Whether Sen. Robin Padilla stands as a credible messenger in questioning the Presidential Communications Office’s predisposition to releasing poorly vetted statements like the Lucas Bersamin resignation-that-never-was is beside the point.

So too is the fact that Padilla has been carrying the Duterte banner for the man now languishing in an International Criminal Court jail cell. To loyalists, he is a knight defending his liege; to detractors, a ronin serving a cause past its prime.

What is not disputed is that while Fidel V. Ramos set Padilla free through a conditional pardon, it was Rodrigo Duterte who granted him an absolute pardon that restored his full civil and political rights — without which Padilla would not be sitting in the Senate.

Padilla’s Senate Resolution 188 would have been easy to dismiss with that context if not for the “circulating concerns” he cited that the PCO has been releasing “unverified, inconsistent, potentially propagandizing, and misleading information.” 

Central to Padilla’s allegation is that the PCO is not just sloppy, but that its messaging — no thanks to spokesperson Claire Castro — is gratingly partisan and propagandistic.

Aside from the Bersamin booboo that Castro tried to dismiss in Filipino with the equivalent of “let’s just let it pass” — which a Malacañang reporter challenged — there is her accusation that Vice President Sara Duterte’s remark that she is ready to be president was pure “destabilization.”

Maybe Sara had it coming, considering no one runs for vice president without being ready to step into the presidency. But because she mouthed what should have remained unstated — and at a time when the Palace has no vacancy — her “readiness,” indeed, can be read as fomenting regime change.

The problem with the PCO under Dave Gomez, and before him, Jay Ruiz, is that many office statements are tone deaf and demand a fact-check. This from an agency manned by veteran communicators, editors, and journalists from the Presidential News Desk, the Philippine News Agency, and the Philippine Information Agency. So what gives?

People pine for the time when the presidential spokesperson’s job was not confused with punditry. The task remains simple: clarify government decisions, explain procedures, and provide updates without personal interpretation. Reporters asked questions; the spokesperson answered them. Today, the line between government communication and political commentary has blurred.

Edwin Lacierda is worth mentioning, not as a paragon, but as a reference. As spokesperson during the Aquino administration, he was not shy about defending his principal. He had moments of irritation and snark. Yet his briefings were structured. He came armed with documents and timelines, and he was careful to distinguish what was known, what was still being checked, and what required follow-up. He could argue, but he did not speculate. The spokesperson was neither the story nor the storyteller.

Ernesto Abella, Duterte’s early spokesperson, maintained the same restraint. A former pastor and educator, his briefings were plain and deliberate. Even when Digong cursed like hell, Abella did not add his own commentary. He avoided personalizing disagreements. Whether one agreed with the administration or not, one could still see the difference between explanation and opinion.

Castro did not invent the current approach. She inherited an office already leaning toward vlogger-style communication. Harry Roque openly defended controversial remarks with his own interpretations, frequently inserting himself into debates. The spokesperson was no longer describing the administration’s position; the spokesperson was shaping it. That distinction matters. A government office cannot operate like a channel chasing engagement. Its words have consequences for markets, diplomacy, and governance.

Other countries offer useful comparisons. Jen Psaki, under US President Joe Biden, handled hostile questions by presenting what was known, declining what was not, and avoiding speculation. Steffen Seibert did much the same for Angela Merkel. Their credibility came from consistency — not sound bites.

Malacañang does not need a spokesperson who is invisible or robotic. It needs one who understands that public communication is not an extension of political combat. Castro can still reset the standard — adopt verification procedures, revisit the briefing format, and speak less as an analyst defending an embattled client, and more as an institutional voice.

Malacañang, after all, is no place for a bully pulpit or a pontificator.