The term “Blue Ribbon” traces its roots to an old and widely recognized symbol of excellence and highest distinction. As early as the 17th century, blue ribbons were worn by members of elite orders of knighthood in France and England, where the color blue signified honor, prestige and trust. 

By the 19th century, in Britain and the United States, a blue ribbon had come to mean first prize, the best of the best. Thereafter, the phrase “blue ribbon” evolved to describe anything considered top-tier or most distinguished.

In legislative practice, a Blue Ribbon Committee is meant to embody that same ideal. It is a select body of senior and respected legislators, entrusted with grave, sensitive, and high-profile investigations. The term symbolizes credibility, authority, and public trust, not mere ceremony.

This symbolism, however, was immensely tested during the 19 January televised hearing of the Senate Blue Ribbon Committee on the “Floodgate” scandal. The invited “resource persons,” rightly or wrongly, viewed by the public as suspects and alleged perpetrators in one of the biggest corruption cases in recent memory appeared well dressed, well rehearsed, and obviously well coached.

Viewers could sense the tempered frustration, restrained anger, and thinly stretched patience of the senators, led by Senator Ping, as witnesses repeatedly invoked constitutional shields. They were aided by lawyers who seemed to act less as officers of the court but as con artists coaching their clients to utter outright falsehoods, incredible alibis, and stage performances with scripted, theatrical flair worthy of a FAMAS award.

One witness even attempted to turn the proceedings into a televised farce by appearing fully hooded, probably out of shame rather than fear, and presumably as a whistleblower. 

Thankfully, one senator persuaded him to remove it, restoring the seriousness to the hearing.

Despite the attempts to trivialize, derail, and Mickey Mouse the inquiry, the public could not miss the tenacity, professionalism, and stamina of the Blue Ribbon Committee members. They came well prepared, armed with documents and incisive questions, determined to ferret out the facts and uncover the truth. The “suspects’” efforts to reduce the inquiry into an exercise in procedural evasion and calculated futility ultimately failed to obscure the larger narrative.

For non-lawyers, it is understandably difficult to see how constitutional rights designed to protect the innocent can be conveniently used to shield deception and frustrate the search for truth. While we rightly reject the excesses of less democratic systems, it is unsettling that our own “demo-crazy” sometimes appears helpless in the face of such abuse.

The 19 January 2026 hearing unfolded with all the familiar elements Filipinos have come to recognize — solemn oaths, carefully worded answers, confident denials, and the steady hum of public expectation. The nation tuned in not merely to learn facts, but to see whether truth might finally outrun technique.

Blue Ribbon hearings are meant to be instruments of illumination and dramatic revelations, with the public record they create. Every evasion, every contradiction, every strained explanation is remembered. Over time, these fragments accumulate into clarity.

The hearing may have not delivered closure but it reaffirmed an enduring truth of democracy that accountability is not a moment, but a process. The real question is not how the committee performed that day, but whether we, as a nation, will insist that what was said under oath does not fade once the microphones are turned off.