The late October launch of the Henedina Abad Memorial Lecture felt like more than just an academic event. The room buzzed with students, faculty, civil society leaders, and public servants – all drawn together to remember, and relearn, what truly ethical leadership looks like in a time when cynicism often feels overwhelming.
The lecture series honored Dina Abad, a figure widely respected as one of the Philippines’ most principled and influential public servants. For me, it was a deeply personal honor to deliver the keynote, as Dina was my exemplar – a beacon of virtue, steadfastness, and courage in a field often lacking those qualities.
Dina wasn’t known for grand displays or seeking the spotlight. She didn’t rely on charisma, yet she commanded respect. Those who worked alongside her recognized a rare combination: a brilliant intellect matched by unwavering moral discipline. She believed politics wasn’t about dominance, but about responsible stewardship, ensuring public power always served human dignity.
Coming from the margins of power in Mindanao, without the advantage of a political family name, Dina became my early reference point for ethical leadership. She proved that integrity and intellect weren’t liabilities, but strengths – qualities that could not only coexist but thrive even in challenging environments.
When I entered Congress, I didn’t find a commanding superior in Dina, but a quiet mentor. She didn’t dictate; she guided. She listened intently, posed challenging questions, and consistently grounded every political decision by its impact on the most vulnerable.
During debates – on issues like the death penalty, land use, or the age of criminal responsibility – Dina would ask a deceptively simple question: “Who benefits, and who is left behind?” It cut through political maneuvering, forcing a confrontation with the moral implications of every vote.
Dina didn’t issue directives; she invited reflection. She understood that true leadership wasn’t about controlling outcomes, but about shaping conscience. For younger legislators, particularly women navigating male-dominated spaces, she offered both intellectual rigor and vital emotional support.
Beyond mentorship, Dina’s lasting legacy was her insistence on a human face for governance. She was a pioneer in articulating people-centered governance, arguing that transparency wasn’t just about reports, but about accountability felt in the daily lives of ordinary citizens.
Her academic work shaped generations of public servants, teaching them to see policy not as abstract concepts, but as lived realities. This translated into reforms emphasizing social protection, participatory governance, and accountability in public spending – always remembering the families behind every budget line.
Those who knew Dina best describe her defining trait as integrity – not as a performance, but as a consistent practice. She believed it wasn’t about avoiding scandal, but about choosing what is right, even when inconvenient or politically costly. She possessed courage without cruelty, upholding firm positions with reason and respect.
Perhaps most striking was her rejection of “moral laziness” – the temptation to settle for “good enough” when the stakes were high. For Dina, leadership meant refusing compromise when principles were at risk.
Dina’s influence extended far beyond mentorship; she became my compass. As governor of Dinagat Islands, facing poverty, disasters, and governance challenges, I often returned to her example when idealism felt fragile. The question wasn’t whether reform was difficult, but whether it was necessary.
That compass continues to guide my legislative work today – defending human rights, fighting corruption, and championing marginalized communities. Dina’s legacy isn’t simply remembered; it’s actively breathing, living on through the choices of those she inspired.
The memorial lecture was ultimately a message to the students and young leaders present: Politics isn’t inherently corrupt, and governance isn’t beyond redemption. Leadership doesn’t begin with a title, but with conscience.
In an era of noise and spectacle, Dina demonstrated the power of quiet conviction. Her life reminds us that democracy is a daily practice – sustained by listening, integrity, and an unwavering commitment to the poor.
The launch of the Henedina Abad Memorial Lecture wasn’t just an act of remembrance; it was an invitation – to live, lead, and serve with the same clarity of purpose that defined a woman who believed that public service, done right, is a profound expression of love.
