A Self Made Circus

Ah, Vice President Sara—truly a paragon of self-inflicted drama and impulsive antics.

With the weight of the nation on her shoulders, a bit of thoughtful restraint might be in order.

But no, she marches boldly into controversy, waving her bravado like a flag, challenging presidents (yes, plural), and throwing shade so thick it could block out the sun.

And when the heat of her own making becomes too much, what does she do?

She delegates the mess to her loyal troops in the Senate and the House, who valiantly defend her honor with all the subtlety of a soap opera fight scene.

Let’s be honest here: none of us would be talking about Bong Suntay’s outrageous disrespect toward Anne Curtis if not for VP Sara’s spectacular show of hubris.

If she did not do what prudent politicians should do (like avoiding the urge to threaten the lives of the president, even when the lure or the temptation was overwhelming and a relentless pull), Bong Suntay would not be in this kind of scrutiny, and the whole country and Ann Curtis would be spared from all those sleazy analogies

It’s her swagger that sets the stage, her desire for defenders that summoned the likes of Topacio, Panelo, and Jay Sonza—each adding their own brand of twisted logic to the fray.

Had she paused to think before unleashing her verbal fireworks, perhaps those legal heavyweights wouldn’t have been dragged into this circus.

And just when you thought the drama couldn’t get any juicier, in comes VP Sara’s second act of impulsiveness: the public airing of Gerville Luistro’s alleged debts.

Is that now the order of the day that when you owe the Dutertes something, you will be outed and the whole world will know your financial difficulties?

Like, if you don't give in to their wishes ... was the act of silencing you can be interpreted as intimidation, or a blackmail by threatening your reputation?

Much more when personal financial matters are weaponized and used as a political wedge.

(Wedge issues are a divisive and highly polarizing tactic introduced to split an opponent's voter base, energize their own supporters, and dominate political debate, forcing the public to take sides on controversial topics like owing the family a lump sum of money.

The implied logic? If you owe someone money, you must forever be silent or enslaved by gratitude—no matter the gravity of the accusations you face.

It’s a curious theory, this idea that debt equals silence, and it’s fast becoming a pattern in VP Sara’s playbook.

Remember when she did the same to Risa Hontiveros, reminding her of past favors as if to say, “You owe me, so zip it”?

This toxic notion of “utang na loob” as a leash binding politicos into unthinking loyalty raises serious questions: Are Bong Suntay and others merely pawns, dancing on strings pulled by debts and favors?

One wonders: Is this the grand design behind the VP’s theatrics?

To create a loyal army trapped in webs of obligation, ready to defend her no matter how far the logic strays or the insults fly?

If so, it’s a brilliant yet troubling spectacle—a political chess game where pawns are bound by debt and leaders play fast and loose with dignity.

In the end, VP Sara’s saga is a cautionary tale about the dangers of impulsive bravado, the perils of toxic loyalty, and the spectacle of a leader who crafts her own controversies only to hide behind her army of defenders.

The question remains: is she leading, or merely orchestrating a drama where everyone else plays a part in her self-made circus? Only time—and perhaps a clearer conscience—will tell.