An analysis of contemporary history would show that it is the norm for Philippine politics to move at an unhurried pace. The Aquino-led government installed by the first People Power Revolution, for example, had to wait for nearly a year after its assumption of authority before it could ratify its 1987 Constitution. In the 2010 presidential elections, it took Congress almost a month to declare an official winner, even with the help of a computerized and automated polling system. The entire issue of reproductive health has been in an endless cycle of debates, by way of more than five bills on the matter that have been pushed in the legislature for the past thirteen years.
With this dawdling performance record, it was a peculiar move for the Lower House to file an impeachment case against the Chief Justice Renato Corona in one single session. Over a day’s period, allies of the Aquino administration in the House were able to collect 188 signatures in favor of the eight articles of impeachment, clearly more than the required number of one-third of the 287 House members. Take note that this is the very same Congress that had failed to muster quorum to produce a final decision with regard to the Freedom of Information Bill—a key piece of legislation that has stagnated within its halls for more than a decade and counting.
Whether or not Corona is guilty of the accusations levelled against him, the uncharacteristic speed that had blatantly manifested in the filing of his impeachment in the House of Representatives caused many to doubt. Critics question whether due process had been followed.
Recent news reports have shown empirical evidence for Corona’ alleged ill-gotten wealth, in which his real estate assets amounted to about 200 million pesos. Quite surely, complaints against the Chief Justice have not come ex nihilo. The Lower House’s actions on that December day seemed to point to the opposite, though—that Corona’s impeachment was an emotionally charged effort rather than one founded on strong evidence and well-reasoned intentions. Clearly, the Aquino administration had the grounds to seek Corona’s impeachment, but they seemed to have skipped on deliberations on such evidence prior to the filing of the case.
To see the head of the judicial branch of government suddenly facing an impeachment complaint after a single session of Congress would always leave the impression that there must have been some skulduggery. This whole affair is, in many ways, turning out to be a clear of example of petty politicking rather than of a genuine, well-intentioned political exercise.
The whole field of power relations is just as concerned with the unwritten as with the written. The mere fact that the president has been very vocal and blatant with his desire to see Corona removed from office puts into question how much influence his executive powers have on the other co-equal branches of government. That, of course, poses very real dangers—something akin to the devious power play pursued by the previous administration with the country’s justice system.
After all, bureaucracy is a two-way street. It can slow up or speed down the system at the behest of the hegemon.
