By now, the Senate of the Philippines has become such a circus that the people of the Philippines are becoming less like participants and more like an audience in the circus we are living in. It feels like a reality show with microphones, livestreams, walkouts, shouting matches, and political cliffhangers every other hour.

In just a few days, Filipinos witnessed a Senate session that looked less like legislation and more like damage control mixed with performance art.

Seriously, looking at them, it felt like I was just watching theater actors and actresses with their lines fully memorized and scenes practiced for days.

There were interruptions on the floor, clowns—I mean, senators—talking over one another, a senator suddenly appearing after being absent for months, and let’s not forget the Tom and Jerry act that the latter showed. Hilarious. Peak comedy. Ehem, ehem… going back, there’s the possible ICC arrest of a senator, impeachment pressure, loyalty shifts, and political survival. The tension was so intense that clips from the Senate spread across TikTok faster than the actual hearings that truly mattered.

Then came the unsettling reports of gunshots heard at the Senate complex last night, adding another layer of fear and uncertainty to an already tense political atmosphere. Whether tied directly to the politicians’ situation or not, the incident immediately amplified public anxiety. In a country already exhausted by political conflict, even the sound of gunfire near one of the nation’s highest institutions carries symbolic weight.

And maybe that says everything.

The Senate has always been political. That is expected. But what we are seeing now is something different: politics becoming drama first, governance second.

One moment, senators argue over ethics complaints. Next, officials are handing out arrest warrants, security concerns rise, and dramatic entrances unfold. Progressive groups rally outside demanding accountability, while inside the halls, allies and rivals exchange statements that sound more fit for campaign sorties than Senate deliberations.

For ordinary Filipinos watching from their phones during commute hours or lunch breaks, the question becomes simple: Who is still actually governing?

While politicians exchange intense statements and supporters flood the comment sections defending their “idols,” the country’s everyday problems remain painfully unchanged. Jeepney drivers still struggle with rising fuel prices. Students still struggle with rising expenses. Campus journalists continue fighting for funding and press freedom. Workers still wait for wages that can keep up with inflation. Parents still strive in their own ways to make ends meet.

Yet national attention keeps getting swallowed by a political circus.

The Senate should be a place where difficult conversations happen with discipline and purpose. Instead, many sessions now feel like a battle for viral moments. A single dramatic quote gains more attention than hours of discussion about fuel prices, flood control, or labor rights.

And politicians know this.

Politics rewards visibility. The louder the exchange, the hotter it gets, and the more likely it is to trend. Dramatic confrontations—or even their dumb thoughts and rants inside the Senate—gain more engagement and attention than the country’s actual national issues. In today’s political environment, virality can shape public perception faster than actual legislation.

But the danger is that citizens slowly become an audience instead of participants.

People start treating politicians like POP Groups, where everyone has their own biases. Senators become “idols” to defend instead of officials to question. Criticism becomes “cancel culture.” Accountability becomes “bias.” Public service becomes branding. WHAT THE ACTUAL F*CK.

This is why the recent Senate chaos matters beyond its entertainment value. It reflects how political institutions are increasingly shaped by media performance. Every interruption becomes content. Every heated exchange becomes a meme. Every Senate hallway becomes a potential TikTok edit with dramatic music and captions.

The line between governance and spectacle keeps getting thinner.

Still, amidst all the noise in the Senate, one thing remains clear: public frustration is real. The protests outside the Senate did not emerge from nowhere. Neither did the outrage online. Whether one supports or opposes certain political figures, Filipinos are reacting to a growing feeling that accountability in the country depends more on political alliances than on institutions.

That distrust is dangerous.

When people stop believing that institutions function fairly, democracy weakens. People lose confidence not only in politicians but in the system itself—the very system that was meant to protect them. And when politics becomes pure show, truth itself becomes secondary to performance.

The Senate can still recover its credibility, but that requires senators to remember something basic: they are not influencers, livestreamers, or main characters in a political drama series.

They are public servants.

The Filipino people do not need another viral Senate moment. They need leaders capable of seriousness, restraint, and actual governance.

While politicians continue their endless political drama series, the public is left watching this chaos—now accompanied by fear, tension, and exhaustion—wondering whether anyone inside the chamber still knows, or remembers, who they are supposed to be serving. Filipinos do not deserve this.