Senate’s ‘game of thrones’

By Herman M. Lagon

The Senate says it dislikes drama, yet the past weeks have felt like prestige TV—alliances shifting by the hour, a throne that never stays warm, cliff-hangers you wish you could rewind. Ping Lacson walked away from the blue ribbon chair mid–flood-control probe; Chiz Escudero is out, Tito Sotto is in; Alan Cayetano dangled “snap elections” the Constitution does not allow. In a caucus room, five names—Risa Hontiveros, Kiko Pangilinan, Pia Cayetano, Raffy Tulfo, JV Ejercito—are weighed for a post that can turn whispers into subpoenas. Strip the noise and one question remains: who holds power, and who will use it with clean hands? The answer reaches far beyond Manila—to a promised school building in San Enrique, a breakwater in Estancia, a nurse’s hazard pay in Pasig. Integrity is not a subplot. It is the plot.

Every Senate season has a “mace moment,” proof that rules can be honored or gamed. In 1991, aides literally wrestled for the mace, then improvised a stand-in to force a vote. The props change; the urge to bend process stays. That is why the blue ribbon matters. It is our closest thing to a public moral audit—oaths on record, receipts on the table, behavior visible. Chairs who half-commit hide behind “further study” and bury cases. Chairs who stick to evidence make enemies. That is fine. The seat is not a prize; it is a trust.

The shortlist shows clear contrasts. Hontiveros runs tight inquiries and asks clean questions but draws crossfire. Pangilinan turns hearings into road maps on food and farm issues, though optics are trickier in the majority. Pia Cayetano is a methodical lawyer who has helmed the post; her challenge is family politics inside an administration-leaning bloc. Tulfo has reach but already juggles three chairmanships and has signaled “no.” Ejercito has been candid about his limits and has demurred. No résumé disqualifies. The test is simple: evidence first, no reputation-laundering, documents over drama, and a report that is published—not buried.

Inside, the bigger game rolls on. Sotto’s return, with Lacson and Miguel Zubiri in key posts, steadies numbers that wobbled under Escudero. Reformists like Hontiveros, Aquino, and Pangilinan now sit in the majority; the minority is an odd mix that, on another week, might be at each other’s throats. Call it arithmetic, not betrayal: calendars, committees, and budgets live in the majority. Whether that choice is principled or cynical shows after the microphones dim. Will a chair schedule uncomfortable hearings without waiting for Palace signals? Will ethics complaints move or melt?

Weak oversight costs real money. Flood funds sliced into pet phases yield culverts to nowhere, drains that stop short of rivers, and billboards that promise “ongoing.” Bulk-bought machines sit idle in rural clinics. When godfathered contractors win by default, classrooms wait. A chair who forces procurement trees on record, mines COA findings for patterns, and drags ghost subcontractors into daylight does more for your barangay road than a dozen ribbon-cuttings. Deliberation is not theater. It is the discipline of fact.

Snap-election talk feels like a reset. It is not. The Constitution has no blanket “snap” switch, and mass resignations invite chaos. If the goal is accountability, faster lanes already exist—independent commissions, prosecutors who file without fear, and Senate hearings that are swift, civil, and fatal to lies. The next blue ribbon chair will be tested on speed without sloppiness: fast subpoenas, cleanly mapped contractor webs, fair treatment of whistleblowers. Justice delayed is often justice diluted.

Whatever happens, the public can keep score without picking jerseys. Follow the calendar: when is the next hearing and what documents are due? Track the paper: are audit trails, subcontracts, and change orders uploaded and readable? Watch behavior: are witnesses treated fairly, grandstanding cut short, questions anchored on facts—not families? Score the output: are there interim reports with actions, not adjectives? Transparent procurement and credible punishment save money without raising taxes. That is not ideology. That is math.

This “game of thrones” should not end with a coronation. It should end with a culture shift: fewer winks, more work; fewer tantrums, more tables of evidence; fewer dynasty pacts, more citizen pressure. There are senators—across parties—who still care about the institution’s dignity, read the footnotes, switch off swagger, and turn on sense. They are not saints, but they are fit. Support them, scrutinize them, and keep the receipts. The throne is not the story. The story is whether institutions do what they claim to do—and whether we insist they do.

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a ‘student of and for life’ who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.