The Due Process The Duterte Lawyers Like

 

Sara Duterte’s lawyers are pitching a wild constitutional remix: they claim investigating her is illegal, yet hurling baseless accusations is totally fine—provided no one actually checks the facts.

Experts describe this doctrine as a de facto, yet unseen, application of due process.”

According to this emerging philosophy, the House of Representatives of the Philippines must initiate impeachment… preferably with eyes closed, ears covered, and absolutely no questions asked. 

Evidence is tricky. If you allow hearings now, you might end up knowing the truth later.

Meanwhile, the Senate of the Philippines is said to be the only place where anything resembling a “trial” may occur—because clearly, gathering facts beforehand is an outrageous violation of procedural purity.

Instead of building a case, why not just go with the flow?

Observers note that the House Committee on Justice has long engaged in hearings, witness testimonies, and evidence review. 

In this transformative era of legal revisionism, legal precedents are seen merely as polite suggestions—similar to speed limits you can always ignore ... or resolutions you don’t have to keep.

Critics of the defense’s argument have pointed out a minor inconsistency: refusing to attend hearings and then complaining about a lack of due process is a bit like skipping class and blaming the teacher for your ignorance. 

But perhaps this, too, is part of the strategy—if you never show up, the process can never technically include you.

There is also growing concern about the potential ripple effects. 

If the Supreme Court of the Philippines were to agree, the impeachment process could be streamlined into a highly efficient system where:

• The House files cases without evidence
• The Senate receives cases without context
• And the public receives explanations… eventually, maybe

Efficiency has never looked so mysterious.

Supporters of the traditional system argue that impeachment was designed with a simple division of labor: the House investigates, the Senate tries. 

Yet, this interpretation dares to defy conventional wisdom, proposing that we simply trust the process to self-correct, leaving investigation behind.

At its core, the debate raises a profound constitutional question: is accountability best achieved through scrutiny—or through carefully avoiding it?

For now, the nation watches as legal arguments evolve in real time, proving once again that in Philippine politics, the Constitution is not just a document—it’s a living text, occasionally rewritten by whoever has the most creative interpretation that week.

Because in the end, why confront evidence when you can redefine it out of existence?