I have been watching the Senate impeachment hearings against Vice President Sara Duterte with a growing sense of unease that I can no longer keep to myself. There is something deeply troubling about watching the machinery of justice grind forward while some of its operators seem determined to sabotage it from within.
Every senator-judge stood before this nation and swore an oath-not merely to participate, not merely to preside, but to administer impartial justice according to the Philippine Constitution and our laws. They concluded that oath with the words ‘So help me God,’ a religious invocation that I, as a person of faith, take seriously. But watching the proceedings unfold, I find myself wondering: did those words mean anything at all to some of the people who uttered them?
The oath is not decorative. It is not a formality to be rushed through before the real work of politics begins. It is, or should be, a solemn covenant with the Filipino people that justice-not loyalty, not friendship, not political survival-will guide their deliberations.
And yet.
Senator Robin Padilla stood before the public on June 9, 2025, and declared with theatrical bravado: ‘Kahit sunugin mo ako dito, mangangamoy Rodrigo Roa Duterte ako’-roughly translated, ‘Even if you burn me here, I will smell like Rodrigo Roa Duterte.’ He was not merely expressing sympathy or calling for due process. He was announcing, proudly and unequivocally, that his loyalty to the Duterte family is unwavering and absolute. This was a deliberate statement of allegiance.
The timing matters. Padilla made this declaration after confirming he had drafted Senate Resolution No. 1371, seeking to declare the impeachment proceedings terminated. Think about what this means: a senator-judge, sworn to impartiality, was actively working to end the trial before it could properly begin, while simultaneously proclaiming his allegiance to the family of the accused.
Then there is Senator Pia Cayetano and the spliced video controversy. Here was a senator-judge uploading manipulated footage on social media-footage that conveniently supported defense arguments about prosecutors seeking financial records. The House prosecution panel cried foul, and rightfully so. How can a judge who disseminates edited material favorable to one side claim to be weighing evidence fairly? The ethics complaint filed against her hangs in the air like an unanswered question, a ghost of accountability that seems destined to remain unaddressed.
These are not minor procedural irregularities. These are public declarations of partiality, broadcast for all to see, as if the rules no longer apply to those who make them.
Which brings me to the question that keeps me awake at night: What will Sen. Chiz Escudero do?
As presiding judge, Escudero holds a position that demands more than procedural expertise. He is the steward of this process, the guardian of its integrity. The Constitution and the rules of impeachment place extraordinary power in his hands- not power to be wielded for personal ambition, but power to be exercised with wisdom and courage.
I understand the political calculations at play. The Duterte family remains a formidable force in Philippine politics, and crossing them carries consequences. But there are moments in a nation’s history when the cost of silence exceeds the cost of action. This is one of those moments.
What does impartiality mean if it cannot be enforced? What value is an oath if there is no consequence for breaking it? If Senator Padilla can publicly declare himself an extension of the Duterte political dynasty and face no sanction, then we have transformed impeachment from a constitutional safeguard into political theater-elaborate, expensive, and ultimately meaningless.
I find myself returning to that oath: ‘I will administer impartial justice according to the Constitution and laws of the Philippines. So help me God.’
The phrase ‘So help me God’ is not merely ceremonial. It is an acknowledgment that human justice is imperfect, that we require guidance beyond our own interests, that there is a higher standard to which we are accountable. For those of us who believe, it is a prayer. For those who do not, it should still serve as a reminder that the law stands above any individual or family.
My prayer, then, is for Sen. Chiz Escudero. I pray that he finds the courage to be the steady anchor that our democracy needs in these turbulent times. I pray that he remembers that his duty is not to the senators who may snarl or scheme behind closed doors, but to the Constitution he swore to uphold and to the Filipino people who are watching.
The Senate impeachment court is not a private club where members protect one another from accountability. It is a court of last resort, a place where evidence must be weighed against evidence, where arguments must stand on their merit, and where the oath of impartiality must mean something concrete and enforceable.
Justice without enforcement is merely suggestion. Impartiality without consequence is merely performance.
I watch and I wait. I hope that the presiding judge will prove equal to this moment, that he will remind his colleagues that their oath was not given to the Duterte family, nor to any political alliance, but to the Republic and to the Filipino people.
As I wrote in my recent column, I have great faith in Senator Chiz Escudero, a fellow Sorsogueño.
Dr. Jesus Lim Arranza is the Chairman Emeritus of the Federation of Philippine Industries and concurrent Chairman of the Anti-Smuggling and Anti-Illicit Trade Committee.