“Ang pananahimik ay pagpayag.”

Those words landed heavily when Arjay Lim, former Assistant Director of the National Printing Office, announced his resignation and publicly explained why he would no longer stay silent inside the administration of President Ferdinand Marcos Jr..

Lim’s message was not impulsive. It was measured, reflective — and damning in its restraint.

For years, he believed in the system. He believed that working quietly from within could produce reform. He believed the President genuinely wanted to correct the past, restore integrity, and serve the Filipino people honestly.

But belief, he admits, became a burden.

What he witnessed were not isolated errors or growing pains, but patterns — excuses, cover-ups, and a culture where accountability was treated as a threat rather than a duty.

Agila satire does not exaggerate this moment. It highlights its gravity.

Because when someone leaves quietly, the Palace shrugs.
But when someone leaves and explains why, the silence becomes dangerous.

Lim’s declaration cuts deeper than slogans:

“Staying meant participating. Silence meant consent.”

That sentence alone dismantles years of carefully curated messaging. It reframes silence not as neutrality, but as complicity.

He is clear:
He did not leave because the work was hard.
He left because he could no longer face himself and claim he was doing the right thing.

This is not yet an accusation.
It is a moral indictment — one that dares institutions to respond with facts, not fury.

Scripture captures the weight of this moment:

“Whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”
— James 4:17

2026, Lim insists, will not be a year of quiet.