Justice Deferred: How the System Shelters Power in the Name of Process
The impeachment storm surrounding Vice President Sara Duterte is fast becoming a mirror reflecting the deeper fractures in the Philippine democratic system. What began as a serious constitutional process to investigate alleged misuse of public funds and abuse of power has now unraveled into a showcase of technical evasion, legal maneuvering, and institutional stalling — all in the name of due process.
Last week, the Supreme Court of the Philippines unanimously blocked the latest impeachment complaint against Duterte. The court ruled that the filing violated the so-called “one-year rule” under the 1987 Constitution, which prevents the filing of more than one impeachment complaint against the same official within a 12-month period.
But legal observers noted that the court did not clear Duterte of any wrongdoing. It did not even weigh in on the substance of the explosive accusations: the alleged misuse of ₱612 million in confidential funds, bribery of education officials, failure to declare assets, and even public disclosure of a supposed assassination plot involving the President and key national figures. These are not minor lapses. They are allegations that strike at the heart of public trust and institutional integrity.
Instead, the High Tribunal took the safer route, dismissing the case on procedural grounds and reminding the nation that the “end does not justify the means.” In a carefully worded statement, the Court emphasized that even impeachment must follow the rules, quoting:
“There is a right way to do the right things at the right time. This is what the rule of just law means. This is what fairness or due process of law means, even for impeachment.”
While technically sound, critics say this ruling reinforces a pattern: one where powerful officials are shielded not by innocence, but by intricate defenses woven from legal timing and procedural strictness.
Senate Paralysis and the Dance of Delay
The Senate, too, has drawn scrutiny for its handling of the impeachment process. After receiving Duterte’s 35-page reply ad cautelam — a legal term meaning “with caution” — the chamber pledged to uphold “due process.” Yet, it delayed proceedings until after recess, only to remand the complaint back to the House once sessions resumed. The result? More time lost. More questions raised.
Senate President Chiz Escudero, who now sits as the presiding officer of the impeachment court, has said little to reassure a public increasingly skeptical of the institution’s willingness to move forward. The Senate’s actions suggest a preference for inertia over investigation.
The House of Representatives, for its part, has also faced criticism. Observers have noted unexplained delays in relaying original complaints to the Speaker — a crucial step for triggering committee hearings. Whether by design or dysfunction, such omissions further weaken the case for an effective, impartial process.
Citizens Are Watching — And Demanding More
Yet outside the chambers of power, public opinion has made one thing clear: Filipinos want answers.
A nationwide Social Weather Stations (SWS) survey conducted from June 25–29 revealed that 66% of Filipinos believe Vice President Duterte should face the charges to address all corruption allegations against her. Support was highest in Metro Manila at 76%, followed by 69% in Balance Luzon, and 67% in the Visayas. Even in Mindanao — Duterte’s home region — 55% of respondents agreed she must confront the case.
The support cuts across class lines, too: 73% among the upper and middle classes, 66% of the working class, and 62% of the poorest sectors believe Duterte should be held accountable.
According to Stratbase Group President Dindo Manhit, the survey results reflect “a more engaged and vigilant public.”
“Filipinos are not just passive observers,” he noted. “They are actively following developments, asking questions, and expecting accountability.”
Manhit warned that any perception of delay or manipulation by the Senate or courts could undermine faith in democratic institutions.
Justice as a Moving Target
While the legal team representing Duterte argues that the complaint is “void from the beginning” due to constitutional timing, labor leader and activist lawyer Luke Espiritu offered a stark counterpoint:
“The Supreme Court has proven that this government is incapable of prosecuting plunderers or mass murderers… Once again, technicalities are being used to shield those in power.”
Espiritu’s remarks echo a broader concern: that in the Philippines, the justice system too often bends away from scrutiny and toward self-preservation.
Time and again, impeachment — a constitutional remedy designed to protect the public from abusive officials — has been reduced to a legal minefield, where the goal is not to uncover truth, but to outmaneuver accountability.
Former Senator and Mamayang Liberal Representative Leila de Lima questioned the legitimacy of the Supreme Court’s ruling, calling it procedurally flawed.
“The House of Representatives was not given the opportunity to file a formal comment as required by Rule 65, Section 6 of the Rules of Court,” De Lima noted. “Instead of directing the House to file a comment, the Court issued a written interrogatory — a rare, if not irregular, move. Somehow, the Supreme Court treated the House’s compliance with this interrogatory as if it were a formal responsive pleading.”
“But let’s be clear,” she added. “It was not.”
Akbayan Representative Chel Diokno expressed dismay over the ruling, framing it as a defeat not just for the legal process, but for the public.
“In this decision, it’s the people who lose. Accountability loses.” Diokno said.
He underscored that the impeachment followed constitutional requirements: it was verified, endorsed by more than a third of House members, and concerned only a single case.
“There was no violation of due process — only a demand to present the truth to the Filipino people,” Diokno stressed.
And that is the heart of it. This wasn’t just a question of legality — it was a test of whether truth can still reach the highest offices, or whether the architecture of law has become a fortress designed to deflect, delay, and dismiss.
Because if courts no longer listen, if the Senate stalls, and if procedures become the padded walls that keep accountability out — then the people will start asking: Who is the law really for?
A Crisis of Courage
The Palace has thus far maintained its silence. But as the legal and political establishment stalls, the calls for transparency grow louder.
No institution has ruled on the truth of the allegations. No court has declared Duterte innocent. All that’s certain is that the system has delayed the process — not resolved it.
What this moment reveals is not just a legal battle, but a crisis of courage. A test of whether Philippine democracy can still confront wrongdoing, even at the highest levels, or whether the shields of procedure and privilege have grown too thick to penetrate.
Because in the end, justice doesn’t only die through tyranny. Sometimes, it dies wrapped in legal briefs and buried under footnotes — all done properly, all done politely, and all done just late enough.