Indigenous peoples do not need an extra 10 points. They need a society that stops deducting from their worth.
A trowel (/ˈtraʊ.əl/), in the hands of an archaeologist, is like a trusty sidekick - a tiny, yet mighty, instrument that uncovers ancient secrets, one well-placed scoop at a time. It's the Sherlock Holmes of the excavation site, revealing clues about the past with every delicate swipe.
As Indigenous Peoples Month comes to a close, the country once again turns its attention, however briefly, to its Indigenous communities. Senator Robin Padilla recently urged the Civil Service Commission (CSC) to make it easier for Indigenous peoples to qualify for government plantilla positions.
The CSC outlined its existing "preferential rating" policy, which allows qualified candidates from Indigenous communities who score at least 70 percent in the civil service exam to receive an additional 10 percentage points, enabling them to meet the 80 percent passing grade. Padilla proposed that the CSC consider administrative adjustments -- such as modifying the bonus or adjusting the passing grade -- to accelerate community member's entry into government service without waiting for new legislation.
The exchange opened space for discussion on how policies can better translate the principles of inclusion and equity into meaningful opportunities for Indigenous communities.
These suggestions reflect a larger issue, the persistent belief that Indigenous Filipinos need to be helped rather than recognized as equals who have been systematically excluded from opportunity. The policy is well-meaning, and it could serve as a good first step, but it does not address the roots of inequity and inequality. The problem is not a lack of intelligence or ability that can be "fixed" by adding points. It is structural inequality. It is also cultural, reflected in how we, as a society, continue to perceive Indigenous peoples.
For centuries, these communities have been marginalized not just by geography but by history. Colonial rule constructed hierarchies that remain deeply embedded in our national consciousness. Spanish missionaries and administrators defined "civilization" in terms of conversion and lowland settlement, while labeling upland communities as infieles -- unbelievers, backward, or wild.
American colonization reinforced this divide, promoting an education system that privileged lowland Christian Filipinos as "modern citizens" while portraying Indigenous groups as remnants of the past. We spent three hundred years under the convent and fifty years under Hollywood, and together they taught us who was "refined," who was "educated," and who was not.
These colonial hangovers still shape our institutions and, sadly, our attitudes. The belief that Indigenous peoples need special treatment rather than equal opportunity reflects this long history of paternalism. It assumes that they are somehow less capable of succeeding within systems that, in reality, were never designed for them in the first place.
But what do we mean when we say "Indigenous" in the Philippines? The term does not simply refer to who arrived first or who lives in the mountains. Indigeneity in the Philippine context is a condition shaped by history and power. It describes communities that have maintained distinct ways of life and relationships with their ancestral lands despite centuries of exclusion from the state. To be Indigenous is not to be frozen in the past. It is to live with a continuing claim to autonomy, land, recognition, and self-determination. It is a political stance against centuries of being made invisible.
Affirmative action seeks to create fair access by addressing long-standing inequities. It means investing in education in Indigenous areas, improving access to higher education, and creating mentoring, training programs that prepare Indigenous youth for public service, and creating pathways for leadership that strengthen community representation and voice. It means acknowledging linguistic diversity and ensuring that government assessments are not biased toward the experiences of lowland Filipinos. Simply adding ten points to a test score ignores these realities and risks reinforcing stereotypes rather than breaking them.
Moreover, this proposal points to a deeper issue in our education system, which continues to teach us to see difference as deficiency. The new Matatag curriculum, for example, bases its discussion of Philippine origins on the Austronesian migration model. This framework presents Filipinos as descendants of a massive "wave" of migrants and overlooks the communities that were already thriving in the islands. In doing so, it erases the deep histories of groups who did not "arrive" but whose ancestors shaped the landscapes and lifeways we now call Filipino. As long as our textbooks treat Indigenous peoples as remnants from a distant past or as cultural side notes rather than co-authors of the national story, we will continue to misunderstand what equality and inclusion truly mean.
Curricular revision is essential. History must be taught in a way that recognizes Indigenous agency and knowledge as central to the national story. Indigenous peoples are not figures of the past but active citizens today -- teaching in schools, cultivating land, leading organizations, and shaping policy. They are not apart from the Filipino nation; they are its foundation.
The proposal for CSC is not an isolated misstep. It reflects a national tendency to mistake paternalism for compassion. Inclusion should not be framed as a favor from those in power but as the correction of historical injustice. If we want Indigenous representation in government, we must start by ensuring that Indigenous communities have equitable access to the very systems that define merit, such as schools, universities, and fair hiring practices. Beyond that, government service itself should evolve to value Indigenous knowledge on land management, governance, policy, and community solidarity as expertise, not anecdote.
As Indigenous Peoples Month ends, we should remember that celebration must be accompanied by redress and restitution. It is not enough to wear Indigenous textiles or post messages of solidarity. We must also challenge the deeply ingrained hierarchies that continue to shape how we view and treat Indigenous communities.
Indigenous peoples do not need an extra 10 points. They need a society that stops deducting from their worth. Inclusion is not charity; it is justice. And no shortcut can replace the work we still need to do. - Rappler.com