Introduction
Philippine politics has never been a realm of permanent friendships. Alliances are forged for convenience, sustained by mutual interest, and dissolved when their usefulness expires. The spectacular rupture between the Marcos and Duterte camps therefore, should not surprise students of politics. What deserves closer examination is the speed, ferocity, and apparent determination with which former allies have turned against one another.
What the public is witnessing today is not merely a disagreement over personalities, policies, or political style. It is, at its core, a struggle over power, succession, and survival. The former Uniteam coalition, which delivered a commanding victory in 2022, has evolved into two rival political camps competing to shape the country's future after 2028.
Viewed from this perspective, congressional investigations, public accusations, legal maneuvers, impeachment efforts, and political attacks cease to appear as isolated events. Instead, they become pieces of a larger strategic contest whose ultimate prize is Malacañang.
The battle is not really about the past. It is about the future.
The Shadow of 2028
Most Filipinos are understandably focused on today's concerns—prices, wages, jobs, transportation, education, public services, and public safety. Politicians, however, often think several moves ahead.
For every administration, the second half of a presidential term eventually becomes dominated by succession politics. The question gradually shifts from "How do we govern?" to "Who governs next?" Throughout history, ruling coalitions have sought to ensure that political power remains in friendly hands after an incumbent leaves office.
The reasons are obvious. A successor can preserve policies, protect allies, maintain political networks, and reduce the likelihood of politically damaging investigations into past decisions. Losing power, on the other hand, introduces uncertainty.
From this standpoint, the Duterte camp represents the most formidable obstacle to any administration-backed succession strategy. Former President Rodrigo Duterte continues to command significant loyalty among millions of Filipinos. More importantly, the Duterte political network remains extensive, stretching from local governments to grassroots organizations and political operators across the country.
No serious political strategist would ignore such a force. If the objective is to shape the outcome of 2028, weakening the strongest rival long before the campaign officially begins becomes a logical, if ruthless, political calculation.
The Sara Duterte Factor
At the center of this political equation stands Vice President Sara Duterte.
Whether one admires her or opposes her, it is difficult to deny her electoral strength. She possesses the attributes every presidential contender desires: national recognition, a loyal support base, substantial political machinery, and the enduring influence of the Duterte brand.
This reality gives much of today's political conflict its urgency.
Supporters of the administration maintain that investigations involving the Vice President are legitimate exercises of constitutional oversight and accountability. In any democracy, public officials must answer questions concerning public funds and official conduct.
Critics, however, view these developments through a different lens. They argue that the campaign against Sara Duterte cannot be separated from the political consequences it may produce. To them, what is unfolding resembles a deliberate effort to weaken the strongest prospective challenger to an administration-backed candidate in 2028.
Politics rarely ignores opportunity. Nor does it willingly leave powerful rivals unchallenged.
Weaponizing Impeachment?
The impeachment initiatives directed against the Vice President have become one of the defining controversies of the current political landscape.
Supporters insist that impeachment is a constitutional safeguard designed to hold senior officials accountable for serious misconduct. They argue that public office carries public responsibility and that no official should be shielded from scrutiny by popularity or political influence.
Critics, however, see something more troubling. They contend that what is taking place amounts to the weaponizing of impeachment—the transformation of a constitutional accountability mechanism into a political instrument for weakening or eliminating a rival.
Under this interpretation, impeachment ceases to be primarily about establishing wrongdoing and becomes part of a broader strategy to reshape the electoral landscape before voters ever reach the ballot box.
The timing fuels such suspicions. Sara Duterte is not simply another public official; she is widely regarded as the strongest presidential contender in 2028. Any process capable of politically damaging, distracting, or even disqualifying such a figure inevitably raises questions about motive. Is the objective accountability, political neutralization, or some combination of both?
This is the dilemma inherent in every highly politicized impeachment. Even where legitimate issues exist, public confidence can be undermined if citizens conclude that constitutional processes are being driven primarily by partisan calculation. Once the perception of weaponized impeachment takes hold, every hearing, testimony, and procedural maneuver becomes suspect in the eyes of supporters and opponents alike.
The Thin Line Between Accountability and Political Elimination
History offers many examples of political figures who emerged stronger after being portrayed as victims of political persecution. Attempts to destroy rivals sometimes elevate them instead. Political overreach has a habit of producing unintended consequences.
Political history is replete with examples of leaders and institutions employing legal and constitutional processes against powerful rivals. The impeachment of Dilma Rousseff in Brazil (2016), the prosecution and imprisonment of Anwar Ibrahim in Malaysia (1998–2004 and again 2015–2018), the legal cases confronting Imran Khan in Pakistan (2022–present), and the impeachment of Philippine Chief Justice Renato Corona (2011–2012) all ignited fierce debates over the same question: where does legitimate accountability end and political elimination begin? In every case, supporters invoked the rule of law while critics alleged political motivation.
In every case, supporters invoked the rule of law while opponents alleged political motivation. The crucial issue was not merely legality but legitimacy. Citizens may accept painful outcomes when they trust the impartiality of institutions. They become skeptical when legal processes appear to coincide too conveniently with political interests. It is in that gray area—between justice and power—that today's controversies are being interpreted by many Filipinos.
The administration therefore faces a delicate challenge: convincing the public that impeachment is an exercise in accountability rather than an exercise in political warfare. Failure to do so risks transforming the target into a symbol of resistance and strengthening the very movement it seeks to weaken.
The ICC Factor and the Future of Senator Bato dela Rosa
Another development frequently viewed through the lens of succession politics is the renewed attention being given to the legal and political implications of proceedings involving the International Criminal Court and their potential effect on Senator Ronald dela Rosa.
For advocates of international accountability mechanisms, the issue is straightforward. If credible allegations exist regarding actions undertaken during the anti-drug campaign of the Duterte administration, then those who designed, implemented, or supervised those policies should be subject to legal scrutiny regardless of rank or political status. From this perspective, accountability is not politics; it is justice.
Critics, however, argue that politics cannot be divorced from the timing and consequences of such proceedings. Senator dela Rosa is not merely a former police chief. He remains one of the Duterte camp's most visible, loyal, and politically effective figures. He serves as defender, surrogate, and public champion of the Duterte political brand. Any legal development that sidelines, discredits, or politically weakens him inevitably affects the broader Duterte coalition.
Another Front in the 2028 Political War
Consequently, many Duterte supporters view the ICC issue not merely as a legal matter but as another front in a larger political war. In their view, the impeachment effort against Sara Duterte, the investigations targeting Duterte allies, and the legal pressure stemming from ICC proceedings are part of a broader strategy to dismantle the Duterte political infrastructure piece by piece before 2028.
Whether this interpretation is accurate or not, the political implications are undeniable. If Senator dela Rosa were politically neutralized through legal proceedings, the Duterte camp would lose one of its most recognizable national voices and one of its most aggressive defenders in the Senate. The result would be a weakening not merely of an individual politician but of an entire political network.
The Risk of Creating a Martyr
Yet there is also a strategic risk for those perceived as encouraging such an outcome. If large segments of the public conclude that legal institutions—whether domestic or international—are being selectively utilized to remove political opponents, the narrative may shift from accountability to persecution, from justice to political targeting. In Philippine politics, perceived victimization has often proven to be a powerful mobilizing force.
Ironically, attempts to weaken a political movement sometimes strengthen it. Supporters who might otherwise be complacent become energized. Political figures facing legal pressure acquire the aura of resistance. Neutral observers begin questioning motives. What was intended as a decisive blow can become a rallying cry.
Beyond the Courtroom
This is why the ICC issue carries significance beyond the courtroom. It affects perceptions of legitimacy, fairness, and political intent. It influences how millions of Filipinos interpret the broader conflict unfolding between the Marcos-Romualdez coalition and the Duterte camp.
In that sense, the fate of Senator Bato dela Rosa is not merely a question of law. It is also a question of political symbolism. To supporters, he represents loyalty, continuity, and defense of the Duterte legacy. To opponents, he represents accountability for a controversial chapter in Philippine governance. To political strategists on both sides, he is one of several key pieces on the chessboard of 2028.
Ultimately, the debate extends beyond Senator dela Rosa himself. The larger issue is whether legal institutions are perceived as acting impartially or as participants in political conflict. Public trust is difficult to build and easy to lose. If citizens believe justice is being pursued consistently, institutional legitimacy is strengthened. If they perceive selective enforcement, political polarization deepens. The ICC controversy therefore represents not only a legal challenge but also a test of institutional credibility in an increasingly polarized political environment.
The Flood Control Question
Yet succession politics may not be the only factor driving the intensity of the present conflict. Another issue lurks in the background: the growing controversy surrounding flood control spending.
Over many years, the Philippine government has allocated hundreds of billions of pesos to flood mitigation and flood control projects. Yet after every major typhoon or monsoon season, many communities continue to experience severe flooding. Roads disappear beneath water. Homes are inundated. Businesses suffer losses. Entire neighborhoods become temporary lakes.
The Obvious Question is Difficult to Avoid: Where Did the Money Go?
This question is politically dangerous precisely because it is simple. Citizens may not understand procurement procedures, engineering specifications, or budget execution reports. But they understand flooded streets. They understand damaged property. They understand repeated promises that appear disconnected from visible results.
Consequently, demands for investigations have intensified. Citizens increasingly seek answers regarding project implementation, contractor performance, oversight mechanisms, and the actual effectiveness of expensive infrastructure projects.
Whether the problem involves corruption, incompetence, poor planning, weak enforcement, environmental degradation, or some combination of these factors requires evidence and careful investigation. Politically, however, the issue carries explosive potential.
The Politics of Diversion
Governments have long understood a simple reality: public attention is limited. A dramatic political conflict generates headlines, social media buzz, partisan mobilization, and endless speculation. Political personalities become the story.
Meanwhile, less glamorous issues—such as infrastructure audits, procurement records, contractor accountability, and project effectiveness—struggle to compete for attention. This does not necessarily mean political battles are manufactured as distractions. Genuine rivalries can coexist with convenient diversions.
Whatever the intent, the effect is undeniable. As the Marcos–Duterte conflict dominates headlines and online discourse, public scrutiny shifts from government performance and public spending toward personalities and political intrigue. For an administration facing uncomfortable questions, such a shift is not necessarily unwelcome.
The Risks of Overreach
Political warfare, however, carries risks for everyone involved.
An administration that appears obsessed with eliminating rivals risks creating the impression that governance has become secondary to political survival. Citizens eventually grow weary of endless political combat and begin asking practical questions.
• Why are prices rising?
• Why do infrastructure problems persist?
• Why does flooding remain a recurring national disaster despite enormous expenditures?
• Why do public services often fall short of expectations?
No political narrative can permanently suppress such concerns.
At the same time, opposition forces cannot rely indefinitely on grievance and victimhood. Public sympathy may generate temporary momentum, but voters eventually demand solutions, competence, and credible alternatives.
The danger for both camps is that while they wage war against one another, public frustration may ultimately be directed against the entire political establishment.
Conclusion
The larger issue extends beyond Marcos versus Duterte, Romualdez versus Duterte, or even the 2028 presidential election.
The deeper question is whether Philippine politics remains trapped in a cycle where governance becomes subordinate to elite power struggles.
Flood control projects should be evaluated according to measurable results, transparency, and engineering effectiveness—not according to their usefulness in factional combat. Constitutional mechanisms such as impeachment should function as instruments of accountability—not as perceived weapons of political succession.
Legal institutions should pursue justice impartially—not be perceived as tools for the selective elimination of political adversaries. Elections should revolve around competing visions for national development—not merely contests between rival political dynasties.
Yet the boundaries separating governance from political survival have long been blurred in the Philippines.
That is why many Filipinos increasingly view today's controversies through a broader lens. They suspect that beneath the public arguments over accountability, investigations, budgets, and constitutional processes lies a more fundamental struggle: a contest over who will inherit power after 2028 and who will be politically weakened before that contest begins.
Whether this interpretation is entirely correct remains open to debate. But one reality is difficult to ignore. In Philippine politics, the fiercest battles are rarely fought over the issue publicly being discussed. More often, they are fought over power itself—who possesses it, who seeks it, and who fears losing it.
And power, perhaps more than any other force in public life, rarely reveals its true intentions openly. The louder the rhetoric of principle becomes, the more carefully citizens should examine the interests that lie beneath it. For beneath every great political drama lies the oldest story in politics itself: the struggle to acquire power, preserve power, and prevent others from obtaining it.
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