EDITORIAL: Due Process, But Make it A Stair Chase

That question is no longer theoretical. It is echoed by recent events that have unsettled the nation. On May 11, 2026, the International Criminal Court (ICC) unsealed a warrant linked to allegations against Senator Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa in connection with the drug war under former president Rodrigo Roa Duterte, a campaign in which human rights groups estimate around 30,000 lives were lost. These are not just figures but real people—families broken, children orphaned, and communities left without closure. Yet amid repeated invocations of “due process” in defense of the accused, a contradiction emerges. Where was due process in the lives taken? In the absence of answers for grieving families? In a system where justice often arrived too late or not at all?

On the same day, Senator dela Rosa was seen ascending the Senate stairs after a six-month absence, reportedly attempting to avoid agents of the National Bureau of Investigation (NBI). The symbolism was difficult to ignore—a place meant for lawmaking appearing instead as a refuge from the law itself. Unlike ordinary citizens who face legal summons without temporary restraining orders or a dozen press conferences, institutional power seemed capable of creating space for political maneuvering. This sharply contrasts the earlier example of the student—his punishment was immediate because fairness demanded consistency, whereas political influence appeared capable of suspending that same standard for the powerful. 

Tensions further escalated in the following days. By Wednesday, reports emerged of an unprecedented gunfire exchange inside the Philippine Senate amid mounting political pressure surrounding dela Rosa’s situation. Some sectors alleged that the confrontation was not merely spontaneous unrest but part of a calculated political maneuver meant to generate sympathy and create a smokescreen for his escape. Whether these claims are ultimately proven or not, what remains undeniable is the growing public perception that the Senate is no longer simply under scrutiny from outside forces, but increasingly compromised from within, where institutional power blurs the line between protection and evasion.

In this context, the claim that the Senate was “under attack” takes on a more unsettling meaning. Yes, it is under attack—but not from external forces. It is under attack from within, as institutions meant to uphold accountability become entangled in protecting those who should be subject to it. Even Senate President Alan Peter S. Cayetano’s declaration reflects this irony—the institution appears to be defending itself from a threat emerging inside its own structure, where accountability itself becomes blurred and negotiable.

This erosion does not stay within political walls. Instead, it spreads outward, shaping how citizens perceive truth. When those in power appear exempt, compliance with the law weakens. Corruption no longer needs to prove itself through trials. Instead, it survives through normalization, exhaustion, and acceptance.

Yet normalization is precisely what allows injustice to endure. The rule of law survives not because it is perfectly enforced, but because it is still believed in by those who continue to follow it even when belief is inconvenient. Every act of integrity becomes a refusal to accept selective fairness. Hence, when institutions falter, the responsibility does not simply disappear, but shifts to those who can truly make a change.

Therefore, the duty now falls heavily on the youth. If the Senate is under attack from within, then its defense cannot rely on those inside it alone. It must come from awareness, participation, and refusal to accept distortion as truth. The youth must register and vote—not only for leaders, but for accountability itself. Moreover, rejecting “popular truth” as unquestionable truth is the first step in restoring weakened institutions. Because when institutions bend inward, it is the next generation that decides whether they collapse under that weight or stand to correct them.