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Sen. Ronald "Bato" dela Rosa's sudden re-emergence in the Senate has sent shockwaves across the country, with his half-a-year unexplained absence sparking a flurry of questions and conspiracy theories.
It’s been barely three weeks since the infamous events that shook and appalled the nation—Sen. Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa shamelessly resurfacing after half-a-year of truancy to cast the vote enabling Sen. Peter Alan Cayetano to mount a successful coup against Senate President Vicente Sotto III, clearly to wrest control of the looming impeachment trial of Vice President Sara Duterte; Dela Rosa fleeing the warrant of arrest from the International Criminal Court (ICC) about to be served by agents of the National Bureau of Investigation, and then using the Senate as ersatz sanctuary on the basis of the “protective custody” afforded him by sympathetic colleagues; the chamber’s security contingent engaging in what would prove to be a sham shootout, despite Cayetano’s hysterical insistence that “the Senate is under attack”; Sen. Robinhood Padilla effectively aiding and abetting a fugitive by bundling Dela Rosa out of the premises aboard his car; and days later, Cayetano’s sister Pia launching into shabby theatrics of her own by wailing on the Senate floor that minority senators didn’t even check up on them in the aftermath of the shooting—never mind that photos they themselves posted showed the majority senators enjoying dinner following the incident.
Any one of these disgraceful moments would gravely dent the Senate’s standing and credibility. All of them happening in quick succession ensured that the so-called upper chamber emerged from the bedlam a sorry shadow of itself, scorned by the public for the lengths some of its supposedly honorable members were willing to go to evade accountability, uphold impunity, and soil their very own house.
And it’s not over. This week saw Cayetano going on Facebook Live yet again to insist on his own narrative of the unprecedented turmoil happening under his watch, using “Pokémon” cards as props. Sen. Imee Marcos, meanwhile, horrified even her own colleagues when she used the Senate floor to present a video alleging a hodgepodge of conspiracy theories—among them, that the administration of her estranged brother, President Marcos, was supposedly in cahoots with allied lawmakers to tinker with the 1987 Constitution to extend their terms of office.
Only after minority senators slammed the unhinged “propaganda video,” pointing out that Imee presented not one piece of evidence or documentation to back up her claims, was the presentation expunged from the record. But by then, the public’s perception of the Senate as now a joke—an institution where all bets are off for machinations, duplicity, lying, and every manner of disreputable conduct—had only been reinforced.
On the same day Imee was further trashing the Senate with her antics, the chamber announced the new composition of its blue ribbon committee, the powerful panel tasked to investigate government corruption and public wrongdoing. But a quick look at the roster and one has to be forgiven for laughing bitterly at the staggering absurdity of the picture.
At the helm is now Sen. Pia Cayetano, with Senators Jinggoy Estrada and Rodante Marcoleta as vice chairs. The majority members include Senators Francis Escudero, Bong Go, Camille Villar, and Mark Villar, Imee, and Padilla.
Nearly every one of them is ironically compromised in some way. Estrada and Escudero may soon face plunder and graft charges related to flood control anomalies. Marcoleta has been sued for plunder and indirect bribery for accepting P75 million in campaign donations. Go could go the way of Dela Rosa, slapped with an ICC warrant. Padilla is under investigation for obstruction of justice for his role in enabling Dela Rosa’s escape.
The Villar siblings have a case at the Securities and Exchange Commission hanging over their heads for alleged market manipulation, fraud, and insider trading.
So the Senate’s very own platform for accountability and redress will be run by people knee-deep in controversy and scandal—and not even of the commonplace kind, but the same major forms of public malfeasance and misconduct they are mandated to investigate and render judgment on. Who would believe the pronouncements of senators deigning to investigate plunder, money laundering, and the like when they themselves come seemingly with unclean hands?
The first casualty of the new configuration will likely be the partial report of former blue ribbon chair Sen. Panfilo Lacson, which bravely recommended investigations against Estrada, Escudero, and Sen. Joel Villanueva, among others, for their alleged links to flood control irregularities. Will the new members ratify a report detrimental to them? That question underscores the embarrassingly obvious conflict of interest inherent in this situation.
Then again, far too many shockers have already been inflicted on the country by this Senate—what’s one more?