The Silence After: On Grief and the Vacuum It Leaves Behind

A friend lost his wife recently. The other day has only been 40 days since her passing. Still, there are no correct words for moments like that. We reach for language—condolences, strength, prayers—but they feel insufficient, almost procedural. In truth, what we are trying to do is stand beside someone at the edge of something we cannot enter.

During the wake, I said what I could, which amounted to almost nothing. After the message was sent, I sat quietly. Grief, even when it is someone else’s, has a way of finding its own door. Suddenly, I was back in 2002—when my mother passed.

What I remember most is not the moment she died. It was what came after —the vacuum.

The Grief

We often think of grief as an event. A moment marked by tears, rituals, and the finality of loss. Grief is not a moment. It is a condition that settles in quietly, almost imperceptibly, and then refuses to leave.

The first days are full. There are people, arrangements, decisions to be made, groceries to be bought. There is structure in mourning—wakes, prayers, visits, conversations that repeat themselves because people do not know what else to say. In that fullness, there is a strange kind of support. You are carried, even if only temporarily, by the presence of others. Eventually, the noise recedes. People return to their lives—as they should. That is when grief begins its real work.

The Vacuum

The vacuum is not dramatic. It does not announce itself. It is the empty chair at the table; it is the smell of perfume on clothes left to be boxed and kept in a corner; it is the absence of a voice you are used to hearing at a particular time of day; it is the instinct to reach for the phone—and then remembering there is no one on the other end.

It is routine disrupted, structure dissolved, presence removed.

What disappears is not only the person. It is the architecture they held together in your life.  When that architecture collapses, even the smallest things feel unfamiliar.

In my case, losing my mother was not just losing a parent. It was losing a constant.

There are people in our lives who anchor us in ways we do not fully understand until they are gone. They are not always the loudest presence. Sometimes, they are simply there—steady, reliable, forming the background against which everything else happens.

When they leave, the world does not fall apart in obvious ways. It shifts. You are left trying to understand what exactly has changed.

The Pain

Grief is often described as pain. And it is. Pain suggests something sharp, something that peaks and then subsides. 

The vacuum is different. It is not sharp. It is hollow; it is nothingness, emptiness.

It lingers in the ordinary moments—when there is nothing to distract you, nothing to occupy your attention. It is in the spaces between activities, in the pauses of the day. It is when you realize that life continues exactly as before—but without someone who made that life what it was. That realization is difficult to explain to those who have not experienced it.

The World Continues

What makes grief more complex is that the world does not stop. Deadlines remain. Work continues. Responsibilities do not adjust themselves to loss. In many cases, you are expected—implicitly or explicitly—to return to normal.

And so you do. You show up. You function. You respond to emails. You attend meetings. You make decisions.

From the outside, it appears that life has resumed. But internally, something is still unsettled. There is a part of you that has not caught up with the rhythm of everything else.

Over time, the intensity changes. The sharpness of loss softens. The constant awareness fades into something less immediate. You begin to remember without the same weight. You learn to navigate the spaces that once felt empty.

The vacuum does not disappear completely. It becomes part of the landscape. You learn where it is, how to move around it, and how to live with it. Perhaps that is what we mean when we say we have “moved on.” It is not that the loss is gone but that we have found a way to continue despite it.

Recognizing

When I think of my friend now, I do not worry about what to say. There is very little that can be said. Grief does not need explanation. It does not require solutions. What it needs, more than anything, is recognition.

An understanding that what he is experiencing is not something to be resolved quickly or neatly. It is something to be lived through—day by day, moment by moment. That the vacuum he feels is not a sign of weakness. It is a reflection of what was once there.

If there is anything I have learned about loss, it is this:

We do not grieve because we are unable to move forward.
We grieve because something meaningful existed, something real, something that shaped us in ways we continue to carry.

Rearranging Our Lives

Death does not only take a life. It rearranges the lives of those left behind—quietly, permanently. In that rearrangement, we are asked to do something very difficult:

To continue living in a world that is no longer the same, while slowly learning how to make it whole again.

- Direk Noreen

P.S. This piece is for my mother—her life, and her death. And for my friend, who now walks this difficult path. I did not expect to write this today. But somewhere between memory and meaning, the words came.

As I write this, I realize—I am crying, not loudly, not in the way grief is often imagined but quietly, in the same way it returns.

Image Credit: This picture of my 18-year old mother on her birthday was part of the collection curated by my uncle, Nap Formaran.

Learning Organization Series | Part 5 of 5 - Closing the Loop: The Discipline of Learning

This is the final part of a five-part series on becoming a learning organization—and it brings me back to a moment that quietly captured what learning truly demands.

A little over two months ago, may meeting kami kasama ang internal audit team ng aming opisina. The purpose was not to open a new audit cycle. It was to update and reconcile the results of audits conducted from 2022 to 2024 — and to finally close the loop.

Those were three audit years. Matagal na. There were  multiple findings, corrective action plans, follow-ups, and monitoring sheets. Yet, there we were — still consolidating, still validating, still determining what had truly been resolved and what had merely been documented as resolved.

That meeting left more questions than answers.

Detection Is Not Yet Learning

In problem-solving, we are taught that once the problem is clearly defined, the solution is already halfway there. Clarity sharpens direction. Diagnosis narrows options. The rest is execution.

But audit — and learning — are different. Identifying the gap is only the beginning.

Finding a nonconformity is technical. It requires observation, documentation, comparison against standards. But closing it demands something deeper: discipline, ownership, redesign, and sustained attention over time.

A nonconformity can be written in minutes. Resolving it may take months — sometimes years.

Because closure is not acknowledgment. Closure is learning applied.

Why Do We Struggle to Learn?

The question surfaced quietly: Why does it take so long to close audit findings?

Is it competence? Commitment? Competing priorities? Structural design? Perhaps all of the above.

Competence matters. If we address symptoms instead of root causes, the same findings return — renamed, repackaged, but essentially unchanged.

Commitment matters. If audit responses are treated as compliance submissions rather than improvement commitments, momentum fades after the meeting.

But beneath both lies something more structural - handoffs.

A corrective action moves from auditor to process owner, from process owner to division head, from division head to another unit for redesign, from that unit to documentation control and from documentation control to monitoring. Somewhere along that chain, urgency diffuses.

Quality rarely fails inside a step. It fails between steps. And learning, too, is lost there.

The Discipline of Finishing

Closing the loop is not clerical work. It is the discipline of learning. It is where organizations prove that they can convert insight into action, and action into improvement.

If findings from 2022 are still being reconciled in 2024, then the issue is no longer the finding. It is the system’s ability to learn.

Audit is easy to start. Learning is harder to finish. And yet, that is where quality lives.

Two months after that meeting, I am still reflecting on it. A learning organization is not defined by how well it detects problems. It is defined by how well it closes them. Because in the end, if we see the gap but do not close it, if we document the weakness but do not remove it, then we are not learning. We are just documenting. That is not transformation. That is memory without movement.

- Director Noreen

Image source: AI-generated illustration created for this article.

Learning Organization Series | Part 4 of 5 - Beyond the Numbers: On what metrics cannot measure

At a recent gathering to honor a retiring colleague, I realized something uncomfortable: what we remember and value are often the very things our metrics fail to capture.

As stories were shared, what stood out was not how many targets she met or how fast she delivered—but how she exercised judgment, protected her people, and held the line when it mattered.

It made me reflect on how we define performance. Most of us follow metrics. We compare, measure, and scan dashboards even when no one asks us to. Numbers feel objective. Rankings feel decisive.

When one result exceeds another—right or wrong—we become enthusiastic simply because it is higher: mas mataas, mas mabilis, mas marami.

But higher does not always mean better.

When Numbers Shape Behavior

Metrics do not just measure performance—they shape it.

An office reports 100% on-time submission. Excellent. But staff are exhausted, outputs rushed, errors fixed later. The metric is met. The system is strained.

One unit delivers in two days, another in four. The faster one is praised. But what if speed skips safeguards—and the slower team prevents risk?

We reward velocity. We rarely measure prudence. What is not measured is not practiced—therefore not learned.

Even budget utilization misleads. Near-perfect spending signals efficiency. Strategic savings look like underperformance.

Metrics simplify complexity. That is their power—and their risk.

In a learning organization, metrics are not controls. They are signals—shaping what we notice, question, and improve. What we measure drives behavior. Over time, it shapes what—and how—the organization learns.

The Invisible Metrics

Not all metrics are numerical. Some are behavioral - "mas motherly, mas mabait, mas accommodating.” These are rarely written—but they are deeply felt.

Women leaders are often measured twice: deliver results — and deliver warmth. A male leader is decisive and called strong. A female leader is decisive and called intense.

There have been moments in meetings where I sensed the evaluation was not about the decision — but the tone. Was I too firm? Not warm enough?

Being mabait is admirable. But being responsible is essential.

Institutions cannot run on temperament alone. They run on clarity, standards, and judgment.

A learning organization must be careful not only about what it measures—but also what it expects, even when unspoken. These invisible metrics also shape behavior. What is repeatedly expected is eventually learned.

When Metrics Become Morality

The deeper danger begins when metrics — numerical or emotional — become moral indicators. High score equals good. Soft equals good. Lower score or firm tone equals lacking.

Leadership is not a spreadsheet nor is it a personality contest. A leader who slows down a process for ethical review may lower productivity numbers. A manager who protects staff from burnout may reduce visible output.

If we worship metrics uncritically, we risk punishing wisdom. Metrics measure output. They do not always measure integrity, sustainability, or courage. Yet, these are precisely the qualities that sustain institutions over time—and allow them to learn, not just perform.

A Better Question

The discipline is not to reject metrics. It is to contextualize them. Instead of asking, Did we hit the target?

We might ask: What behavior is this incentivizing? What invisible cost is not captured? Is this aligned with our values?

In a true learning organization, metrics are not endpoints. They are signals that help us reflect, adjust and become better. 

Not everything that counts can be counted. Not everything counted truly counts.

In systems that prize comparison, maturity means looking beyond “mas mataas” — and asking whether it is wiser, fairer, and sustainable. 

A learning organization is not defined by how well it performs against metrics—but by how well it questions them, learns from them, and adapts because of them. That may be the harder metric. But perhaps it is the one that truly matters.

- Director Noreen 

Learning Organization Series | Part 3 of 5 - Performance Management in the Public Sector: Thirty Years of Hard Lessons

More than thirty years in public service have taught me things no textbook ever could. You sit through reorganizations and restructuring, survive changes in administration, and watch the same problems resurface—repackaged under new names with fresh acronyms.

Nowhere is this more evident than in performance management: a discipline the public sector has invested in repeatedly, yet has struggled to translate into consistent practice.

But viewed through the lens of a learning organization, this is not just a performance management problem. It is a learning failure.

In this third part of the series, I share four vignettes—each one revealing why organizations struggle not just to perform, but to learn from their own performance. 

Vignette One: The Bloody Business of Appraisal

Performance appraisal has always been — and I use this word deliberately — bloody. Madugo! The moment you introduce comparison, you introduce conflict. Stack ranking, forced distribution, relative scoring: whatever you call it, the message is the same. Someone has to lose so that someone else can win. 

In a learning organization, comparison should generate insight. Instead, it generates silence.

Then there is the Productivity Incentive Bonus, now Performance-Based Bonus — a well-intentioned mechanism that in practice becomes a source of quiet resentment. Equal rewards despite unequal contributions send a powerful signal: effort is not meaningfully recognized. Over time, this erodes not just motivation—but feedback. People stop raising the bar because the system does not distinguish who actually met it. Without differentiation, there is nothing to learn from.

Vignette Two: The Performance Conversation as Theater

Performance conversations, as they are typically practiced, are a futile exercise.

I have sat in enough of them — and facilitated enough of them — to know what usually happens. A supervisor and an employee convene at the prescribed time, go through the prescribed form, exchange the prescribed pleasantries, and part ways having changed nothing. The supervisor wanted the conversation to end. The employee wanted a good rating. Both got what they came for, and neither got what they needed.

Real performance conversations are uncomfortable. They require a supervisor who knows what good work actually looks like, who can point to specific behaviors and outcomes, and who is willing to say hard things with both clarity and care. They require an employee who is open to hearing where they fall short — not just validated for showing up.

Instead, what most public sector organizations get is compliance masquerading as development. The form is filed. The box is checked. Nothing changes—because nothing real was discussed.

Learning requires discomfort. And most systems are designed to avoid it.

Vignette Three: The Conviction That Has Not Changed Since 2005

In 2005, I said something in a lecture that I would still say today:

No amount of new system can improve performance if targets are not clearly set and results are not measured.

This is not just a performance principle. It is a learning principle. A learning organization depends on feedback loops. But feedback cannot exist without clarity of expectations and evidence of results. When targets are vague, there is nothing to compare against. When measurement is weak, there is nothing to reflect on. When reflection is absent, learning does not happen.

We introduce systems, platforms, and reforms—but fail to build the most basic learning mechanism: knowing what success looks like and whether we achieved it. Without that, everything else is decoration.

Vignette Four: The Priority Problem

Perhaps the most candid observation is this: performance management is often treated as an administrative requirement rather than a leadership discipline. A learning organization cannot exist where learning itself is not a priority.

I was reminded of this during a session with a local government unit. The question came plainly: "Why do SPMS? It is too tedious. We have more important things to do." It was an honest question—and it revealed the real issue. It is not the system, not the forms nor the guidelines. It was about priority. Because when performance is not a priority, neither is learning.

What follows is predictable:

• Inefficiencies persist because no one studies outcomes
• Omissions recur because no one reviews them
• Mediocrity stabilizes because no one challenges it

Leadership attention determines what an organization learns from—and what it ignores.

What This Means for a Learning Organization

If a learning organization is one that improves because it reflects, then performance management is its most critical mechanism. But only if it is done right.

After 33 years, I no longer look for the perfect system. I look for three conditions that enable learning:

1. Leadership that treats performance as a practice - - not a report. Not a requirement. But something discussed, questioned, and acted upon.
2. Targets that enable feedback. Clear, specific, and measurable—so that results can actually be evaluated and learned from.
3. Conversations that produce insight. Honest, evidence-based, and regular—not annual rituals, but continuous sense-making.

None of these are technical. They are behavioral. That is precisely why they are difficult.

The Real Lesson

Seen this way, the persistence of weak performance management systems is not surprising. We have been trying to fix a learning problem with technical solutions. But learning does not come from templates. It comes from discipline. From the willingness to ask:

What did we intend?
What actually happened?
What will we do differently?

Until organizations build that discipline—consistently and visibly—they will continue to repeat the same problems under new names.

After thirty years, this is the clearest lesson I can offer:

An organization that cannot learn from its performance cannot improve its performance.

And no system—no matter how well designed—can substitute for that.

- Director Noreen

Image Credit: Generated using AI (DALL·E) based on the author’s original concept.

Learning Organization Series | Part 2 of 5 - From Compliance to Capability: The Competency-based HRMS Shift

As the second of a five-part series on becoming a learning organization this April, this piece focuses on a system that quietly holds the potential to make it real.

For years, we have spoken about becoming a learning organization. We have written about it, trained on it, and designed programs around it. Yet in many cases, learning has remained an aspiration—something we encourage, but do not consistently build into the way our institutions actually work.

This is where the shift begins. Competency-Based Human Resource Management Systems (CBHRMS) move us from compliance to capability—not by adding another layer of process, but by embedding learning into how we define work, assess performance, and develop people.

A Reform We Chose to Build

In 2011, when we began developing the competency-based HR systems in the CSC, we did not start from a blank page. There were already models and frameworks from other organizations and countries. We studied them closely—benchmarking against the Singapore Public Service and even private institutions.

But we made a deliberate choice. We did not want to merely borrow—we wanted to build something grounded in our own public sector realities and something that would work not just in theory, but in the day-to-day complexity of Philippine bureaucracy.

It took time. Nearly a year to complete the policy foundations. Not because the concepts were difficult—but because alignment is difficult.

• Alignment between what the organization says it values and what it actually measures.
• Alignment between job descriptions and real work.
• Alignment between performance and capability.

What CBHRMS Actually Changes

CBHRMS is often misunderstood as another HR framework to comply with. It is not. It is a shift in foundation.

Under this system, competencies are no longer peripheral—they are central. They shape how we recruit, how we assess performance, how we develop people, and how we recognize contribution.

This is the real shift: From asking, “Did you complete your tasks?” to asking, “Do you have the capability to deliver, improve, and lead?”

That difference may seem subtle. It is not.

Where the Shift Becomes Real

The change becomes most visible in performance management. Outputs still matter. Results are still measured. But how those results are achieved now matters just as much.

When competencies are assessed alongside outputs, something important happens:

• Integrity becomes observable
• Service excellence becomes demonstrable
• Leadership becomes behavioral

Performance conversations change. They no longer end with ratings. They lead to feedback, and then to development. This is where CBHRMS quietly transforms organizations—not through forms, but through the discipline of continuous improvement.

From HR System to a Learning System

At its core, CBHRMS is not just an HR reform. It is a learning system.

It embeds a cycle into everyday work:

Define competencies
Assess performance and behaviors
Identify gaps
Provide development interventions
Reassess and improve

This is what learning organizations do. They do not treat learning as an activity. They design it as a system.

Why It Has Been Difficult

If the system is this clear, why has it taken so long to take root? It is because CBHRMS demands what many organizations find uncomfortable:

• Clear standards;
• Honest assessment;
• Consistent application; and
• Leadership ownership.

Hindi ito pwedeng compliance lang.

You cannot shortcut behavioral evidence. You cannot claim capability without demonstrating it. And so, in many cases, implementation stops at the surface—forms are completed, ratings are given, but the learning loop remains open.

Why This Moment Matters

The recent issuance of the CSC does not introduce a new idea. It reinforces a necessary one.

Competencies are now explicitly integrated across HR systems—from recruitment to performance to development. This is no longer optional alignment. It is expected integration.

For agencies serious about transformation, this is low-hanging fruit. Because before systems, before analytics, before digital tools— you need capable people.

On Continuity and Quiet Work

I sometimes think about that original team of 17 who worked on this in 2011. Today, only seven of us remain in the CSC. Others have retired, moved on, or passed away.

We did not think of it as legacy work at the time. We were simply trying to build something that made sense. But reforms are like that. They are not always carried forward by those who started them—but by those who choose to continue them.

We do not become a learning organization by intention alone—but by designing systems that make learning part of how work gets done.

- Director Noreen

Reference: 

Civil Service Commission. (2026). Guidelines on the Development of Agency Competency-Based Human Resource Management System (CSC Resolution No. 2600005, January 6, 2026).

Image: Author-generated caricature using AI (ChatGPT/DALL·E), illustrating the contrast between Traditional HR and Competency-Based HRMS (2026).

Image: AI-generated (ChatGPT/DALL·E), conceptualized by the author to illustrate the Competency-Based HRMS cycle (2026).

Learning Organization Series | Part 1 of 5 - Becoming a Learning Organization

As the first of a five-part series on becoming a learning organization, I begin with a question that has stayed with me for a decade.

Ten years ago, at the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy in Singapore, I wrote a paper on learning organizations and the idea of a world-class bureaucracy. I anchored it on McKinsey’s 7S Framework — strategy, structure, systems, shared values, style, staff, and skills — and argued that alignment across these elements creates institutions that adapt and endure.

My professor, known for his practical and unsparing feedback, listened quietly and said:

“I agree with everything you wrote. But how exactly will you implement that?”

That question has stayed with me ever since because theory is elegant but implementation is unforgiving.

The Allure of the Idea

The learning organization — popularized by Peter Senge — promises something deeply attractive: an institution that continuously reflects, improves, and evolves and one that does not merely react to change but anticipates it.

Its disciplines are well known:

• Systems thinking
• Shared vision
• Team learning
• Challenging mental models
• Personal mastery

In academic spaces, it feels inevitable. But in "real" institutions — especially in public service — learning competes with urgency. Deadlines crowd out reflection. Compliance overrides curiosity. Reporting cycles replace honest debriefs. Performance metrics measure outputs, not insights.

We say we value learning but we rarely design institutions or organizations for it.

Why Most Organizations Plateau

I have seen many institutions assume they are learning organizations because they conduct trainings, strategic planning sessions, benchmarking trips and technology upgrades.

Training per se is not always transformative. Learning only occurs when behavior changes—when decisions improve because new information has been truly internalized.

The real test is simple: After a mistake or a new data point, do we decide differently next time? If not, nothing was learned — only observed.

Over time, knowledge dissipates. Projects conclude. Teams disband. Reports are submitted. Lessons remain in conversations but never migrate into systems — sometimes, they are even quietly denied.

Institutional memory becomes dependent on personalities rather than processes. That is not learning. That is accumulation without integration.

The Public Sector Reality

What I have learned is that learning in government is more complex in practice than in theory. We operate within legal mandates, audit regimes, public scrutiny, and fiscal constraints—where stability is essential and accountability is non-negotiable.

Mistakes are not just internal matters; they can become headlines — and, in some cases, escalate into administrative accountability. This reality produces caution. Sometimes excessive caution.

Risk feels threatening. Experimentation feels unsafe. Admitting error can appear career-limiting.

And yet, precisely because we serve the public, we cannot afford rigidity. Policies evolve. Technology accelerates. Citizens expect faster, better, more transparent service. If learning is not part of how we work, improvement slows and eventually stops.

What Implementation Actually Looks Like

My answer to my professor is now clearer. A learning organization begins with leadership, but is sustained through architecture — systems that embed learning beyond individual personalities.

1. Make Reflection Routine

After-action reviews should not be reserved for crises. They must be embedded into regular operations. Reflecting on these questions is critical:

• What assumptions proved wrong?
• What bottlenecks surprised us?
• What would we redesign?

More importantly — where are these insights stored, indexed, and retrievable? Without knowledge capture, reflection evaporates.

In the modernization work I have been involved in over the past years, I have come to appreciate that digitization is not merely about scanning documents or automating workflows. It is about preserving institutional learning — ensuring that decisions, rationales, and adjustments are traceable and transferable.

Knowledge management is not an accessory to reform. It is the backbone of continuity.

2. Protect Psychological Safety

No one surfaces inconvenient truths in environments where reputational risk outweighs institutional improvement. Leaders must model intellectual humility: “What are we missing?”, “What does the data actually show?”, “What can we improve?”

If people fear blame more than they value effectiveness, learning stalls.

In reform initiatives, the hardest part is not the technology. I saw this firsthand in a recent project — people hesitate to speak up, especially in front of a boss. Creating a culture where staff can point out system flaws without being labeled resistant or negative is the real work.

Learning requires candor. Candor requires safety.

3. Align Incentives with Improvement

If promotions reward only compliance and stability, then compliance and stability will dominate behavior.

Responsible experimentation must not be punished. Constructive dissent must not be mistaken as disloyalty.

Modernization is not simply about introducing new systems. It is about aligning incentives so that improvement is recognized, not merely tolerated. Otherwise, change remains cosmetic.

4. Use Data as a Discipline

Dashboards are common. Honest interpretation is rare.

A learning organization does not use data to justify decisions already made. It uses data to challenge them.

In several transformation efforts I have seen, the turning point came not from grand announcements but from uncomfortable metrics — backlog trends, process delays, duplication rates — that forced redesign.

In practice, I’ve found that learning begins where ego gives way to evidence.

5. Align Shared Values with Daily Practice

In McKinsey’s 7S, shared values sit at the center for a reason.

If we declare excellence but accept mediocrity, declare integrity but overlook small inconsistencies, declare digital transformation but retain manual redundancies — the organization fractures internally.

Alignment is behavioral. Culture is not what we print on tarpaulins. It is what we consistently permit.

The Discipline of Institutional Memory

One of the quiet lessons I have learned over the past decade is this:

Organizations do not automatically remember. People remember. Systems forget.

If processes are not documented, if lessons are not archived, if improvements are not codified into revised workflows, then every leadership transition resets progress.

That is why knowledge management must be intentional. It must move beyond repositories and become part of governance, reporting, and redesign cycles.

A learning organization does not rely on heroic memory. It relies on structured recall.

A Decade Later

Looking back, I understand my professor’s question more clearly. He was not asking for theoretical clarity. He was asking for operational courage.

It is easy to admire the idea of a learning organization. It is harder to confront  inefficiencies, challenge assumptions, and redesign entrenched systems. It requires leaders who value improvement more than image. It requires institutions mature enough to understand that accountability and learning are not opposites. Accountability ensures standards. Learning ensures evolution. Without accountability, learning becomes reckless. Without learning, accountability becomes rigid. The strongest institutions manage both.

Ten years ago, I had a framework. Today, I have a deeper respect for systems, culture, incentives, and documentation.

If asked again how to build a learning organization, my answer would be simple:

• Design reflection into process. 
• Capture knowledge deliberately — and make sure it is actually used. 
• Align incentives with improvement. 
• Protect those who surface truth. 
• Adjust decisions based on evidence. 
• Repeat consistently.

A learning organization is not declared. It is practiced — in documentation protocols, in modernization blueprints, in redesign meetings, in honest performance reviews. Perhaps that is the real answer to the question I was asked a decade ago. Implementation is not a moment. It is a discipline.

- Director Noreen

Image Source: Adapted from Peter Senge, The Fifth Discipline: The Art and Practice of the Learning Organization.

Four Days, Ten Hours, One Question: Are We Working Better—or Just Longer?

It has been almost a month since flexible work arrangements were implemented across government, and nearly three weeks since we in the Civil Service Commission began operating under a compressed workweek.

The reason was clear. It was not driven by convenience or trend, but by necessity—rising fuel costs and increasing pressure on energy supply. Government was called to lead in conservation, not just in policy, but in practice.

The response was decisive: fewer days in the office, less travel, reduced energy consumption.

Four days. Ten hours each. In the private sector, they call this 4/11 arrangement.

On paper, it appears to be a practical solution. But policies are rarely tested on paper. They are tested in the quiet realities of daily work.

The real question, then, is not whether we have changed the schedule. It is this:

Are we working better—or just working longer?

Beyond Fuel, Toward Function

At its core, the compressed workweek is an energy measure. Every avoided trip reduces fuel consumption,  reduced office day lowers electricity demand and virtual meeting replaces physical movement.

These are real, measurable gains. But what makes this shift consequential is that it does not stop at energy. It brings forward a deeper question: Can government operate differently—and still deliver the same, or better, results?

If we reduce fuel use but weaken service delivery, then we have only shifted the burden—not solved the problem. Efficiency must be both operational and functional.

The Shift Beneath the Schedule

Policies like this are often framed as administrative adjustments. But beneath that surface lies something deeper. This is not just a change in schedule. It is a test of whether our institutions can shift from:

• measuring presence to measuring performance
• managing time to managing outcomes
• relying on physical proximity to enabling system-driven work

In many ways, it is a test of organizational maturity. While fuel savings may have triggered this shift institutional discipline will determine whether it succeeds.

The Illusion of Compliance

In government, we are very good at compliance. We can follow reporting hours, complete ten-hour days,  submit attendance records on time or reduce office days—and report energy savings. However,  compliance is not the same as success. An office can consume less electricity—and still deliver slower service. An employee can travel less—and accomplish less. What compressed workweeks expose is this:

Reducing inputs does not automatically improve outputs.

If inefficiency exists, compressing time does not eliminate it. It concentrates it.

What We Should Really Be Watching

At this stage, the most important indicators are not found in attendance logs—or even in utility bills. They are found in the lived experience of work.

Are backlogs increasing—or decreasing?
Are clients being served—or being deferred?
Are decisions faster—or simply delayed into the next working day?
Are employees more focused—or more fatigued?

The real success of this schedule shift is not measured only in liters of fuel saved— but in whether public service remains reliable, responsive, and intact.

And perhaps most telling: Are we beginning to work differently—or are we trying to fit old habits into a new schedule?

The Discipline of Letting Go

A compressed workweek demands something that is rarely discussed in policy issuances: Letting go.

Letting go of:

• meetings that consume time—and energy—without clear outcomes
• processes that require physical presence when they no longer need to
• approval layers that prolong decisions and extend resource use
• the quiet belief that being seen working is the same as working well

True efficiency is not only about using less fuel. It is about wasting less effort.

Where Leadership Is Tested

If there is one place where this shift will succeed or fail, it is leadership. Ultimately, it is not policy design, but daily behavior that will determine its success.

Do leaders:

• measure outputs—or still look for who is “present”?
• protect focus—or fill calendars with meetings?
• enable trust—or tighten control in response to uncertainty?

In a compressed workweek, the margin for inefficiency narrows. What used to be absorbed by time is now exposed.

The Quiet Signals

Three weeks is early. But not too early to notice patterns. If we are attentive, we will begin to see:

• offices that have reduced both energy use and unnecessary work
• teams that have become sharper, more deliberate
• individuals who are doing less—but achieving more

And on the other side:

• fatigue masked as productivity
• delays justified by fewer working days
• systems strained because they were not designed for flexibility

These signals matter. They tell us whether we are achieving true efficiency—or merely redistributing effort.

More Than an Energy Measure

This schedule shift began as a response to fuel and energy constraints. It has become something more. It is now a question of institutional readiness:

Can we deliver the same—or better—public service with fewer days in the office, less travel, and lower energy consumption?

If the answer is yes, then this measure becomes a model for doing more with less. If the answer is no, then it reveals where our systems—and habits—are not yet ready.

One Question That Matters

At this point, the most honest question we can ask is not about policy, but about ourselves:

What has actually changed in the way we work?

It is not just about how often we report or how long we stay, but how we think, decide, and deliver.

In the end, success will not be measured only by how much fuel we saved, but by whether we learned to work better because we had to. Reducing fuel use was the reason for this shift. Becoming more efficient should be its result.

- Director Noreen

References:

Office of the President. (2026). Memorandum Circular No. 114: Directing all government agencies and instrumentalities to strictly adopt energy conservation protocols. Malacañang, Manila.

Civil Service Commission internal policy adopting a compressed workweek and energy conservation protocols