THEY STABBED JUSTICE IN THE BACK!
In the stillness of night, behind curtains of privilege and velvet impunity, eighteen senators have laid their daggers not only into the Constitution—but into the throat of the Republic itself.
They were summoned by duty. They responded with betrayal. They were called to trial. They chose surrender.
They have abdicated their role as judges, and embraced the robes of accomplices. They did not follow the Constitution—they abandoned it. They did not seek truth—they extinguished it. What was demanded was judgment. What they offered was complicity.
The Constitution said: FORTHWITH. Not RETURN. Not DEFLECT. Not DELAY. And yet they’ve said: “Let the House reconsider.” “Let the next Congress decide.” “Let the courts handle it.” They pass the burden like cowards pass blame. In doing so, they have not only betrayed the people—they have dishonored the very meaning of law.
They hide behind procedure like tyrants hide behind banners.
And let this note speak clearly: this is no procedural motion. This is a political consolidation. It is the Senate surrendering itself to the Duterte faction. It is the Senate preferring silence over scandal, subservience over struggle, treachery over truth.
“Audacity, more audacity, always audacity!” cried Georges Danton before the National Convention in 1792, when the French Republic itself was in peril.[¹] That is what justice demands in times of crisis—not this Senate’s pale cowardice. Danton was calling the people to rise against kings. We call now the people to rise against traitors in suits.
And when Robespierre declared, “The secret of freedom lies in educating people, whereas the secret of tyranny is in keeping them ignorant,”[²] he foresaw what is now being done to us: the suffocation of political memory, the erosion of constitutional obligation, the silencing of the Republic’s conscience.
What the Senate has done is not a failure of deliberation. It is a betrayal of people's trust. And through this process is what the Constitution was meant to preserve: a peaceful, principled mechanism for removing those who abuse power. The vice president is accused of high crimes. Instead of proceeding to trial, the Senate slammed shut the doors of judgment and told the people to wait—to forget—to move on.
The people will not forget.
Tonight’s vote proves that the powerful do not fear guilt—they fear exposure. They do not fear the law—they fear the people watching them uphold it.
Let it ring from every rooftop and every street: this is not procedure. This is a putsch in slow motion. This is a crisis in legislative disguise.
They did not vote. They stabbed.
And the wound will not close—not until the people rise, not until the voice of justice drowns the whispers of cowardice, not until those who worship power are exiled from the temple of democracy. Let justice roar—not whisper. Let the people rise—not wait. Let the traitors tremble—for the Republic remembers.
REFERENCES:
[¹] Georges Danton, speech to the National Convention, September 2, 1792: “De l’audace, encore de l’audace, toujours de l’audace, et la Patrie est sauvée.” (“Audacity, more audacity, always audacity, and the Fatherland is saved.”)
[²] Maximilien Robespierre, speech to the Convention, 1793. The quote is often paraphrased as: “The secret of freedom lies in educating people, whereas the secret of tyranny is in keeping them ignorant.” (See: Robespierre: Political Writings, Cambridge Texts in the History of Political Thought, 2007.)