THERE are political mistakes. There are strategic blunders. And then there are those rare moments when politicians become so convinced of their own narrative that they publicly stage their own embarrassment. What recently transpired involving Senators Pia Cayetano, Alan Peter Cayetano, Imee Marcos, Loren Legarda, Rodante Marcoleta and Robin Padilla belongs firmly in that category.
What was presented as a hearing of the Senate Blue Ribbon Committee was, in reality, something far less impressive and far more revealing. It was essentially a political reenactment staged by politicians who either no longer possess the authority they appeared to be exercising or who seem unwilling to accept the political realities that have overtaken them. It was less a Senate hearing and more a Senate cosplay event, complete with titles, microphones, dramatic witnesses, and an audience willing to suspend disbelief.
Sen. Pia Cayetano appeared to conduct what was represented as a Blue Ribbon Committee hearing. Yet one inconvenient fact refuses to disappear. Pia Cayetano is no longer the chairman of the Blue Ribbon Committee. Her brother, Alan Peter Cayetano, is no longer Senate president. More importantly, the Senate itself has already reorganized under a new majority coalition led by Acting Senate President Sherwin Gatchalian.
What makes the spectacle particularly ironic is that the very politicians questioning the legitimacy of the new leadership are relying on arguments that run contrary to established jurisprudence and Senate practice. In Avelino v. Cuenco, the Supreme Court recognized the authority of the Senate to reorganize itself, and considered absences of senators beyond its coercive reach when a majority in adjusting the quorum.
The objections become even harder to sustain when one examines Senate history. There have been occasions when Senate sessions proceeded with only 12 senators physically present. Some of those sessions were attended by the very same Cayetanos who are now questioning the legitimacy of proceedings conducted under similar circumstances. At the time, no one warned that democracy was collapsing. The Senate continued its work, and the institution moved forward.
Yet today, 12 senators are suddenly being portrayed as evidence of illegitimacy. Apparently, 12 was acceptable then but is now unconstitutional because it became politically inconvenient. This selective interpretation of the rules would be amusing if it were not being presented with such solemn seriousness. It asks the public to forget not only Senate history but also the participation of the very politicians now objecting to it. The Senate records remain stubbornly inconvenient witnesses, documenting instances when 12 senators constituted a functional quorum without provoking constitutional outrage. What has changed is not the number 12, but who happens to benefit from or harmed by it.
Official committee hearings are conducted pursuant to Senate rules, supported by committee secretariats, documented through official records, and backed by institutional procedures. These mechanisms exist precisely to distinguish legitimate proceedings from political performances.
The committee secretariat was not present during the so-called hearing, and that the usual administrative requirements associated with an official hearing were absent. Yet the participants proceeded as though authority could simply be self-declared.
By that logic, former student council officers could gather in a restaurant and proclaim themselves the legitimate student government.
Authority in a democracy belongs to institutions, not personalities. Once a senator ceases to be committee chairman, that senator no longer exercises the powers attached to that office simply because he or she disagrees with the decision.
What transformed the gathering from a questionable proceeding into political self-parody, however, was not just the issue of committee authority. It was the testimonies presented.
After all the grandstanding and declarations about accountability, the centerpiece of the event turned out to be allegations that required the public to suspend disbelief.
One allegation involved money supposedly being given to a staff member of Sen. Tito Sotto. The problem is that the individual being referred to had already passed away at the time. Apparently, the public is now expected to believe that political operatives have expanded their lobbying operations beyond the living.
Another allegation involved the supposed offer of a specific model of mobile phone as an inducement. Unfortunately for the storytellers, the particular model being mentioned had not yet been released at the time the alleged offer supposedly took place. This leaves only two possibilities: either someone had access to technology from the future, or the story was assembled with less attention to detail because it was rushed, or dictated.
At that point, the hearing ceased to resemble an investigation and began looking like a crossover between political theater and science fiction.
The tragedy is not that such allegations were made. Politics has never lacked imaginative storytellers. The tragedy is that these claims were treated by some as though they were self-evidently credible.
Yet these are the very same people who have consistently questioned and dismissed evidence presented against Vice President Sara Duterte. Affidavits are challenged. Official documents are questioned. Audit findings are doubted. Testimonies are subjected to microscopic scrutiny. But when allegations emerge from a politically sympathetic platform, skepticism suddenly goes on leave.
When evidence points toward accountability for Sara Duterte, doubt becomes a civic virtue. Every witness must be challenged. Every document must be dissected. Every inconsistency must be magnified. But when stories involve dead recipients receiving money and unreleased phones being offered as gifts, critical thinking apparently becomes optional.
And that is perhaps the greatest irony of the entire spectacle. The hearing was supposedly convened in pursuit of truth. Yet it ended up demonstrating how truth is often subordinated to political convenience.
Instead of persuading institutions, some politicians increasingly attempt to imitate them. Instead of winning majorities, they manufacture alternative platforms. Instead of accepting political defeats, they construct parallel realities in which defeat never occurred.
In this alternative universe, Pia Cayetano still acts like Blue Ribbon chairman while Alan Peter Cayetano still behaves as though he is Senate president. Loren Legarda, who asserts she is not AI, still believes she is Senate president pro-tempore. The result resembles less a Senate inquiry and more that last gasps of politicians desperately clinging to power.
The author is a professor at the University of the Philippines Los Baños and vice chairman of the board of state-run PTVNI.
