By Herman M. Lagon

A few years ago, a public school teacher in Iloilo quietly told me something that has stayed with me longer than many political speeches. She said she once received three separate memoranda in one month because of clerical mistakes involving school reports. One missing signature. One delayed submission. One incorrect date. Nothing involving millions. Nothing involving national security. Just paperwork. Yet she spent sleepless nights worrying whether those errors would affect her evaluation. That memory returns whenever billion-peso controversies are brushed aside on television or defended blindly online. The impeachment proceedings against Vice President Sara Duterte now raise a difficult question: does accountability still apply equally in this country?

That is why blindly relying on authority figures becomes dangerous in situations like this. Many Filipinos were raised to respect authority almost instinctively. Teachers, priests, mayors, police officers, senators, broadcasters, and political dynasties often carry social weight beyond the strength of their actual arguments. Sometimes people accept claims simply because they came from a powerful or familiar name. “Basta Duterte.” “Basta senador.” “Basta abogado.” Yet democracy weakens when citizens stop examining evidence for themselves and start outsourcing judgment to personalities.

A senator defending delay does not automatically make delay constitutional. A loyal ally dismissing allegations as “politics” does not erase documents, testimonies, audit findings, or legitimate legal questions. Neither does a lawmaker’s “bad boy” image automatically make him principled, correct, or strong. Even popular leaders can still be wrong. Even critics can sometimes be right.

The impeachment complaints against Duterte matter because they touch on issues ordinary Filipinos care about: trust, accountability, and public funds. These remain allegations, not convictions, but accusations involving huge amounts of money deserve careful scrutiny.

Part of what makes the issue emotional is the Duterte name itself. Many supporters still see it as a symbol of strong leadership. It would be unfair to reduce all of them to fanaticism. Many are simply tired of leaders who speak well during campaigns but disappear during difficult times. Yet admiration cannot replace scrutiny. Elections grant authority, not immunity. A principal can still face investigation. A governor can still undergo audit. A vice president should not become exempt from difficult questions simply because supporters remain loyal—or blind.

That is precisely why the Senate’s role matters enormously. Impeachment exists to test whether public trust was broken, not to create endless political theater. The House files the case; the Senate examines the evidence. Still, some senators argue that restraint is necessary to keep the process from becoming partisan revenge. That concern deserves consideration too. But the opposite danger also exists: when delays, evasiveness, selective interpretations, or obvious political maneuvering begin weakening public confidence in constitutional processes themselves. The recent statement released by law deans and law professors across the country reflects this concern strongly. Their argument is straightforward: once constitutional requirements are met, the Senate cannot simply treat impeachment as optional. Refusing to proceed “forthwith,” they argue, risks undermining the spirit of Article XI itself.

Many Filipinos sensed this tension immediately when debates about the meaning of “forthwith” started sounding more like linguistic gymnastics than constitutional fidelity. Ordinary people may not memorize constitutional provisions, but they recognize stalling when they see it. A tricycle driver waiting hours for boundary income understands delay. A parent waiting months for hospital assistance understands delay. A teacher waiting years for promotion papers understands delay. So when highly educated officials suddenly stretch plain constitutional language into political convenience, suspicion naturally follows. The frustration is no longer merely legal. It becomes moral. People begin wondering whether institutions are still protecting the Constitution—or simply protecting allies.

Recent surveys suggest that this frustration is not isolated. Social Weather Stations surveys cited by Stratbase reportedly showed that 88 percent of Filipinos believe Duterte should answer the charges through an impeachment process. OCTA Research figures reflected similarly high support for a formal Senate trial. Those numbers matter not because surveys determine guilt, but because they reveal something deeper: Filipinos want transparency. They want the questions answered publicly instead of endlessly redirected into political theater. Even many citizens who still personally like Duterte appear willing to support due process because they understand that accountability is not automatically persecution. In fact, a fair trial can also become an opportunity for vindication if accusations truly lack merit.

Social media has made careful discussion far more difficult. Outrage now travels faster than context. A viral clip can now outrun verified legal documents online. Even after fact-checkers clarified that Duterte was neither cleared nor shielded permanently from impeachment, misleading claims continue spreading because politics increasingly resembles fandom. Once loyalty hardens, facts start feeling personal.

Teachers know this problem too well. Inside classrooms, many now struggle against a culture where popularity can overpower evidence. A viral influencer can suddenly sound more believable than textbooks, journals, statisticians, or journalists. This impeachment controversy shows how noise and blind loyalty can bury careful truth-seeking.

Perhaps most alarming are reports that some lawmakers allegedly fear the political price of supporting impeachment. Democracies rarely break overnight. They weaken when principle becomes negotiable. More often, they slowly erode through tolerated shortcuts, delayed accountability, and selective standards. A Senate that appears more loyal to personalities than constitutional duty risks sending the message that power matters more than process.

Still, fairness demands restraint too. Duterte deserves due process. She deserves the opportunity to answer allegations fully and clearly. Impeachment should never become mob punishment, online humiliation, or revenge disguised as civic virtue. There is a difference between demanding accountability and celebrating destruction. Democracies mature not when they eliminate political enemies, but when they prove institutions can investigate even the powerful without abandoning fairness. The country has already suffered enough from politics treated like permanent warfare. We all deserve something steadier than that.

Somewhere tonight, another public school teacher will once again spend personal money for classroom materials because procurement remains painfully slow. Another nurse will continue working in an under-equipped hospital. Another public health doctor may quietly skip dinner just to shoulder the ECG of a poor patient. Another fisherman will compute whether rising fuel costs still leave enough income to feed a family. Another OFW will quietly set aside part of a hard-earned salary abroad just to keep a family home standing while hoping public institutions back home remain worthy of sacrifice.

Ordinary Filipinos live daily with the consequences whenever public funds are mishandled, delayed, wasted, or hidden behind secrecy. That is why accountability cannot depend on political popularity. The issue was never merely Sara Duterte alone. The deeper issue is whether public officials still accept that power requires scrutiny, transparency, and responsibility. Once accountability becomes selective, democracy slowly stops feeling trustworthy—and begins feeling hollow from within.

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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.

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Cartoon generated by AI at the author’s prompt.

Fr. Roy Cimagala

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