Your honor, you are dishonorable
The Senate was created for debate, accountability, and physical presence — not for lawmakers to hide behind screens while rewriting the rules to protect allies.
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Daily TribuneThe Senate was created for debate, accountability, and physical presence — not for lawmakers to hide behind screens while rewriting the rules to protect allies.
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The Senate is not a Zoom meeting
Senator Robin Padilla’s attempt to stretch the definition of force majeure may have done more damage to the Senate majority.
By his logic, wars abroad, tensions between China and Taiwan, terrorism, and weather disturbances can justify the Senate going online to do its job. Tomorrow, perhaps heavy traffic on EDSA can also qualify.
The law does not bend to imagination.
Under the Civil Code and Supreme Court rulings, a force majeure exists when circumstances make it impossible for officials to perform their duties normally.
The Senate is open. Sessions are ongoing. Senators continue to travel, campaign, hold press conferences, and appear at public events. No bombs are falling on Manila. No state of national emergency exists.
Yet the majority bloc suddenly wants to loosen the rules for remote voting at the precise time Sen. Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa is trying to avoid arrest linked to his ICC case.
Filipinos are not blind. Padilla’s posts did not defend the proposal. They exposed it.
Worse, they insulted the intelligence of the public by equating hypothetical scenarios with an actual constitutional crisis. The Senate was created for debate, accountability and physical presence — not for lawmakers to hide behind screens while rewriting the rules to protect allies.
This is not a force majeure. This is political self-preservation pretending to be a national concern.
Mr. Padilla, as your fellow majority bloc member said, “Eto ang mahirap kasi kung wala tayong legal background dito (That’s what’s hard about not having a legal background).”
— Jason Mago
Just resign
It is now painfully obvious why certain senators behave the way they do.
Personal debts. Utang na loob. Political survival. A calculation aimed at 2028. It has nothing to do with the people who put them there.
The Senate exists because the Constitution demands it — a chamber of lawmakers to craft legislation, give voice to their constituents, hold power accountable. Not a venue for personal vendettas. Not a sanctuary for the accused. Not a shield for those being investigated for crimes against the very people they swore to serve.
And yet here we are.
It is now clear who certain senators truly serve. Not their constituents. Not the republic. But a patron. Someone who if they ally with will guarantee their survival in the next election. Someone, perhaps, who needs protection — and found it inside the Senate hall.
The chamber has been turned into a fortress. Not for democracy. But for the powerful and the indicted.
Politicians have always been political animals — that much is true. There was a time, however, when the title carried weight. When being addressed as Senator meant something. When it commanded respect.
Now it draws laughter. Now it draws mockery. The title that once inspired reverence has become a joke — said by clowns who protect criminals, who serve everyone else but the Filipino people.
If the people are the last thing on your mind, do the one decent thing that you can do.
Just resign.
— Carl Magadia
Parental guidance advised
When you are a kid, television shapes the way you think. That is why parents keep children away from stupidity — so they do not grow up normalizing it.
The Senate, every 3 p.m., is becoming a show not meant for kids.
In its latest episode, the majority bloc wanted lawmakers to participate remotely.
When convicting a criminal, proceedings are conducted face-to-face. Criminal procedures, arraignments and trials are held in person. Justice requires a physical presence — but apparently legislation no longer does.
This is a slap in the face of Filipinos who must endure endless queues, polluted streets and cramped, overheated public transport just to physically report for work and school every day.
Senators work in air-conditioned offices, ride in luxury vehicles, with drivers waiting for them. The only thing that may truly inconvenience some of them is an ICC warrant.
Senators, dressed in pressed barongs and woven Filipiniana, sit on a national pedestal. The public watches them deliver speeches, pledge reforms and condemn corruption from the pulpit — only to bend the rules the moment their allies need protection.
No force majeure requires senators to work remotely — unless they need the vote of someone in hiding or in detention. Bato, a former police chief, is now in hiding. Jinggoy and Joel could soon face plunder and malversation complaints over their alleged links to the Bulacan flood control scandal.
The upper chamber is now forcing a major institutional change to serve its own interests. The real force majeure here is political survival.
Well, at least Lito Lapid still manages to make Pia Cayetano “kilig” (thrilled) with his gifts of kakanin (native cakes).
The Senate is f**ked (Reader, you translate this).
I’d rather have my kids take a siesta than watch television at 3 p.m.
— Vivienne Angeles
