The ‘lame duck’ effect

By Herman M. Lagon

It wasn’t a grand proclamation, but it struck a nerve.

On Bombo Radyo, Iloilo-based political law professor and arbitration expert Atty. Joenar Pueblo voiced what many have sensed but few dared say out loud: “The lame duck effect is now being felt by the Marcos camp.”

The fourth year of a six-year term is where the country begins squinting toward the future, sizing up legacies, successors, and sins. While Marcos Jr. once enjoyed a curious immunity from midterm irrelevance, the tides have started to turn. And not because of numbers or noise—but because of posture, principles, and trust. The kind of trust that, when lost, no presidential decree can restore.

Political analyst Richard Heydarian, in his usual sharp commentary, warned that BBM still commands enough capital to define a legacy—but only if he builds a coalition rooted in integrity, not convenience. It’s a tempting proposition. But in a political culture where family names often matter more than platforms, walking that road is less about clout and more about courage. And time is not on his side.

Let’s not sugarcoat it: the 2028 presidential race is already simmering. Names are floating in talk shows, tricycles, and TikToks. Duterte loyalists are circling back. Reformists are regrouping. The Left is strategizing. And BBM? Whether he likes it or not, he will be remembered not just by how he governed—but by who he empowered. Because in Philippine politics, who you keep in your corner often speaks louder than your speeches.

If he doesn’t choose a team with a credible moral compass, he risks being remembered as the man who stayed too long at the wrong table. And as someone once told me during my student activism days: “If you dine with crooks, people assume you’re part of the heist—even if you just came for dessert.”

The odd thing is, Marcos Jr. still has leverage. His party remains dominant. His economic team touts growth numbers that, while imperfect, hold steady against regional peers. He has resources. He has reach. But here’s the kicker: power without purpose is noise, and credibility without consistency fades. Just ask any teacher—you can hold the mic, but lose the class.

To be fair, the President has taken some bold steps. The handover of Rodrigo Duterte to the International Criminal Court, however polarizing, hinted at a pivot away from impunity. Appointing General Nicholas Torre III—widely respected for institutional integrity—signaled a potential crack in old-school patronage. But it’s hard to celebrate breadcrumbs when the table still holds rotten leftovers. Allegations of customs harassment persist. Inflation quietly creeps. And some of the President’s closest allies aren’t exactly Boy Scouts.

It’s no wonder that even those in the middle—neither yellow nor red—are starting to ask: What is the real direction here? Because right now, the path feels more like a survival dance than a national roadmap.

I remember visiting a public school in flood-prone northern Iloilo during a Rotary outreach. A young teacher pulled me aside, eyes tired but steady, and asked, “Sir, will this President leave behind anything my students can believe in?” It wasn’t a complaint. It was a cry for vision. For something more than optics. For leadership that serves the ones who don’t have senators for uncles or Swiss bank accounts as safety nets.

The moral pulse of a presidency doesn’t lie in SONA applause or social media trends. It lies in the quiet corners—classrooms, barangay clinics, fish ports—where promises either grow roots or rot. The lame duck effect, then, isn’t about dwindling press time. It’s about dwindling purpose.

Pueblo’s comment should stir the palace halls. Because it wasn’t rooted in politics—it was rooted in perception. And perception, once cracked, bleeds into trust. And when trust goes, legacy goes with it.

Ronald Llamas, another seasoned political observer, offered an even starker warning: Marcos Jr.’s influence could shrink further if Vice President Sara Duterte survives her impeachment saga. The old alliance that once catapulted him to Malacañang could quickly become his political undertow. If he gets caught between the shadow of his father and the resurgence of the Dutertes, what’s left for his own identity—his own name?

Because let’s be honest: what Filipinos want isn’t a revenge tour. It’s results. Decency. Delivery. Especially for the least, the last, and the lost. The people who still wait for classroom chairs, for timely ayuda, for medicine that doesn’t cost a week’s wage.

This is the crossroads. This is year four. And this—right now—is the window where Marcos Jr. must decide if he’ll leave behind more than marble plaques and PR reels. Will he be a bridge to better governance—or just another stone on the path we always trip over?

Heydarian’s challenge to form a “moral majority” may sound lofty, but it’s doable. It starts by appointing leaders with clean hands, standing firm on issues that matter (even when it hurts allies), and prioritizing country over clan. From fisherfolk in Estancia to nurses departing for the Middle East, the cry is consistent: Please, lead us with conviction—not calculation.

The lame duck moment doesn’t need to be terminal. It can be a turning point.

But BBM has to stop borrowing time from old loyalties. The strongest presidents are not those who outlive their enemies—but those who outgrow their need for them. As my late Jesuit mentor once told me, “The test of leadership isn’t in your title—it’s in the stories people tell when you’re no longer in the room.”

So the pen is still in the President’s hand. The chapters ahead are unwritten. The question now is simple: Will he write a mere footnote—or a legacy worth rereading?

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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.