Corruptio optimi pessima

https://wordandsorcery.com/the-scorpion-and-the-frog-fable/

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et me begin with a simple fable (often attributed to Russian émigré writer Ivan Krylov and retold in modern times).

A scorpion wanted to cross a river but could not swim. Seeing a frog, the scorpion asked, “Carry me across.” The frog hesitated. “If I let you ride on my back, you might sting me.”

The scorpion replied, “Why would I sting you? If I do, we will both drown.”

Trusting in reason and goodwill, the frog agreed. But halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the frog. As they began to sink, the frog cried out, “Why did you do it?” And the scorpion answered, “I could not help myself. It is my nature.”

They both drowned.

At first glance, the story warns us about misplaced trust. But when we listen more carefully, we realize that the real tragedy is not simply the sting, but that betrayal occurs at the very moment when cooperation is needed for both to live.

A Mirror Of Our Own Situation

This fable speaks uncomfortably to our own situation as a people in the Philippines.

The frog represents ordinary Filipinos—hopeful, patient, and willing to trust for the sake of the common good. The frog is not naïve. It knows the risk. It hesitates. And yet it still chooses to trust, because trust is part of its nature, and because survival requires cooperation.

The scorpion represents corruption—greed that has hardened into habit, dishonesty that has become “second nature.” Even when lives are at stake, even when disasters threaten everyone, the sting still comes. Funds meant for protection disappear. Projects meant to save communities remain unfinished. And when the floods come, everyone suffers.

The river we are crossing is real. It is climate change, intensifying storms, rising waters, and vulnerable communities. Crossing this river demands honesty, solidarity, and responsibility. And yet, again and again, corruption strikes halfway across.

This Is Not A New Story

Brothers and sisters, this is not a new story. The Gospels show us two forms of betrayal: Judas and Peter.

Judas betrays Jesus deliberately. He sells his Master for silver. His betrayal is calculated, self-serving, and unrepentant. When he realizes what he has done, he does not return to Jesus. He turns inward, trapped in despair. Judas embodies the scorpion who says, “This is my nature,” and refuses to change.

Peter, on the other hand, also betrays Jesus. He denies Him three times. Yet Peter’s betrayal is different. It is born of fear, confusion, and weakness—not greed. And when the rooster crows, Peter weeps bitterly. His betrayal is exposed, corrected, and ultimately redeemed.

This is why Jesus reacts so strongly when Peter becomes a stumbling block. When Peter tries to dissuade Jesus from the cross, Jesus rebukes him sharply: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me.”

The words are harsh because the stakes are high.

There is an old saying: "Corruptio optimi pessima"—the corruption of the best is the worst. Peter’s influence mattered. If his distortion of the mission went uncorrected, it would have derailed salvation itself. Jesus rebukes Peter not to destroy him, but to save him—and to save the mission.

The Real Danger Today

Here lies the deeper lesson.

Corruption does its greatest damage not through scandal, but through normalization. When wrongdoing goes unchallenged, it becomes expected. Betrayal is no longer shocking; it is simply assumed—like the scorpion’s nature in the fable, fixed and unquestioned.

The gravest loss is not financial but moral. Repeated betrayal reshapes the inner life of a people. This is corruptio optimi pessima in practice: the slow decay of what once held promise. Over time, this produces what psychologists describe as "learned helplessness"—a state where people no longer believe their actions can make a difference.

Why hope, if betrayal always returns?

This is how corruption truly wins—not by stealing resources, but by stealing courage.

A Call To Conversion, Not Resignation

The call is not to become suspicious frogs who never trust again. But neither does it ask us to tolerate the sting.

Jesus shows us the way: betrayal must be named, corruption must be rebuked, and conscience must be restored.

Peter was rebuked—and became a shepherd.

Judas refused conversion—and was lost.

Brothers and sisters, our nation does not need more scorpions, and it does not need frogs who have given up on the good. It needs people who still believe that conversion is possible—but who also insist that betrayal can never be excused as “nature.”

A nation does not fall when it is wounded.

It falls when it stops believing it can be healed.

Let us pray that we may have: the courage to name corruption, the humility to correct one another, and the hope to believe that change is still possible. Amen. Fr JM Manzano SJ