Et tu, Ignoramus?

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I felt March roll in when the cool breeze that had been letting me save on electricity bills since December suddenly stopped blowing, like an electric fan rudely turned off. And then I was reminded of the Ides of March. The what?

If you ask the average young (or even aging) Filipino about the Ides of March, you’ll likely get these responses: a blank stare, a vague recollection of seeing it in a crossword puzzle, a hesitant guess that it’s an international clothing brand, or that Ryan Gosling-George Clooney movie you never actually watched. We can’t entirely blame them. Philippine schools spent so much time on Rizal and the Katipunan that ancient Rome barely got a footnote.

So, what’s the fuss about the Ides of March, once one of the most infamous dates in history, but as relevant today as a rotary phone? Well, the 15th of March in 44 B.C. was the day Julius Caesar was stabbed 23 times by his so-called friends. Among them was his BFF Brutus, who delivered the ultimate betrayal to settle their political disagreements. You know the line: “Et tu, Brute?” — possibly the first instance in recorded history of someone saying, “I trusted you, bro.” But to be clear, Shakespeare took creative liberties in writing that dialogue.
The real Caesar, according to historical accounts, may not even have uttered anything quite so poetic. He likely just grunted in shock and disbelief as he bled out, clutching his spilled guts in the middle of the Senate floor.

The term “Ides” simply referred to the middle of the month in the Roman calendar, not some ominous doomsday prophecy. Romans, being the bureaucratic overachievers they were, had specific names for different parts of the month. But thanks to Caesar’s unfortunate rendezvous with daggers, “Ides of March” is now shorthand for “Watch your back.”

How does this relate to Filipinos, aside from our fascination with Spartacus and HBO’s Rome? Well, if Rome had Senate conspiracies, we have political turncoats who make Brutus look like an amateur. Every election season, alliances shift faster than a TikTok trend. Cabinet members transform overnight from “trusted allies” to bitter critics, and impeachment plots are whispered about like office gossip.

The current political murmurs surrounding the potential impeachment of Vice President Sara Duterte is a case in point. Will it happen? Probably not. But the “Marites” grapevine is enough to send politicians either cowering for cover or sharpening their figurative daggers. If it were made into a reality show, it would be called “UniTeam Gone Wild.”

Meanwhile, the rest of the country is more concerned with the impending Holy Week exodus. Expect the bus terminals, the airports, and the piers to be crammed, plane tickets to soar, and Metro Manila to transform into a traffic utopia — at least for a few days. Then, as if political drama weren’t enough, summer arrives with its annual reminders of brownouts, water shortages, and the first signs of typhoons forming in the Pacific, ready to throw their own brand of chaos into our lives.

Yet, we must not ignore the bigger picture. While the Philippines doesn’t have an “Ides of March” equivalent in popular memory, it’s not for lack of juicy historical betrayals. Andres Bonifacio and Emilio Aguinaldo’s dishonorable fallout, the political backstabbing that led to Joseph “Erap” Estrada’s downfall, and the countless instances of political parties switching sides faster than a chameleon on a rainbow all serve as reminders that, in this country, loyalty is as fleeting as a campaign promise. We may not have literal knives in the Senate, but we have political assassinations of a different kind — trials by publicity, weaponized bureaucracy, and the slow suffocation of opponents through legal technicalities and smear campaigns.

Even beyond the corridors of power, betrayal runs through our everyday lives. From workplace drama to social circles imploding over the latest scandal, we witness our own miniature Ides of March on a regular basis.

Office politics can be as cutthroat as actual politics, with promotions snatched away by backstabbing colleagues and corporate coups that would make Machiavelli proud. Friendships fall apart over money, trust is easily shattered by deception, and family feuds over inheritance can turn family reunions into war zones. If history teaches us anything, it’s that treachery is a human flaw, not just a political phenomenon.

Despite our deep familiarity with betrayal, we never seem to learn. We keep electing the same kinds of leaders, keep being blindsided by the same dirty tricks, and keep expecting different results. Whether you’re influenced by the three Gs (guns, goons, gold), you alone make the final decision.

And yet, the cycle continues, undeterred by history’s cautionary tales. Perhaps it’s not just ignorance but a willful refusal to see the patterns. Perhaps we don’t want to admit that, deep down, we enjoy the spectacle of it all — the scandals, the betrayals, the dramatic falls from grace. Politics in the Philippines isn’t just governance; it’s The Amazing Race aiming for season 40.

So here we are, standing not at the intersection but at the precipice of history, politics, religion, and climate change, blissfully unaware of the weight that the Ides of March once carried. Ignorance is not bliss, and it is certainly no longer just a personal failing; it’s a collective threat. If history has taught us anything, it’s that an uninformed, indifferent populace is the perfect breeding ground for betrayal, corruption, and downfall.

Et tu, ignoramus? Will the ignorant mob continue to spell the death of the few who dare to dream of something better? Or will we finally learn from history instead of just repeating it like a bad rerun?