Philippines: When impeachment becomes a game of real-time strategy

Impeachment in the Philippines was designed as a Constitutional safeguard — a mechanism to hold the powerful to account. 

Today, it is increasingly being treated like a Mobile Legends Bang Bang (MLBB) or a dedicated Roblox real-time strategy game, played most deftly by the country’s dominant dynasties and those who stand behind them.

The Philippine Supreme Court’s recent decision to dismiss the appeal seeking to overturn its July 25, 2025 ruling — which declared the impeachment articles against Vice President Sara Duterte “unconstitutional” — did more than resolve a procedural dispute. 

It reshaped the political landscape.

With about two years left before the start of the 2028 presidential election campaign, it buys time for one of the country’s most formidable political names. 

It also underscores how impeachment has drifted from accountability toward strategy.

For supporters of the ruling, the decision represents a principled defense of constitutional order. It affirms that impeachment is not a blunt political weapon but a legal process bound by rules, safeguards, and due process. 

As Senior Associate Justice Marvic Leonen wrote, “There is a right way to do the right thing at the right time.” Even impeachment, the Court reminded Congress, must obey the Constitution.

Yet the ruling is a reprieve, not a vindication. 

The Court did not weigh the substance of the allegations. It ruled on a technicality: that impeachment complaints cannot be initiated more than once against the same official within a one-year period. 

Article 11, Section 3 (5) of the 1987 Constitution states: "No impeachment proceedings shall be initiated against the same official more than once within a period of one year."

The distinction matters. Procedure was upheld; accountability was postponed.

For the Duterte camp, the SC decision blocks immediate removal from office and preserves the vice president’s eligibility for a presidential run. 

Even unsuccessful impeachment attempts carry political risks — keeping allegations alive, forcing defenses, and shaping public perception.

But for now, the most severe consequence of impeachment — permanent disqualification from public office — is off the table.

For critics, however, the ruling underscores how difficult it remains to hold powerful figures accountable. 

They see not closure, but reset.

The one-year bar on impeachment expires on Feb. 6, 2026.

Activist groups and lawmakers have already signalled plans to file fresh complaints once the window opens. 

The political strategy game, in other words, resumes as soon as the clock allows.

This cycle exposes a deeper flaw. 

Impeachment becomes a question of timing, not the truth

When impeachment becomes a matter of timing rather than truth, it risks devolving into legal chess — less about accountability, more about manoeuvring.

Beyond impeachment, the Supreme Court ruling does not erase the growing list of legal challenges confronting the Duterte family, particularly the vice president. 

Complaints before the Office of the Ombudsman allege corruption, plunder, and misuse of public funds, including hundreds of millions of pesos in confidential funds during her tenure as vice president and education secretary. 

Other accusations revisit governance issues from her years as Davao City mayor.

These are not merely political accusations; they are criminal allegations.  While investigations are ongoing and no final judgments have been rendered, the stakes are high. 

Should prosecutors find probable cause, trials could spill into the pre-campaign and campaign periods of 2028. 

Even without convictions, court hearings, investigative findings, and document disclosures could shape voter perceptions more powerfully than any campaign slogan.

This is where the 2028 election truly begins — not in rallies or surveys, but in courtrooms and commission offices. In the Philippines, though, election campaigning practically starts as soon as the last vote is cast in the last elections.

Supporters of the Dutertes argue that the cases are politically motivated, part of a broader effort to weaken a still-potent political force. They point to the Supreme Court ruling as evidence that institutions are resisting partisan pressure — a narrative that resonates with a base deeply skeptical of elite criticism.

Opponents see something else entirely: a system strained by dynastic power, where procedural victories are mistaken for moral clearance. 

To them, a stalled impeachment paired with unresolved corruption cases signals not institutional strength, but institutional exhaustion.

For Filipino taxpayers, the contrast is stark.

On one side stands a potential presidential candidate temporarily insulated from impeachment and bolstered by a powerful political name. 

On the other is a growing web of unresolved legal questions that may come to define both a campaign and the state of democratic accountability.

The deeper cost of this prolonged legal and political struggle is distraction. As Congress, courts, and prosecutors trade procedural blows, governance takes a back seat to political survival.

If impeachment is to mean anything, it must confront the substance of allegations, not merely comply with technical timelines.

If it becomes nothing more than a tool for 2028 positioning, the Filipino taxpayers and voters lose — forced to choose between a leader who has yet to answer the merits of serious accusations and a legislature that repeatedly stumbles over its own constitutional rules.

In the end, the question is not simply whether Sara Duterte can run in 2028.

It is whether the country is willing to confront the uneasy collision between political power and legal accountability — and what it means when that collision happens long before a single vote is cast.

The 2028 general elections is set to become a referendum not just on personalities, dynasties or regional allegiancies, but on accountability itself.