The Philippine Senate—long considered the pillar of accountability and political balance—has turned into the stage of an escalating civil war. Power blocs are shifting, alliances are fracturing, and beneath the calm façade lies a struggle for control over a chamber accused of abandoning its duty to expose corruption.
At the heart of this upheaval is the unresolved trillion-peso flood control scandal, an issue so massive that it has shaken public confidence and cost countless Filipino lives. Now, whispers of a looming “rigodon”—a sweeping Senate leadership shake-up—are echoing through the halls of government.
And the man at the center of this storm? Senator Alan Peter Cayetano—a political veteran whose possible return to Senate leadership is dividing colleagues and electrifying critics.
Cayetano’s Momentum: A Bid for Reform or Return of the Old Guard?
Cayetano’s name has surged to the top of speculation lists as political insiders rally around what they call a “reset” for the Senate. Even outspoken former commissioner Atty. Rowena Guanzon hailed him as potentially “the most capable leader” to restore order and integrity to the chamber.
Cayetano’s reputation as a loyalist—once declining the Senate presidency to avoid betraying an ally—has resurfaced as a stark contrast to the current leadership, accused of turning a blind eye to corruption. Critics claim that the present majority, led by Senate President Tito Sotto and Senator Ping Lacson, has failed to pursue the truth in the flood control probe with the urgency it demands.
The numbers also suggest a fragile balance of power. With an unusually strong minority bloc and a restless majority, just a few defections could upend the leadership. What was once a stable alliance now teeters on collapse.
Cracks in the Coalition: Discontent from Within
The internal rift has burst into the open. Senators once loyal to the majority are now publicly questioning their leaders.
Senator JV Ejercito revealed he had seriously considered breaking away, accusing the majority of “burning down our own house” and forgetting “who the real thieves are.” His remarks underscored a growing sentiment that Senate priorities have shifted from justice to self-preservation.
Even Majority Leader Migz Zubiri, a linchpin of the coalition, has expressed unease. His admission of being “unhappy” with the current direction speaks volumes—when the chief strategist of the majority goes off-script, it signals deep dysfunction.
Observers say both Ejercito’s frustration and Zubiri’s subtle dissent reflect one truth: the Senate’s failure to aggressively pursue its Blue Ribbon Committee probe has eroded its moral credibility.
The Flood Fund Freeze: Anatomy of a Cover-Up
The abrupt suspension of the Senate’s flood control investigation has become the smoking gun for critics. Once fast-moving and relentless under Senator Rodante Marcoleta, the hearings stopped dead after witnesses began implicating individuals linked to powerful political clans—including a Romualdez.
That sudden silence, analysts argue, wasn’t coincidence. It was strategy. A deliberate attempt to shield the so-called mastermind behind the trillion-peso scheme.
Opposition figures claim the decision to halt the hearings was not due to lack of evidence but to protect allies in high places. One commentator lamented, “When the Senate becomes blind, deaf, and mute to corruption, it means the protectors are sitting inside the chamber itself.”
This perceived paralysis, they warn, serves a clear purpose: discourage whistleblowers, exhaust public outrage, and allow the powerful to walk away unscathed.
A War of Words: Deflection and Denial
The political infighting has devolved into a personal battlefield.
A viral photo of Senator Ping Lacson with the controversial Descaya family—contractors linked to the flood fund anomaly—sparked outrage after Congressman Kiko Barzaga insinuated that the senator had ties to those under investigation.
Lacson claimed the Descayas merely “invited him to an event,” but Barzaga dismissed the defense, calling them “close friends.” The timing—during campaign season—only deepened public suspicion.
Lacson’s cryptic social media post soon after—asking for a “veterinarian with a psychiatric ward” for a “barking dog and a crazy cat”—was widely seen as an insult aimed at his critics, including Marcoleta. For many observers, it was an act of cowardice, replacing accountability with mockery.
The Moral Divide: Whose Side Are You On?
The escalating Senate chaos has drawn a clear moral line. As one commentator bluntly put it: “You’re either with the people—or with those who plundered them.”
Neutrality is no longer acceptable. Silence equals complicity. Lawmakers are being forced to choose between defending the powerful or fighting for truth.
For reformists, the possible ascent of Cayetano—or the comeback of Marcoleta—represents the Senate’s last chance to reclaim credibility and dismantle what critics describe as a grand design to protect a trillion-peso crime.
The coming weeks will decide whether this is merely another round of political theater—or the rebirth of a Senate willing to hold even the untouchable accountable. The Filipino public, bruised but watching, waits to see if justice will finally rise above politics.