There is something deeply troubling when a prosecution begins to look less like a search for truth and more like a prolonged exercise in political destruction.
Let us be clear: accountability is indispensable to democracy. No public official—regardless of position, popularity, or political affiliation—should be above the law. If there are credible allegations of wrongdoing, they must be investigated. If there is evidence, it must be presented. And if guilt is established, the law must take its course.
But justice has one fundamental requirement: it must be about the evidence, not the electoral consequences.That distinction matters enormously as the country moves closer to the 2028 national elections.
The public has every right to ask: Is the impeachment proceeding primarily intended to establish accountability, or is it also being used as a political instrument to malign, discredit, and weaken a formidable political rival before voters get their say?
That question cannot simply be dismissed as partisan rhetoric. In a democracy, the appearance of political persecution is itself dangerous, particularly when public institutions and taxpayers’ money are involved. Because every hearing has a cost. Every government lawyer, investigator, administrative process, security detail, facility, document, and working hour ultimately carries a public expense.Taxpayers are paying the bill. And therefore, taxpayers have every right to demand that the machinery of government be used for justice—not political vengeance.
There is a world of difference between prosecuting an alleged offense and prosecuting a political enemy.
The first is the work of a democracy governed by law.
The second is the behavior of a political system that has forgotten why the law exists in the first place.
Justice does not need theatricality. It does not need character assassination. It does not need endless insinuations designed to poison public opinion before a final determination is made.
Evidence should speak louder than rhetoric.
A court—or any constitutional process designed to determine accountability—should establish facts. It should not become a stage where reputations are destroyed first and evidence is expected to catch up later.
And here is the irony: the more politically charged the proceeding becomes, the more important due process becomes.
Those who genuinely believe they are pursuing accountability should welcome scrutiny. They should welcome independent examination of the evidence. They should have no fear of consistency, fairness, or equal application of the law.
Because if the case is strong, the evidence will carry it.
There is no need to manufacture public hatred.
There is no need to turn every allegation into a conviction in the court of public opinion.
There is no need to spend enormous amounts of public resources merely to create political damage.
The Filipino people are not stupid. They can distinguish between accountability and political theater. They also understand that elections are supposed to be decided by voters—not by government institutions attempting to eliminate political competitors before election day.
If the Vice President is guilty of wrongdoing, prove it. If she is innocent, clear her. But do not manipulate the machinery of justice simply because an election is approaching.
Justice must never be calibrated according to political calendars.
The greatest danger is not that a politician might lose an election.The greater danger is that ordinary citizens may begin to believe that our institutions are being used selectively—that the law becomes fierce against political enemies and strangely gentle toward political allies.
Once that perception takes root, public trust begins to collapse. And when people stop believing that justice is impartial, every prosecution becomes suspect, every investigation becomes political, and every verdict becomes another battlefield in an endless partisan war.
That is not how a healthy democracy works.
The law must be a shield for the people, not a sword wielded by political factions.
So let the evidence be examined. Let due process prevail. Let accountability be pursued relentlessly—but without political discrimination. And most importantly, let the Filipino people decide in 2028 who deserves their trust. Because ultimately, political power does not belong to prosecutors, legislators, government officials, or political operators. It belongs to the people.
If this is truly about justice, then let justice take its course. But if justice is merely being used as a convenient disguise for political demolition, history—and eventually the electorate—may render a very different verdict.
Justice seeks a verdict based on evidence. Politics seeks a victory at the ballot box. The moment the two are deliberately confused, democracy itself becomes the casualty.
