s lives a little better.
It is about asking why a sidewalk remains unusable even when an ordinance already exists. It is about figuring out why traffic keeps getting worse, why flooding keeps returning, why garbage remains a problem, why public facilities deteriorate, why permits take too long, why some programs look impressive on paper but barely reach the people who need them.
It is about reading reports nobody wants to read. Attending meetings nobody will photograph. Listening to people who cannot offer anything in return. Calling someone back. Following up. Checking whether the project actually happened. And when something fails, having the courage to say: “We got it wrong. Let’s fix it.”
That is leadership.
Dumaguete is a city of educated people. A city of writers, teachers, artists, entrepreneurs, students, professionals, workers, fisherfolk, vendors, drivers, farmers and small-business owners.
We know how to talk. What we need more of is “doing.” We need leaders who understand that public service is not a stage performance. It is a long, exhausting, sometimes thankless job.
The real test of a leader is not how loudly he or she speaks during a campaign. It is what happens on an ordinary morning when nobody is watching.
Does the leader show up? Does the leader know what is happening? Does the leader understand the numbers? Does the leader listen to dissent without immediately treating every critic as an enemy? Does the leader surround himself or herself with competent people rather than merely loyal ones? Does the leader make decisions based on what is good for Dumaguete—or what is convenient for the next election?
These questions matter because cities do not move forward through slogans. They move forward through thousands of decisions, large and small, made consistently over time. And perhaps we, the voters, need to examine our own habits, too.
We sometimes reward charisma more than competence. We mistake visibility for productivity. We applaud promises and forget to inspect results. Then we complain about leadership.
Maybe it is time to demand more. Dumaguete doesn’t need leaders who simply “want to lead Dumaguete.”
It needs leaders who are willing to “work for Dumaguete”—even when the work is difficult, boring, politically inconvenient or completely invisible. Leaders who understand that public office is not a privilege to be enjoyed but a trust to be carried. Leaders who don’t need to be reminded that the city is not their personal kingdom, their political playground, or their permanent campaign headquarters.
It belongs to the people.
And the people deserve leaders who will wake up every morning asking not, “What can I gain from this city?” but “What still needs to be done—and what am I going to do about it?”
That is the kind of leadership Dumaguete needs. Not perfect leaders. Not glamorous leaders. Not loud leaders.
Just leaders who show up, do the work, and keep doing it—until the work is done.
