There is a particular cruelty reserved for those who dare to challenge the architecture of power from within its walls. When the fight is against City Hall, and you yourself come from City Hall’s lineage, the blows land harder, the scrutiny sharper, the rules suddenly rediscovered and weaponized. What is unfolding around two young lawmakers today reveals not merely personal battles, but a system reverting to its oldest reflexes.

As for Congressman Leandro Leviste, a young 32-year-old who rose on the language of reform and modernity, his public image is intertwined with innovation and clean energy. Long before public office, his name was anchored in the energy sector, where his company secured a congressional franchise with the help of political networks that, in this country, are neither incidental nor rare. No one seriously argues that franchises are granted in a vacuum. Connections matter, yet what was once accepted as the mechanics of doing business is now being reframed as impropriety. The same franchise once hailed as progress is now questioned as privilege. Yesterday’s norms become today’s accusations when alignment fades.

Adding another layer to this moment is Leviste’s filing of a case against Palace Spokesperson Claire Castro. Supporters describe it as a legitimate recourse; critics see it as a legal move perceived to chill speech rather than resolve substance. Coincidentally, the case is being handled by Atty. Ferdie Topacio, who also serves as counsel to Congressman Arnie Teves. In a political climate already suspicious of silence and survival, such intersections do not pass unnoticed.

On the other hand, 27-year-old Congressman Kiko Barzaga’s situation is even more asymmetrical. When an ultra-billionaire like Enrique Razon publicly goes after a sitting lawmaker, the imbalance is immediate, triggering a looming expulsion from a political party and later, Congress. Razon did not merely file a case; he openly questioned Barzaga’s standing, asking where Barzaga’s money came from when his family, by Razon’s framing, had long been rooted in politics rather than private enterprise. In a country where perception often outruns proof, such statements do more than allege misconduct. They erode legitimacy itself.

What unsettles is not the call for accountability. It is the selectivity. We admire brave voices when they challenge entrenched interests, until the challenge becomes inconvenient. Then investigations multiply, cases surface and the full machinery of the state whirs to life. The message is unmistakable: Dissent has a cost.

Perhaps, then, the safest strategy is silence. Or worse, eternal silence. Some still point to the case of DPWH Undersecretary Catalina Cabral, whose death effectively ended public discourse on the controversy she was linked to. No accusation need be made for the chilling effect to be felt. To many observers, it was as if the issue itself had been subdued — like a tranquilizer dart striking the neck of a raging animal, not to cure it, but to make it stop moving.

We have seen the alternative path as well. Politicians can evade consequences so long as they remain quiet, cooperative and useful. The lingering saga of Congressman Arnie Teves stands as a reminder that in our system, survival often depends less on innocence than on alignment.

So we must ask, urgently and without pretense: Where is the country headed when courage is punished, scrutiny is selective and silence is rewarded? A democracy that disciplines dissent and shelters compliance slowly forgets its purpose. Society may look up to brave souls at first, but history suggests admiration rarely protects them. The state always finds a way to crack down.