former Vice-President
Maria Leonor Gerona Robredo. — LENI ROBREDO FACEBOOK ACCOUNT
The launch of the Ateneo School of Government’s Henedina Abad Memorial Lecture on Women Leaders in Public Service in late October 2025 was more than an academic event. Held in a university setting filled with students, faculty members, civil society leaders, and public servants, the lecture series was conceived as a space for remembering, and relearning, what ethical leadership looks like in a time of deep political fatigue. The inaugural lecture was anchored on the life and legacy of Dina Abad, a woman widely regarded as one of the most principled and influential figures in Philippine public service.
It was a great honor to be the launch’s keynote speaker, for Dina was my exemplar of the virtuous, steadfast, and courageous politician. It was an occasion for me to reflect on Dina’s life. My own journey in public service has been shaped by community organizing, human rights advocacy, and legislative reform. My reflections offer a deeply personal yet politically resonant portrait of a leader who made governance humane.
Dina Abad was not known for spectacle. She did not court attention, nor did she rely on charisma to wield influence. Yet, for many who worked with her, she represented the rare public servant whose intellect was matched by moral discipline. As a former dean of the Ateneo School of Government and a legislator, Dina believed that politics was not about conquest but stewardship. Her leadership was grounded in the belief that public power should always serve human dignity.
I entered public life without a political surname and from the margins of power in Mindanao, Dina became an early reference point for what ethical leadership would look like. At a time when politics often appeared hostile to women and reformers, Dina stood as proof that integrity and intellect could coexist and prevail.
When I eventually entered Congress, I found in Dina not a commanding superior, but a quiet mentor. Dina did not impose her wisdom. She guided through listening, asking difficult questions, and grounding every political decision in its impact on the poor. In legislative debates, whether on the death penalty, land use, or the age of criminal responsibility, Dina was known to ask a simple but disarming question: Who benefits, and who is left behind? It was a question that cut through political noise and forced legislators to confront the moral consequences of their votes.
Rather than issuing directives, Dina invited reflection. She understood that leadership was not about controlling outcomes, but shaping conscience. For younger legislators, especially women navigating male-dominated spaces, she provided both intellectual rigor and emotional grounding.
Beyond mentorship, Dina’s broader legacy lay in her insistence that governance must always have a human face. She was among the early thinkers to articulate people-centered governance in Philippine policy discourse — arguing that transparency was not merely about reports and numbers, but about accountability that ordinary citizens could feel in their daily lives.
Her academic work trained generations of public servants to see policy not as abstraction but as lived reality. In Congress, this translated into reforms that emphasized social protection, participatory governance, and accountability in public spending. She moved fluidly between policy analysis and storytelling, often reminding colleagues that behind every budget line was a family trying to survive with dignity.
Those who know Dina often describe her defining trait as integrity — not as rhetoric, but as practice. She believed integrity was not about avoiding scandal, but about consistency: choosing what is right even when it is inconvenient or politically costly. She was also known for courage without cruelty. Dina did not shy away from controversies, upholding firm yet humane positions, grounded in reason rather than ego. For her, moral authority was earned through restraint, clarity, and respect.
Perhaps most striking was her rejection of what she called “moral laziness” — the temptation to settle for pwede na (good enough) when stakes were high. For Dina, leadership meant refusing convenience when principles were at risk.
Dina’s influence on me did not end with mentorship. It became a compass. During my tenure as governor of Dinagat Islands, amid poverty, disasters, and governance challenges, I often returned to Dina’s example when idealism seemed fragile. The question was never whether reform was difficult, but whether it was necessary.
That same compass continues to guide my legislative work today: in defending human rights, fighting corruption, and advancing the interests of marginalized communities. Dina’s legacy is breathing. It lives on through the choices of those she shaped.
The memorial lecture was ultimately addressed to students and young leaders in the room. Dina’s life offers them a powerful lesson: Politics is not inherently corrupt, and governance is not beyond redemption. Leadership does not begin with titles, but with conscience.
In an era dominated by noise and spectacle, Dina demonstrated the strength 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 was, therefore, not 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, remains one of the most powerful forms of love.
Representative Kaka Bag-Ao from the Lone District of Dinagat Islands was the keynote speaker of the inaugural Henedina Razon-Abad Memorial Lecture on Women Leaders in Public Service, organized by the Ateneo School of Government.
