Senate on trial, 1

NOT EVERYONE has to be a lawyer to recognize when something smells off. I am no legal expert, but as a teacher, a columnist, and a concerned citizen who reads and listens, I believe I can take part in this public discourse. Especially now, when one of the most crucial accountability processes in our democracy — the impeachment of a sitting Vice President—is at risk of being derailed not by lack of merit but by political choreography. At stake is not only the position of Vice President Sara Duterte but the credibility of our constitutional system, the independence of our institutions, and the moral compass of those we elect to represent us.

Impeachment is serious business. It is not a hobby for bored lawmakers, nor a weapon for political rivals. As Article XI, Section 2 of the 1987 Constitution outlines, it exists to hold our highest officials accountable for serious breaches: culpable violations of the Constitution, treason, graft, corruption, and betrayal of public trust. It is a safety valve, a last-resort measure to protect the republic when traditional checks and balances fail. But the strength of any mechanism lies not just in its design but in its use. A wrench left unused on the shelf during a system failure is not just useless — it is negligence.

Legal scholars across the board have weighed in. The faculty of the University of the Philippines College of Law, in a June 5, 2025 open letter, was unequivocal. They warned that dismissing the case without a trial, under the pretext of either procedural technicalities or the end of a congressional cycle, would set a dangerous precedent. They clarified that the Senate, when it sits as an Impeachment Court, assumes a special constitutional role that is distinct from its legislative function. This means the usual rules about the non-continuing nature of Congress do not apply. The Constitution itself mandates the Senate to “forthwith proceed” with the trial. That phrase, according to constitutionalist John Molo and other signatories, is not flexible. It is binding.

Even legal veterans like former School of Law Dean Chel Diokno, who has spent decades navigating our jurisprudence, echo the concern. Diokno has pointed out that an impeachment court is a different animal. It is not bound by the rules that govern day-to-day legislation. Senators, once sworn in as impeachment judges, are not lawmakers temporarily. They become custodians of the people’s trust. They carry the weight of deciding not merely guilt or innocence, but the institutional integrity of our democracy.

This sentiment is reinforced by no less than constitutionalist and 1987 Constitutional Commission member Atty. Christian Monsod, who, in an interview on Dobol B TV, stressed that dismissing the Duterte impeachment would violate the very Charter designed to protect democratic accountability. Monsod’s firm reminder cuts through the legal debate: the Constitution is not subject to political mood swings, and adherence to its processes is not optional.

Some argue that delaying the trial or outright dismissing it protects the Vice President’s right to a speedy disposition. But as several law professors noted in their legal opinions, impeachment is a sui generis (of its own kind; unique) proceeding. It is not a criminal case nor a quasi-judicial matter. Even if one were to assume that such a right applies, the Vice President herself sought to block the proceedings by petitioning the Supreme Court. You cannot stall a process and then claim to be victimized by the delay. (To be continued)/PN

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