Second of a four-part series LAST week, we left the Deegong in The Hague, before an institution he could neither appoint nor intimidate. This week, we turn to Vice President Sara Duterte before the Senate, where her impeachment trial has taken a sharp turn. The International Criminal Court (ICC) judges crimes under international law. The Senate judges fitness for office. Its verdict combines constitutional duty, evidence, politics and senatorial arithmetic, depending, as always, on who has the numbers. Now the prosecution has narrowed down its case to one article. Three others have been withdrawn. The crescendo has acquired a procedural complication. 3 charges leave the stage On Oct. 13, the impeachment court approved the withdrawal of charges involving confidential funds, bribery and threats against President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., first lady Liza Araneta-Marcos and former House speaker Martin Romualdez. Article 2 remains: alleged unexplained wealth, inaccurate asset declarations and prohibited business interests. Mary Grace Piattos and the other suspicious payees may now escape identification. The grocery has closed; taxpayers still hold the bill. Prosecutors say focusing on their strongest charge saves time. One proven article can secure conviction. But why parade accusations for weeks, then withdraw them before judgment? Was this prosecution or an audition for television? Withdrawal proves neither innocence nor guilt. The charges leave; the reputational damage stays. Senators must decide the remaining article on evidence. Repetition cannot turn allegations into proof. Otherwise, television reruns would count as corroborating witnesses. The mistrial question Sara’s lawyers argue that withdrawn accusations damaged her publicly while denying her a proper chance to answer them in court. They warn of a mistrial. That is an argument, not a ruling. Counsel cannot invalidate proceedings simply by saying the magic word. Still, fairness deserves more than an irritated wave from the prosecution. The court must clarify which evidence remains relevant and let both sides challenge it. Accusations cannot receive unlimited airtime while scrutiny gets canceled for lack of scheduling convenience. The defense, however, must identify an actual procedural defect. Disliking the prosecution is insufficient. Otherwise, Philippine courts could close before lunch. Prosecutors must formally offer their evidence by Oct. 23. The defense starts presenting its case on Nov. 9, following a preparation period of 26 days. A verdict is being discussed for late November or early December. Speed is welcome. Justice is not a catering service obliged to deliver before the Christmas party. Sara says she will not resign. Her lawyers now have the floor. Let them answer the evidence; let senators judge it with reasons, not applause. The P818-million question Drawing on banking, tax and corporate records, forensic analyst Alexander Cabrera’s calculation includes questioned balances, properties and business income — more than eight times Sara’s declared net worth of P98.66 million in 2025. The numbers are impressive. They remain allegations, not a verdict. Undeclared assets, unreported income and unexplained wealth are not interchangeable. Senators must establish what the figures represent, who owned the money, what required disclosure and whether any proven violation warrants removal. Money passing through an account does not automatically become personal wealth. Otherwise, every bank teller would qualify for the Forbes list. Transfers must not be counted twice. Company revenues are not automatically shareholders’ income. Legitimate earnings and liabilities must enter the calculation. These are questions of evidence, not excuses for Sara. Prosecutors must prove their case. The defense must be allowed to challenge calculations and present records explaining discrepancies. Neither a large total nor an indignant denial can settle questions that require documents, careful accounting and a fair hearing. But Sara owes the public more than cries of persecution. Where did the money come from? What belonged to her? What should her asset declarations have disclosed? When arithmetic becomes uncomfortable, attacking the calculator is rarely a complete answer. Confidential does not mean sacred The confidential-funds article has left this trial. The public question survives: How do we verify secret spending without compromising legitimate operations? Confidential funds are necessarily secret. That does not make them sacred. Secrecy must protect operations, not officials from accountability. Nor can confidentiality mean, “Trust me, the money disappeared patriotically.” Lawful audits and independent scrutiny remain essential. But senators cannot substitute outrage about confidential funds for proof of the surviving wealth charge. Accountability requires both honest spending and honest procedure. Acquittal remains possible The court’s September ruling reduced the present conviction threshold from 16 votes to 14 by counting only senators able to participate. That ruling itself shows how consequential procedural decisions have become. Senators must judge the evidence, not family alliances, survey ratings, Palace preferences or calculations about which presidential candidate may later remember their vote. Sara may survive because the prosecution fails to establish its case, because her explanations withstand scrutiny, or because the necessary votes never materialize. Procedural challenges may also affect the outcome. Those possibilities mean different things. Politically, expect them to be marketed under one convenient label: complete vindication. Equally, conviction must rest on a properly established ground for removal. Popular dislike of a surname is not evidence. Neither is popularity a certificate of innocence. The persecuted heiress Sara possesses advantages no spreadsheet can measure: a national electoral mandate, a powerful Mindanao base and the emotional loyalty attached to her detained father. Every misstep by her accusers strengthens her claim that impeachment is designed to eliminate a presidential rival. That argument carries weight because this prosecution did not descend from constitutional heaven. It emerged from the ruins of UniTeam: two dynasties that embraced, divided the spoils and then discovered that only one family could inherit Malacañang. Survival could make Sara stronger — the woman who endured the Marcoses, Congress and the combined talents of her enemies. Philippine politics adores a victim, particularly one with machinery and excellent survey ratings. But surviving impeachment would not answer the larger question: What does Sara offer beyond grievance, inheritance and revenge? Voters should demand a program: competent government, stronger institutions, economic opportunity and a foreign policy serving Philippine interests. A famous surname supplies instant recognition. It supplies neither a governing philosophy nor proof of competence. The country needs more than another family asking us to settle its quarrels at the ballot box. The system on trial This is why Sara’s impeachment belongs within our larger discussion of institutions. Our presidential system turns succession into dynastic warfare and accountability into a national convulsion. Removal requires House impeachment and a Senate supermajority. Every confrontation becomes an all-or-nothing melodrama involving rival families and their political survival. It is a zero-sum game. In a parliamentary system, a head of government who loses parliamentary confidence can be replaced without an impeachment trial. That political remedy does not replace investigation or punishment for wrongdoing. But parliamentarism alone will not save us. Without genuine political parties, anti-dynasty safeguards and transparent campaign finance, we will merely change the plumbing while keeping the sewage. Sara deserves a fair hearing. Filipinos deserve honest answers. Senators owe allegiance to the Constitution. A mistrial warning must be examined. It must not become an escape hatch merely because accountability has grown uncomfortable. Sara is impeached — but not yet defeated. And in the Philippines, surviving accountability is often mistaken for qualification to become president. To be continued on Oct. 28, 2026

First of a four-part series

TODAY the Deegong sits in detention at The Hague, confronting an institution he neither appoints, finances nor frightens. The ICC has confirmed the charges arising from killings allegedly committed during his drug wars. It has now ruled him mentally and physically fit to stand trial starting Nov. 30.

For the first time, Duterte faces a court where profanity is not policy, popularity is not evidence and threats settle nothing. At 81, time is scarce. Tatay Deegong may never come home!

The man and the myth

Duterte understood the Filipino mood. People were weary of crime, corruption, drugs, and leaders who spoke magnificently while achieving remarkably little. He promised decisive action. Where others commissioned studies, he promised bodies. Government looked helpless, justice moved slowly and criminals seemed shielded by lawyers and connections. His impatient remedy was simple: Eliminate the problem, debate legality later. He was a leader who burst into the scene possessing no moral scruples.

He styled himself as a probinsyano outsider, unsullied by Manila manners. His curses, threats and killing jokes separated him from polished politicians who had disappointed the country. Even his misogyny somehow sailed past many feminists.

The performance worked, especially among his Davao constituents. Biliba gyud oi!

Filipinos elected more than a president. They chose an avenging Tatay and granted him extraordinary freedom to punish anyone he declared an enemy. The trouble with national fathers is that citizens become obedient children, mistaking submission for loyalty.

The imperial president

Years ago, during an interview he granted me in Malacañang, I described Duterte as an imperial president — not because the Constitution crowned him emperor, but because our institutions behaved as though it had.

Duterte did not invent the imperial presidency. Our unitary-presidential system built it — concentrating power in one man while expecting dependent institutions to restrain him. Thus, our celebrated checks and balances: everyone checks where power lies. Duterte simply mastered the machinery. (I gave him copies of my Harvard professor Graham Allison’s Destined for War and Schlessinger’s The Imperial Presidency.)

Congress surrendered its independence. Parties became employment agencies, Cabinet officials paid obeisance. Presidential threats encouraged violent shortcuts. Human rights were mocked and critics intimidated.

The war that refused to end

He promised to eliminate drugs within months. Subsequently, he admitted the problem exceeded his campaign bravado. By then, thousands were dead.

Official and human-rights estimates differed enormously. But behind every number was a person killed and a family asking whether the victim had been investigated and convicted — or merely identified, pursued and silenced.

Duterte’s defenders insist the campaign protected citizens from criminals and that police confronted armed suspects in self-defense. They accuse the ICC of violating Philippine sovereignty. Those arguments must be heard. Due process belongs equally to victims and Duterte.

Duterte must be presumed innocent until proven guilty beyond reasonable doubt. The ICC must prove not only that killings occurred, but that he was personally responsible. This high standard protects justice from becoming another drug war — label the accused evil, then ignore due process.

Another trial, another shadow

While Tatay Deegong prepares at The Hague, daughter Sara’s impeachment trial has pulled him into another controversy. Evidence presented to the Senate impeachment court identified joint accounts belonging to Sara and Rodrigo Duterte. Anti-Money Laundering Council (AMLC) records described roughly P193 million in transactions in one day; one particular joint account recorded two transactions totaling P18.9 million.

These figures are being tested in Sara’s trial. They do not prove that either Duterte stole or laundered money. A joint account is not a conviction. Money can travel through a bank without acquiring handcuffs.

But the evidence raises questions that indignation cannot answer. Where did the money come from? Why was it moved? Was it declared? Did it correspond with legitimate income and assets?

Sara must be allowed to challenge the records; Rodrigo deserves the same presumption of innocence. But the man who demanded dismissals upon a mere “whiff of corruption” can hardly complain when the public smells a stronger aroma.

The cases are legally separate. Politically, however, they raise the same question: how Duterte gained power, used it and avoided scrutiny while in office.

We will return to the financial evidence later in our series. For now, the Hague is no longer the only courtroom casting a shadow over the Deegong.

The newer evidence matters because Duterte presented himself as the incorruptible scourge of thieves. He publicly humiliated officials, dismissed some upon suspicion and repeatedly promised that even a “whiff of corruption” was enough. Yet Pharmally, the POGOs, Michael Yang and other controversies already weakened that immaculate image. The joint accounts now raise a more personal question. Did the president who claimed to smell corruption everywhere somehow lose his celebrated sense of smell when the financial trail approached his own family? Again, questions are not proof — but neither are they persecution.

Justice or political revenge

Duterte’s supporters see persecution and revenge by enemies unable to defeat his popularity. They are not entirely irrational. The Marcos-Duterte alliance collapsed into dynastic warfare. Former friends became prosecutors. The government that once resisted ICC cooperation delivered Duterte to The Hague.

Politics is present. It is practically dancing on the courtroom steps. But political motive does not automatically erase legal responsibility. A thief exposed by another thief does not become innocent because his accuser also requires investigation.

Marcos obviously benefited from the Deegong’s removal. The question is whether admissible evidence proves the charges. Every president must face the same standard. Otherwise, accountability becomes the weapon of whichever dynasty controls Malacañang.

The limits of popularity

Tatay remains loved by millions. Supporters remember infrastructure, decisive leadership and contempt for Manila elites. To many Mindanaoans, his prosecution feels like another distant judgment against a leader who gave the South national importance. That sentiment cannot simply be mocked.

But popularity is not acquittal. Elections choose who governs; they legalize nothing afterward. If 60 percent approve a killing, the victim does not become 40 percent less dead. Democracy without the rule of law is merely majority appetite armed with the power of the State.

The real defendant

Duterte is accused, but our political system is also on trial. It produced a president powerful enough to terrify domestic institutions, leaving accountability to a foreign court. His daughter’s impeachment is revealing financial questions during his presidency. We should neither defend Duterte completely nor condemn him before the evidence is heard.

Let prosecutors prove their case, Duterte contest it, and judges decide without orders from Manila, Washington, Beijing, or Davao.

The verdict will determine Duterte’s legal responsibility. It will not repair the institutions that failed before The Hague intervened. That work remains ours.

The strongman has finally met an institution he cannot command. The question is whether the Philippines will learn to build institutions just as strong before we elect another one.

Next week, we return to our geopolitical series, “When the referee retreats — the vacuum never remains empty,” examining the repercussions for smaller nations like ours. Then, back to the Dutertes: the father confronting international justice; the daughter facing impeachment and preparing for the presidency.

To be continued

Second of four parts

FILIPINOS rarely worry about sea lanes. Fuel obligingly arrives. Food magically fills supermarkets. Ships unload and vanish like campaign promises — until suddenly they do not.

Then something happening thousands of kilometers away becomes painfully local.

Trouble near the Persian Gulf raises diesel prices in Davao. A ship avoiding the Red Sea adds costs to goods bought by Filipino families. Geography mercifully keeps the fighting distant. Gasoline stations patriotically deliver the bill to us.

The oceans connect our livelihoods to events beyond our control. For an archipelago, maritime security is economic security. Our leaders usually discover this only after somebody raises the pump price.

America still matters, but cannot do everything

After 1945, US naval power, supported by allies, helped sustain the maritime order within which global commerce expanded. Japan imported energy. China became the world’s factory. Developing countries entered international supply chains.

The arrangement was never universal or trouble-free. Nevertheless, its beneficiaries became accustomed to somebody else carrying much of the security burden.

America remains the strongest naval power. The lesson of Hormuz is not that its navy has become useless. It is that military superiority cannot automatically make commercial passage safe, predictable, and affordable. A navy can destroy an installation. It cannot order Lloyd’s of London to feel reassured.

Then came Hormuz

Before the war, Hormuz carried roughly one-fifth of global crude oil and LNG supplies. And passage was open. Until Trump and Netanyahu’s intrusion exposed how a narrow passage could unsettle the world’s economy.

By late September, however, Middle Eastern oil exports were recovering, helped by alternative routes and restored pipeline operations. Some Qatar-linked LNG vessels were again visibly passing through Hormuz.

Recovery is welcome. Lasting security, unfortunately, missed the ceremony. Iran need not sink the US fleet to invoice everybody. Missiles, drones, mines and threats frighten shipowners, inflate premiums, and make shipping schedules decorative. The attacker just needs to threaten enough voyages. The defender must reassure everybody with cargo. Commerce gets creative. Consumers sponsor the adventure.

From Hormuz to our own waters

The same vulnerability extends through Bab el-Mandeb, Suez and Malacca to the South China Sea. These waterways connect energy producers, factories and markets. Trouble at one can strain the others.

But we must distinguish two problems: protecting international commercial navigation and defending Philippine maritime rights. Merchant ships can continue crossing the South China Sea while Filipino fishermen and supply vessels face obstruction.

An open shipping lane does not necessarily mean an open fishing ground for Filipinos. On Sept. 25, the Philippine Coast Guard reported that dangerous Chinese maneuvers had prevented completion of a resupply mission to Ayungin Shoal. No collision or injury was reported. The incident nevertheless illustrates coercion operating below the threshold of outright war.

Beijing need not close the entire sea to make our lawful activities difficult. It can leave international commerce moving while squeezing its smaller neighbor. Apparently, freedom of navigation can come with different subscription plans.

An ally not a substitute for good governance

Our American alliance remains essential. Intelligence, training, equipment and cooperation under EDCA strengthen our defenses. But an ally cannot replace a Philippine government that works.

Defense guidelines say armed attacks on either country’s troops, aircraft, or government ships, including coast guard vessels in the South China Sea, trigger mutual defense commitments. But China will harass the Philippines but stop short of an armed confrontation.

We cannot expect America to intervene whenever our fishermen run into trouble. Manila and Washington need coordinated plans for contingencies. The alliance should strengthen our defenses, preserve Filipino leadership, and protect our local communities. Agreements must define responsibilities and ensure readiness for emergencies. An alliance works best when both sides contribute something besides one side bringing the table.

China: Engage without surrendering

China is a neighbor, trading partner and major power. Geography will not remove it because we deliver an indignant speech. We should maintain diplomatic channels, negotiate practical arrangements that reduce danger, and pursue trade where it benefits Filipinos.

Communication can prevent an accident from becoming a crisis. But negotiation must rest on international law, including Unclos and the 2016 arbitral award. That award rejected China’s claimed historic rights to resources beyond the convention’s limits. It did not decide sovereignty over land territory.

We must defend our resource rights without pretending our exclusive economic zone excludes lawful navigation by others. Nor should commercial cooperation purchase Philippine silence. Friendship is welcome. A friendship requiring the smaller friend to stop fishing deserves another name.

What we should do

First, know who is doing what in our waters. Connect radar, satellite data, patrol aircraft, and reports from fishermen. Require agencies to share information immediately. End bureaucratic turf wars. We cannot defend waters we cannot monitor.

Second, keep our ships operating. Provide trained crews, fuel, maintenance, communications, and repair facilities. Keep the Philippine Coast Guard on patrol and strengthen the Navy to deter aggression. Defend fishermen, secure lawful resupply missions, and record acts of interference. Ships must serve the country long after officials finish cutting ribbons.

Third, prepare for disruption. Maintain emergency fuel reserves with clear release rules. Diversify suppliers and shipping routes. Improve storage, ports, and transport between islands. Ensure essential goods reach communities when major ports or routes close.

Buying from different suppliers helps little if all shipments pass through the same chokepoints. Find other routes, produce more energy at home, reducing waste. Prepare before shortages hit. Subsidies can lower costs, but they cannot replace missing supplies.

Fourth, protect Filipino seafarers. Assess voyage risks, require insurance and evacuation plans, and uphold their legal right to refuse dangerous work. Protect their lives before tragedy strikes, instead of offering condolences afterward.

Fifth, deepen cooperation with Japan, Australia, South Korea, India and Asean neighbors. Share intelligence, coordinate patrols and prepare joint responses to emergencies. Deliver stronger patrols, faster assistance and safer waters. Ministerial photographs will not defend us.

Finally, Congress must connect strategy to budgets and public accountability. Publish targets, track operational readiness, and scrutinize procurement. A national maritime policy cannot survive on presidential adjectives.

These responsibilities must also reach provincial governments, port operators and businesses, whose practical preparations determine whether national plans work outside Manila.

The test is whether fishermen can work, supplies can arrive and essential services can continue during disruption. That requires steady funding across administrations, exercises involving civilian agencies and honest reporting when plans fail. Preparedness is less photogenic than a summit, but considerably more useful when the tanker is late.

Who guards our interests?

No country can secure every sea lane. America remains central, but allies must share responsibility. The Philippines must strengthen its defenses and economy, uphold maritime rights, keep diplomacy open and build partnerships. Neither theatrical hostility toward China nor devotional dependence on America amounts to a Philippine strategy.

Washington protects American interests. Beijing protects Chinese interests. Manila might consider protecting Philippine interests. For an archipelago, that would be a promising maritime innovation.

Next week, we turn from a world without a reliable referee to a former president before an international court. The question remains: What happens when power encounters an institution it cannot command?

To be continued