In the Philippines, political storms rarely arrive without warning. But the impeachment of Vice President Sara Duterte has struck with a force few anticipated and with consequences that may outlast the trial itself.

On February 5, the House of Representatives voted overwhelmingly to impeach Duterte, citing allegations of corruption, betrayal of public trust, and even a supposed assassination plot against President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., First Lady Liza Marcos, and House Speaker Martin Romualdez. The charges are serious. The political implications are seismic.

As the Senate hesitates, the public protests, and the ruling coalition fractures, one thing is coming into focus: this moment will test whether the country’s institutions are capable of holding power to account, or whether they’re simply weapons in a broader game of political preservation.

At the center of the impeachment complaint is Duterte’s alleged misuse of ₱125 million in confidential and intelligence funds (CIFs), reportedly spent within just 11 days of taking office in 2022. Critics say this raises questions about fiscal transparency. The more incendiary allegation — a plot to assassinate top government officials — has drawn public shock and firm denials from Duterte.

The House vote was resounding: 215 lawmakers across party lines supported the complaint, far surpassing the constitutional threshold. The Senate, however, responded with caution. After convening as an impeachment court on June 10, senators voted 18–5 to remand the case back to the House for procedural clarification. That move has sparked criticism from civic groups and constitutional scholars alike.

The impeachment has also pulled back the curtain on cracks within the Marcos-Duterte alliance. While President Marcos has remained publicly restrained, his sister, Senator Imee Marcos, defended Duterte and described the effort as a political ploy. Meanwhile, the First Lady, reportedly named in the complaint as a target of the alleged plot, has remained silent.

Duterte’s allies have hinted at possible retaliation, including budget disclosures or administration-level grievances, signaling this could spiral into a political detonation far beyond the vice presidency.

Outside the Senate gates, protesters have already gathered. The Catholic Bishops Conference has urged lawmakers to proceed without obstruction, warning that further delay risks public disillusionment with the justice system. While some see the case as a long-overdue reckoning, others worry it could become another high-profile spectacle, long on drama and short on closure.

Filipinos have seen this before — from the aborted Estrada trial in 2001 to the ousting of Chief Justice Renato Corona in 2012. Each case promised clarity but often delivered confusion and deeper political fragmentation.

The backdrop to all this is the 2028 presidential election. Duterte is seen by many as a formidable contender, assuming she survives politically and legally. The impeachment, even if unsuccessful, could weaken her hand. If it appears orchestrated, it could strengthen her base.

That’s why clarity and due process are vital. Otherwise, the country risks turning yet another trial into a pre-election proxy war.

What’s at stake here isn’t only one official’s future. It’s the credibility of democratic processes. If impeachment is used as a blunt instrument to sideline rivals, the erosion of public trust may be far more damaging than anything written into the charges themselves.

The Senate has a duty to proceed with discipline, not delay. And the public deserves more than political maneuvering behind closed doors. The country has seen what happens when political institutions prioritize self-preservation over principle.