When I applied for the Office of the Ombudsman, friends questioned my decision. They doubted my viability as a candidate, citing my previous association with the Duterte administration and my tenure as PDP Laban Secretary General.

Yet, I believe in the selection and appointment process, and I submit to its wisdom. More importantly, the current dysfunction within the Office of the Ombudsman presents precisely the opportunity I seek —to demonstrate that the effective protection of the people requires an Ombudsman tough enough to strike fear in the corrupt while creating an informed citizenry.

The performance of the current Ombudsman is instructive. As a judicial retiree, Ombudsman Martires approached the role with evident reluctance to engage in the necessary confrontations. This hesitancy fundamentally misunderstands the position’s mandate. The role of protector inherently requires adversarial engagement — this is not optional but is essential to the office’s purpose.

Seven years of his tenure tell the story plainly: the Philippines has declined precipitously in the Corruption Perceptions Index, falling behind our ASEAN counterparts despite billions in annual funding. The office has produced negligible incremental progress, a damning indictment of a leadership that confuses passivity with prudence.

The numbers don’t lie. When Justice Samuel Martires assumed office in August 2018, the Philippines ranked 99th globally in the Corruption Perceptions Index, scoring 36 out of 100. By 2021, mid-term through his tenure, our ranking had crashed to 117th, with the score dropping to 33. This decline occurred despite a 23-percent budget increase for the office from P2.97 billion in 2018 to P3.66 billion in 2021.

It is simply mind-boggling how the pattern of failure persisted even as the budget swelled. The Ombudsman’s resources grew steadily — P3.06 billion (2019), P3.34 billion (2020), P4.02 billion (2022), P4.67 billion (2023), P5.34 billion (2024), and an estimated P5.5–P6 billion (2025).

Yet our CPI ranking remained mired in mediocrity: 113th (2019, score 34), 115th (2020, score 34), 116th (2022, score 33), 115th (2023, score 34) and 114th (2024, score 33).

In the Asia-Pacific region, where the average CPI score hovers between 44-45, the Philippines trails embarrassingly behind leaders like New Zealand (1st, score 88 in 2024) and Singapore (5th, score 83). We even lag behind regional peers like Thailand (90th, score 36) and Indonesia (110th, score 34).

This stagnation reflects a broader institutional decline. Transparency International labeled the Philippines a “significant decliner,” our score dropping from 38 in 2014 to 33 in 2024. Despite an 80-percent budget increase from 2018 to 2024, the Ombudsman has failed to curb perceived corruption, leaving the Philippines stuck below the global average score of 43.

Clearly, Ombudsman Martires’ math simply isn’t matching up.

The reason for this failure is unmistakable: no one fears this Ombudsman as the protector of the people. His ineffectiveness stems from occupying a position he should have declined upon his retirement from the Supreme Court. Authority without the will to exercise it renders protection meaningless.

High-profile cases exemplify this dysfunction. Department of Education officials’ cases languished for years before action was taken, albeit mere days before the end of Martires’ term. This delayed response and institutional inaction has fueled public distrust, pushing citizens to rely on figures like the Tulfo brothers — now — who are perceived as the only ones willing to act swiftly on complaints against abusive government officials.

The public’s reliance on media personalities over an institution meant to champion their cause represents a damning indictment of the Ombudsman’s failure. When citizens trust media personalities more than their constitutional protector, the institution has fundamentally failed its mandate.

During Martires’ tenure, the Philippine National Police became rotten to the core, with officers acting more like mercenaries for hire than law enforcers. Extrajudicial killings, ninja cops, missing sabungeros and other scandals highlighting police corruption and abuse flourished, unchecked by a seemingly passive and fearful Ombudsman.

Martires insists the office must be shielded from politics, and I agree — independence is crucial.

However, shielding it from politics doesn’t mean retreating from its duty. As the people’s protector, the Ombudsman must strike fear in corrupt officials’ hearts with swift, relentless and decisive action, not bureaucratic inertia.

The distinction is fundamental: political independence enables effective action; it doesn’t excuse institutional timidity. The office must embrace the uncomfortable truth that protection sometimes demands confrontation.

A truly independent Ombudsman fears no one except the people he serves — and he serves no one except the people who fear for their rights.