When democracy has a price tag
The answer will matter to those accused and to every Filipino who might one day consider donating, volunteering their time, or participating in our democracy.
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The answer will matter to those accused and to every Filipino who might one day consider donating, volunteering their time, or participating in our democracy.
Voices are getting louder these days. Big names have been grabbing the headlines. Senator Rodante Marcoleta and former representative Mike Defensor. Plunder, arrests, and bail — the kind of political drama that dominates social media feeds. Depending on where you sit, it’s either justice finally catching up with the corrupt or another episode in our never-ending telenovela of political vendettas.
What the headlines aren’t shouting are the names of two private businessmen who find themselves in the same legal crossfire. They’re not politicians, nor do they hold public office. They transferred P75 million that prosecutors have now deemed unlawful.
When one becomes a public official, one signs up for a different level of scrutiny. They take oaths to uphold the public trust. When corruption allegations surface against public figures, the public’s appetite for answers is both understandable and necessary.
Private citizens, however, operate on a different level. Their dealings with politicians shouldn’t automatically be a liability. The prosecution needs to prove conduct, knowledge, and intent. More than a legal technicality, it’s the foundation of any criminal justice system worth the name.
Now, we’re watching two businessmen potentially lose their freedom — not necessarily because of what they knew or intended, but because of who they chose to support with their checks.
As things grow truly unsettling, the case centers on campaign transfers allegedly omitted from the Commission on Elections’ disclosure requirements. Plunder requires proof, though, that a public officer amassed ill-gotten wealth through unlawful acts — and that anyone charged alongside them knowingly participated in that scheme.
Is a campaign donation automatically evidence of a conspiracy? The prosecution has to show that each accused person knew they were part of something criminal.
The available facts suggest these weren’t secret transactions. Deeds of donation were executed. The money was stated to be for a political campaign. The donor’s tax was reportedly paid. This isn’t saying that these facts prove their innocence — the courts will weigh all the evidence. Bu they do suggest these businessmen weren’t exactly operating in the shadows.
If the prosecution has evidence that these weren’t campaign donations but corrupt payments, they should present it, test it in court, and let the defense challenge it. That’s how the system works.
What shouldn’t happen is treating all four defendants as interchangeable because their names appear in the same Information. One defendant’s conduct doesn’t automatically establish another’s intent. In lawyer-speak, that’s conspiracy law 101, and it matters now more than ever.
This case sends a message to every Filipino who might want to participate in our democracy.
Campaigns, evidently, don’t run on enthusiasm alone. They depend on volunteers, expertise, and financial support from citizens who believe in a cause. Apparently, these are legitimate forms of civic participation — not evidence of criminal conspiracy.
If donating to a candidate can later land you in jail because that candidate failed to meet his own reporting obligations, civic-minded citizens would rather stay home, keep their wallets closed, and let the politicians fend for themselves. A democracy-dampening disaster, isn’t it?
This is not an argument against the strict enforcement of campaign finance laws. Transparency matters, and candidates, not a few but all, who violate disclosure rules should be held accountable. Illegal contributions should be absolutely investigated.
Consistency, however, has to cut both ways. The law must apply equally to everyone, including ordinary citizens caught up in high-profile cases. Each accused person should be judged based on the evidence against them — not simply because they are linked to more prominent defendants.
This case goes beyond campaign finance or plunder. At its core is a simple principle that should apply regardless of political affiliation: a person should be held criminally responsible only for their own actions.
Filipinos see this as an opportunity for the courts to uphold this basic principle. Their role is not to take sides on campaign donations or political disputes, but to carefully determine whether the evidence against each person meets the requirements of the law.
That includes the two businessmen, whose freedom now hangs in the balance and whose circumstances may ultimately shape the case’s broader implications.
Even after the political debates fade, one important question lingers — can a private citizen lose their freedom simply for supporting a political candidate, or must the State first prove that they knowingly took part in a criminal conspiracy?
The answer will matter to those accused and to every Filipino who might one day consider donating, volunteering their time, or participating in our democracy.
And if guilt by association becomes the standard, many of us may think twice before getting involved at all.
