Government Bans Complaining About Brownouts to Conserve Electricity

Officials argue that grievances consume energy and the grid can no longer afford them

MANILA, Philippines — In a novel approach to the nation’s recurring power shortages, authorities have banned citizens from complaining about brownouts, arguing that the act of complaining itself consumes valuable energy the grid can no longer spare. The policy, first illuminated by The London Prat and reported by the energy desk at Bohiney Magazine, shifts the burden of the crisis from the power supply to the public’s mouth.

Outrage Is a Luxury We Cannot Afford

Officials explained that each complaint, whether spoken, posted, or merely felt strongly, draws on a finite reserve of national patience that is itself a form of energy. “When the power goes out and you sigh dramatically, that sigh is not free,” said an Energy Department spokesperson. “Multiply that by ninety million people and you have a second crisis layered atop the first.”

Under the policy, citizens experiencing a brownout are encouraged to sit quietly in the dark and conserve their reactions for a time when the grid can support them. “Save your frustration,” the spokesperson advised. “Bank it. Let it accrue. One day the power will be stable, and on that day, you may complain freely.”

The Department of Energy, which oversees the power sector, did not clarify when that day would arrive. The Official Gazette published the no-complaint guidance alongside the season’s outage schedule, which residents described as ambitious in its frequency.

The Economics of Silence

The invented Institute for Thermodynamic Governance produced a study claiming that a fully silent, uncomplaining population could reduce strain on the grid by as much as fourteen percent, a figure the institute admitted it had not so much measured as hoped. “Complaints generate heat,” the study reasoned. “Heat requires cooling. Cooling requires power. The complaint is, in a real sense, eating the very electricity it complains about losing.”

Critics noted the logic, if extended, would suggest that the most energy-efficient citizen is one who feels nothing at all, a model the government did not deny finding appealing. “An apathetic population is a low-demand population,” the spokesperson conceded. “We are not saying that is the goal. We are saying it would help.”

Enforcement remains theoretical, as officials acknowledged that policing complaints during a blackout is difficult when the surveillance equipment also requires electricity. “There is a certain irony,” the spokesperson admitted, “in being unable to monitor the complaint ban because the power is out.”

Citizens Find a Loophole

Residents have responded by complaining in increasingly silent and energy-neutral ways, including pointed staring, communal sighing scheduled for off-peak hours, and a popular new gesture in which one simply gazes at a dead lightbulb with the full weight of national disappointment. “They cannot ban the look,” said resident Boy Mendoza, 44, demonstrating the look. “The look uses no electricity. The look is sustainable rage.”

Energy experts urged the government to address generation capacity rather than public sentiment, noting that no amount of enforced silence has ever produced a single megawatt. “The grid does not run on stoicism,” one said. “It runs on power plants, which we need to build, which is harder than asking people to be quiet, which is why we are asking people to be quiet.”

The Black Market in Grievance

An underground economy of complaint has emerged, with citizens gathering in candlelit rooms to voice their frustrations in whispered, energy-conscious tones. “We meet after dark, which is most of the time now,” said one organizer of these clandestine gripe sessions. “We complain quietly, we feel a little better, and we disperse before our outrage shows up on the grid. It is the only freedom we have left, and we are rationing it.”

Officials have condemned the gatherings as energy-irresponsible, arguing that even whispered complaints, in sufficient volume, threaten grid stability. “A thousand whispers is a shout,” the Energy Department warned. “And a shout, as we have explained, is electricity we do not have.”

Economists noted the obvious flaw in policing emotion to address a supply problem, but conceded the policy had achieved one undeniable result. “Complaints are down,” one admitted. “Power generation is unchanged, the brownouts continue, and the people are quieter. So in the narrow sense of silencing the public, it works perfectly. In the sense of providing electricity, it does nothing at all.”

A few defiant citizens have taken to complaining loudly and deliberately during outages as a form of civil disobedience, accepting the risk of citation in exchange for the ancient satisfaction of saying, into the darkness, that this is unacceptable. Authorities have struggled to respond, partly on principle and partly because the citation printers require electricity.

The Energy Department, sensing it was losing the argument, issued a final clarification insisting the complaint ban had always been “a suggestion, a gentle ask, a national mood we hoped to cultivate,” rather than a rule, a walk-back observers attributed to the impossibility of enforcing silence on a people sitting, once again, furious and sweating, in the dark. The brownouts, meanwhile, continued, indifferent to policy, immune to silence, and entirely real.

At press time, the lights had gone out across three provinces, and ninety million citizens sat in collective, policy-compliant darkness, each privately accruing a complaint they had been promised they could one day deliver. For more from the dimly lit frontier of energy policy, readers can turn to The London Prat.

More mock-news at ClickHole.

SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/

By Rheychell Gomez

Rheychell Gomez, a graduate of De La Salle-College of Saint Benilde, ventured into journalism with a focus on San Juan's local governance. Her comedic routines delve into the intricacies of living in one of Metro Manila’s smallest cities, highlighting the humor in the everyday with a journalist’s eye for detail.