One can only imagine the shock on Aristotle’s face—he who believed that humans are political animals, meant to live in communities based on justice and fairness—seeing how the world looks today, as shown so clearly in Squid Game: a world where people are no longer political animals but desperate survivors.
As the final season of this worldwide hit comes to a close, it doesn’t give us clear answers, but instead leaves us with many tough questions. The world of Squid Game is a dark reflection of our own—a place where politics touches every part of life, where fighting and working together both seem like ways to survive. The creator, Hwang Dong-hyuk, explained in an interview, “I wanted to show how this world, full of endless greed, is like a jungle—where the strong eat the weak, and people climb higher by stepping on others.” It’s a harsh truth we can’t ignore.
Fact: we live in a capitalist society where it’s often “every man for himself.” Fact: this idea is a dangerous story we keep believing. We may not be killing each other for money like in the game, but we still see hate and unfair treatment that can destroy lives.
Society is based on scarcity. Our needs and wants never end, but resources are limited. This causes struggles for power. In Squid Game, the players could quit anytime, but they didn’t. For people stuck in debt, unpaid bills, and tough lives, quitting isn’t an option. The desire to survive is stronger than the call to be kind. The Front Man and the VIPs took advantage of this, just like some leaders and rich people pretend to help the “common man” but actually serve their own interests. This reminds us of politics here in the Philippines. Where Donald Trump’s blaming immigrants and women is similar to Duterte’s war on drugs—dividing the people and hiding the real criminals. The sad truth is, the system makes us turn against each other, using promises of power and violence to get ahead. So, when the system makes monsters out of people, we have to ask: are humans naturally cruel? And if yes, then who is truly evil or good?
During the show, many hoped Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) would find the answer. But he didn’t. His last words, “humans are…,” were left open, asking us: if we are not just animals running after power, then what are we? What separates those who have power from those who suffer under it? Some say Gi-hun’s choice to save the baby and himself showed he still had kindness, unlike the others who gave in to greed. But Gi-hun was not perfect; he made mistakes and did wrong things too. What made him different was that he never lost hope in humanity’s ability to care for others. The appeal of Squid Game goes beyond its exciting games—it’s a test of our conscience, asking us if we would do the same cruel things for what we think is right.
This same question can be seen in the stories of the Martial Law era in the Philippines. During those years, many ordinary Filipinos suffered under a harsh and violent government. Families were torn apart, activists were jailed or disappeared, and fear spread across communities. Like the players in Squid Game, people were forced into impossible situations where survival meant making painful choices. The wounds from those years remain in many lives today, reminding us that cruelty is part of our history too. These stories do not give easy answers, but challenge us to think about what it means to be human, and how we can protect kindness even in dark times.
When asked if he still believed in humanity, Hwang said he was more cynical now: “I don’t have the answer.” It’s hard not to be when history shows how often people choose war and competition over fairness. Aristotle once believed in the power of the many—that democracy could work for everyone. But democracy can also fail. The “tyranny of the majority” is a real problem, not only in Squid Game, but in many societies where politics is personal and divisive.
The scariest thing isn’t just knowing cruelty is everywhere—it’s realizing it’s so close to home. In a country like the Philippines, with a history of violence and unfairness, the story of Squid Game feels very real. We also face division and danger. We gamble our future on promises that often fail. Seeing political heirs from violent families working together in Malacañang shows there’s no going back. How can we trust the majority when they keep choosing leaders who divide us?
Gi-hun’s death, and the suffering of many Filipinos during Martial Law, show the heavy price we pay for greed and corruption. Saying humans have become animals isn’t true—we’re still humans, capable of cruelty worse than animals. The real question is not whether we can be cruel, but whether we can still choose kindness and justice to be truly human again.