The appointment of Justice Secretary turned Ombudsman Jesus Crispin “Boying” Remulla has been one of the most divisive moves in recent Philippine governance. His clearance, nomination, and eventual ascent to an office constitutionally designed to be insulated from politics immediately raised alarms.

The Ombudsman must be independent, yet Remulla’s long record as a partisan political figure placed him at odds with the very ethos of the institution he now leads. Many feared that the machinery for accountability — already weakened by selective prosecutions and a climate of impunity — would be further eroded.

And yet, in an unexpected turn, Remulla’s early pronouncements appear to be breathing a measure of life back into an office long accused of timidity. His rhetoric on pursuing corruption “without fear nor favor,” and his acknowledgment that no official — no matter how politically connected — should be shielded, has stirred cautious optimism. But rhetoric, while useful in signaling direction, is not yet reform. What defines an Ombudsman is never the speech; it is always the decision.

The weight of the country’s anti-corruption crusade now rests heavily on Remulla’s ability to pivot from political figure to institutional guardian. He must show, through actions rather than sound bites, that he understands the gravity of the mandate he holds. The Ombudsman’s power is unique: he can investigate, discipline, and prosecute public officials up to the highest ranks. These powers used judiciously but firmly can restore public trust. However, used selectively, they can further fracture an already cynical public.

Remulla’s greatest test will not be in going after small-time bureaucrats — the “usual suspects” used to create the illusion of reform — but in pursuing cases that involve allies, political patrons, and members of the current power structure. True independence is demonstrated not when the Ombudsman goes after not only enemies of the administration, but when he is willing to hold accountable those within its circle. Only then can he dispel suspicions that his appointment was intended to shield rather than scrutinize.

At this juncture, Remulla’s instincts as a media personality may become a liability. His visibility, cultivated over decades in public life, can create an impression of politicization if not tempered. The Ombudsman must be heard less and seen more through concrete, unambiguous actions: the filing of cases, the revival of dormant investigations, the disciplining of errant officials regardless of connections. A lower public profile will serve him well; the office demands quiet rigor, not prime-time presence.

In his hands lies an opportunity rarely given — a chance to restore confidence in a key accountability institution at a time when governance is strained by corruption controversies, eroding trust, and deepening public frustration. Should he deliver, he will not only define his tenure; he would recalibrate the standards of political integrity in the country.

But if he fails — if his commitment remains merely declarative — the damage will be profound. The nation does not need another custodian of power. It needs an Ombudsman who understands that independence is not a posture but a discipline.

This is Remulla’s moment. His tenure can be the game changer that will redirect the country back on the right track, turn around public distrust, and achieve the common desire for a better Philippines.