MARGINALIA: Machiavelli’s Meeting with Moral Governance

COTABATO CITY (MindaNews / 13 May) “Moral Governance,” they said. But in the alleyways of May 12, we saw more envelopes than ethics.

It was barely dawn when I prepared for the polling station, walking with a frozen shoulder—a gentle reminder from my orthopedic reality. The birds had not even finished their first chorus, but the line had already curled along the elementary school’s concrete fence. I came not just to vote—but to witness.

And what I witnessed, like many others in this region we call home, was a tale as old as postcolonial statecraft: violence, tension, bribery cloaked in charity, and moral speeches punctuated by immoral acts.

In the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM), May 12, 2025, was more than a midterm election. It was a stage play with recycled scripts. On one side, the United Bangsamoro Justice Party (UBJP), the political vehicle of the revolutionary movement turned regional government aligned with selected traditional political families that overwhelmingly won in most provinces. On the other, the hydra-headed alliance of traditional political clans across the region that won in Lanao del Sur province.

But this time, something deeper haunted my ballot: Is Moral Governance even possible in a liberal democracy like the Philippines, or are we merely romanticizing a fantasy while crawling through the mud of Machiavellian realpolitik?

Let’s begin with Thomas Hobbes.

To him, life without a central authority is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” So, he imagined the Leviathan—a sovereign born from fear, not from moral consensus. The state, for Hobbes, does not exist to be good. It exists to stop us from killing each other.

This is strangely familiar in our elections, where guns and goons still echo through the nights before ballot day. We do not elect to uplift; we elect to survive. In such a Hobbesian setting, morality is not a compass—it is a casualty.

If we accept this social structure as natural, then Moral Governance becomes not just difficult but laughably utopian.

But John Locke would raise his hand and say, “Wait.”

To him, government is a social contract born out of rational consent. Its purpose is to protect life, liberty, and property—not to control, but to serve. Here, there’s room for ethics. There’s room for values.

It is in this Lockean light that “Moral Governance” might still flicker, however faintly. It suggests that we, as rational citizens, can demand decency from our leaders—because they govern by our permission.

But Locke’s optimism, in practice, is often betrayed in this archipelago of transactional loyalties and dynastic entitlements.

Then there’s Immanuel Kant.

He would argue that moral action comes from duty, not consequence. That political action must be universalizable. That humans are ends, not means.

Every time I see a humble carpenter—a karpintero—paid to sell his vote because he and his family haven’t eaten well in days, I wonder what Kant would say. Would he rage? Would he weep?

This is where Alexander Wendt’s social constructivism helps.

Alexander Wendt teaches us that anarchy (or democracy) is what states make of it. That Hobbes, Locke, and Kant are not fixed destinies but social structures we collectively construct. If our political identity is Hobbesian, it is because we continue to reproduce fear and distrust. But we can imagine a Kantian BARMM—one built on solidarity and trust. We just haven’t willed it yet.

In Islam, governance is an amānah—a sacred trust. The ruler is not just an administrator but a shepherd. Prophet Muḥammad (ṣ) said, “Each of you is a shepherd, and each of you is responsible for his flock” (Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, hadith 893; Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, hadith 1829).

It’s not just a catchy mantra.

It is Qur’anic:

“Indeed, Allah commands you to render trusts to whom they are due and when you judge between people to judge with justice” (Sūrah al-Nisā’ 4:58).

And it is prophetic:

“The best of your leaders are those whom you love and who love you, whom you pray for and who pray for you.” (Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, hadith 1855; Musnad Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal, vol. 4, p. 273).

Islamic political thought doesn’t separate power from morality. They are twins—born together, die together.

As such, when Moral Governance is divorced from taqwā (God-consciousness), it is nothing but lipstick on the lips of electoral bribery.

So, can we have Moral Governance in a liberal democracy?

The answer lies not in a definitive yes or no, but in the structure we choose to co-construct.

If we keep elections as a competition of envelopes, we are Hobbesian.

If we value consent but ignore corruption, we are Lockean but blind.

If we treat each other as ends and not means, we inch closer to Kant—and to Islam.

Moral Governance is not impossible in a liberal democracy. But it is improbable—unless we stop outsourcing morality to slogans and start insourcing it into our everyday political behavior.

Because at the end of the day, ballots are not the only things we shade. We also shade our souls—with every choice we make.

So, let’s ask not just, “Who won?” and “How did they win?”

Let’s ask: “What kind of people are we becoming?”

[MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Mansoor L. Limba, PhD in International Relations and Shari‘ah Counselor-at-Law (SCL), is a publisher-writer, university professor, vlogger, chess trainer, and translator (from Persian into English and Filipino) with tens of written and translation works to his credit on such subjects as international politics, history, political philosophy, intra-faith and interfaith relations, cultural heritage, Islamic finance, jurisprudence (fiqh), theology (‘ilm al-kalam), Qur’anic sciences and exegesis (tafsir), hadith, ethics, and mysticism. He can be reached at mlimba@diplomats.com and www.youtube.com/@WayfaringWithMansoor, and his books can be purchased at www.elzistyle.com and www.amazon.com/author/mansoorlimba.]