Judiciary vs. Accountability: Justice at Risk in Supreme Court Power Play

Judiciary vs. Accountability:

Justice at Risk in Supreme Court Power Play 

In the wake of the Supreme Court’s recent ruling declaring the impeachment complaint against Vice President Sara Duterte unconstitutional, legal circles and political observers are sounding the alarm. At the heart of the firestorm is a growing unease that the country’s highest court may be crossing from interpretation into intervention — and in doing so, jeopardizing the delicate balance of power that anchors Philippine democracy. 

The Philippine Constitution Association (Philconsa), a respected legal think tank chaired by former Chief Justice Reynato Puno, released a sharply worded statement over the weekend questioning not only the ruling itself but the sweeping new procedural rules the Court imposed on Congress. According to Philconsa, the Supreme Court has effectively rewritten the Constitution, granting itself powers that could cripple the House of Representatives’ exclusive authority to initiate impeachment proceedings. 

In their view, the Court did more than interpret the law — it acted as a political player. 

“The new rules give the Court the power to determine the sufficiency of evidence and the reasonableness of time given to lawmakers,” Philconsa warned. “It tilts the balance of power in its favor.” 

Puno, widely respected in both judicial and academic circles, further cautioned that such judicial activism could become dangerous, especially if a sitting justice were to become the subject of a future impeachment case. “It runs counter to the idea that justices should serve as umpires, not as pitchers or batters,” he added. 

The Court’s July 25 ruling threw out the complaint against Duterte on the grounds that it violated the “one-year bar rule,” but legal experts quickly noted the broader implications. Alongside its decision, the SC introduced seven new conditions the House must meet before another complaint can even be considered — including provisions requiring sufficient supporting evidence and a “reasonable time” for members to decide on endorsement. 

Critics argue these new standards could give future impeached officials grounds to seek judicial intervention before a case even reaches the Senate for trial. 

Senator Francis “Kiko” Pangilinan, a former chair of the Senate Committee on Justice and Human Rights, has also stepped into the debate. On Monday, Pangilinan urged the Court to issue a status quo ante order and conduct oral arguments to allow all branches — the Senate, House, and Supreme Court — to take pause and avoid what he described as a “constitutional war of attrition.” 

“This kind of conflict will only deepen the public’s distrust in democratic institutions,” Pangilinan said, warning of the lasting damage such a standoff could inflict. He cited former Chief Justice Artemio Panganiban’s proposal to halt and review the matter through public hearings as a way to deescalate the growing institutional tension. 

Philconsa, meanwhile, is sounding the constitutional alarm. The group insists the Court’s intervention not only violates the political question doctrine — which shields legislative processes like impeachment from judicial review — but also undermines Article XI, Section 8 of the Constitution, which gives Congress the sole authority to craft its rules on impeachment. 

In imposing its own rules, Philconsa argues, the Court is erasing that distinction. 

“The judiciary is not supposed to overwhelm the other branches,” said Puno. “This is the very safeguard that prevents the judicialization of politics by unelected officials.” 

Even more contentious is the Court’s new requirement that due process be granted to the respondent at the House level — a point Philconsa refutes. According to the group, the respondent’s right to due process is fulfilled during the Senate trial, not at the initiation phase in the House. The new rules, they argue, effectively weaponize procedure to make impeachment all but impossible. 

In Puno’s words: “The rules written by the Court for the House will render nugatory its exclusive power to initiate impeachment. We beg the Court to revisit their constitutionality.” 

At the core of the debate lies a question as old as constitutional government itself: when a court invokes the rule of law, is it upholding justice — or building walls to shield power? 

To many observers, the Supreme Court’s ruling is a turning point. If it stands unchallenged, they warn, it could cement a dangerous precedent: a judiciary no longer content to referee the game, but now playing on the field, rewriting the rules as it goes. 

In a political climate already rife with distrust, the risk of one branch overriding the others is not theoretical — it is existential. 

Philconsa’s closing statement cuts to the heart of the matter: “The Court must avoid the political thicket, where there are too many unknowns and unknowables… and thus avoid the tyranny of intangibles.” 

It is a warning that echoes with clarity in this precarious moment in the nation’s history. In the effort to define who holds the power to hold others accountable, the question remains: 

Is this about justice — or just power? Whether one supports or opposes Vice President Duterte is beside the point. What matters now is the precedent being set. If one branch can interfere with the constitutional duties of another, unchecked, then the very foundation of our democracy weakens.

And if those who dare speak out — from senators to former chief justices — are casually dismissed as political actors or legal idealists, then everyone concerned have entered a dangerous territory, where accountability is not debated, but denied, if not dismissed as academic.

At a time when the country needs institutions to serve as bulwarks of truth and justice, not instruments of procedural obstruction, one must ask:

Do these calls for “rule of law” and “judicial review” seek to uphold justice — or to protect those in power from it?

Because the line between the two has never felt thinner.