Mandate, Misused: What good is a Senate that forgets its power comes from the people?

By Eliza Consuelo Bellones

Spending my formative years under the Duterte administration shaped me in ways I cannot begin to describe. The normalization of violence, silencing of dissent, and erosion of truth were not abstract political concerns; they were real happenings that served as the backdrop of my childhood. So when news broke of an impeachment complaint against Sara

Duterte – daughter of the very figurehead of that era – it felt like a long-overdue reckoning. But hope is a fragile thing in this country. And what the Senate has shown us, once again, is that in this country, power only protects itself.

Impeachment, at its core, is supposed to be the great equalizer – the mechanism by which the people, through their elected representatives, hold the highest officials to account. It is not just a legal procedure; it is a democratic expression, a testament to the idea that public office is not a birthright but a public trust. That is why it is carried out by Congress and the Senate: bodies meant to reflect the will of the people. And yet, when these institutions fail to act – when they dismiss, delay, or dilute the process— they do not merely fail procedure. They fail us. They betray the very reason they were elected in the first place.

What we saw instead was a dance of delay, political calculation, and an almost comical unwillingness to offend the powers that be. Senators who once thumped their chests about good governance and anti-corruption now hid behind technicalities, party alliances, and a culture of cautious silence.

To be clear: impeachment is not meant to be easy. Nor should it be wielded like a partisan weapon. But neither should it be treated as a taboo, something too dangerous to touch when it involves someone with powerful lineage or political capital. When the very people entrusted to uphold democratic processes opt for self-preservation over public service, they don’t just fail a legal standard. They fail a moral one.

Let us not forget that the roots of impeachment lie not in the halls of Congress but in the collective will of the people. History tells us that impeachment is a tool the people fashioned to rein in abuse, preserve trust, and demand accountability. It exists because democracy, in its truest form, demands that no official be untouchable.

So when elected officials dodge that responsibility, they are not just protecting a political ally – they are silencing the people who put them there. They are saying that our voices, our votes, our outrage, are secondary to backroom allegiances and fragile egos.

In moments like this, the phrase “a seat at the table” takes on a bitter irony. The table of democracy is meant to be one where every Filipino has a voice. But as the Senate shrinks from its role, that table starts to look a lot more like a private dining room: closed off, soundproofed, and reserved only for the powerful.

We should be outraged not just at the potential abuses of one individual, but at the institutional cowardice that protects it. And we should remember that even when the Senate forgets who they serve, the people never truly lose their power.

The question now is: how long will we allow those we elected to forget that their seats – all of them – are only borrowed?