‘While the Guitar Weeps’ for the nation

“I look at the world and I notice it’s turning/While my guitar gently weeps…”

— George Harrison, The Beatles

The Philippines today feels like a land in quiet sorrow —  deeply disillusioned. The headlines on corruption, abuse of power and cynical manipulation of public sentiment weigh heavily on the nation’s moral fabric. People sense the need for change, yet a group seeks to hijack that yearning for their own political gain.

George Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” emerged from a similar mood — a blend of love, frustration and hope amid the human capacity for folly. Written in 1968, the song was Harrison’s lament that people fail to love one another and to learn from their mistakes.

That same year, The Beatles, which once symbolized unity and creativity, was unraveling. Lennon and McCartney were quarreling over control; Ringo had briefly quit; and Harrison, often overshadowed, struggled to be heard. Out of this tension came a quiet masterpiece — a weeping guitar echoing both his personal alienation and his yearning for harmony.

OBSERVATION AND DISILLUSIONMENT
Harrison’s opening lines capture the pain of the observer: “I look at you all, see the love there that’s sleeping…” He saw the potential for goodness buried under ego and pride — in his bandmates, in humanity and in himself. The Philippines, too, is a nation full of sleeping love. We are compassionate, resourceful and resilient, yet we allow corruption and division to dull our moral imagination.

Jose Rizal saw the same paradox. He loved his people but lamented their tolerance for mediocrity. His warning — “The glory of saving a country is not for those who contributed to its ruin” — reminds us that redemption cannot come from the same forces that bred our decline.

Like Harrison, Rizal was the quiet conscience of his generation — the observer who felt deeply and saw too clearly. Both artists teach that mere observation without engagement leads to disillusionment. We cannot stand idly by as the nation weeps and still hope for change.

THE ‘I CHING’ AND THE WEB OF CONSEQUENCES
Harrison’s inspiration came from the “I Ching,” the ancient Chinese book of changes. The phrase “gently weeps” appeared in a random book he opened — a moment of synchronicity that revealed the wisdom of connection. The “I Ching” teaches that everything is interrelated: every thought, decision and moral act ripples through society.

This is the lesson the Philippines must relearn. A single dishonest act, a bribe or a manipulated truth is not isolated — it erodes trust, weakens institutions and multiplies cynicism.

Change, therefore, cannot be born of chaos. The Catholic Church’s call for renewal “through constitutional means” reflects this truth — transformation must align with principle, not with expedience. True reform is not rebellion for rebellion’s sake, but the disciplined pursuit of harmony.

THE CLAPTON LESSON: HUMILITY AND COLLABORATION
When tension in The Beatles reached its peak, Harrison did something extraordinary: he invited Eric Clapton, a friend but not a Beatle, to play the lead guitar solo. The others were surprised. Yet that single act changed the session’s energy. Out of respect for the outsider, they set aside their quarrels and focused on the music.

Clapton’s soulful, restrained solo — recorded in one take — became the song’s emotional center. It was the cry the Beatles could no longer voice to one another.

There lies a profound lesson for the Philippines. Sometimes, healing begins when we humble ourselves enough to invite the “outsider” — the independent mind, the dissenting voice, the neutral arbiter — into our process. Progress requires humility, not hubris. Collaboration, even with those beyond our familiar circles, can restore focus and clarity.

Harrison’s gesture was not weakness; it was wisdom. By letting another play his song, he saved it from being consumed by ego. In our political life, we too must recognize when ego blocks harmony. Reform demands that leaders yield space for competence, that partisanship give way to truth, that pride bend to the common good.

LOVE AS CATALYST FOR CHANGE
At its heart, “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” is a love song — not romantic, but tough and redemptive. Harrison believed that love is the missing element in all human affairs. “I don’t know how you were diverted/You were perverted too,” he sang, lamenting how ambition and selfishness distort the better angels of our nature.

In the Philippine context, love is not soft sentimentality. It is moral courage — the refusal to answer corruption with apathy or hate with hate. Love means accountability with compassion, and reform with patience.

How do we move forward when our national song seems written in a minor key?

We awaken our sleeping love — our capacity to care deeply and act rightly. We demand moral coherence in leadership, remembering Rizal’s warning that false saviors cannot redeem. We build harmony by acknowledging our interconnectedness, as the “I Ching” teaches, and by listening to the weeping guitar — the conscience that mourns, yet still believes.

Harrison’s masterpiece, born in discord, became an anthem of unity. His humility invited healing. His lament turned into beauty.

So must ours. The guitar weeps not in surrender, but in hope — that we may yet find harmony amid our dissonance.

The views expressed here are his own and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of his office or FINEX.

Benel Dela Paz Lagua was EVP and chief development officer at the Development Bank of the Philippines. He is an active FINEX member and advocate of risk-based lending for SMEs. Today, he is an independent director in progressive banks and in some NGOs.