*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM
I remember reading a news story about a solemn moment inside a military academy, where silence carried a different weight—one not of fear, but of consequence. A cadet stood before the Board of Discipline, accused of cheating during examinations. His uniform was still pressed, his posture still firm, but his eyes betrayed the gravity of what was unfolding. Around him sat officers and academy officials, not all of them lawyers, yet all entrusted with the honor, discipline, and moral foundation of the institution. They listened carefully, reviewed the evidence, and weighed not only the act itself but what it meant for the values the academy stood for. The question before them was not simply whether a rule had been broken, but whether the cadet had violated the very code of integrity that defined the profession of arms. And when the decision came—to dismiss the cadet—it was not seen as a failure of legal procedure, but as a fulfillment of duty. No one asked if the Board members had passed the bar. What mattered was their judgment, their experience, and their unwavering commitment to uphold the institution’s honor. In that moment, authority did not come from licensure, but from responsibility. And in many ways, when the Senate convenes as an impeachment court, the entire nation stands in that same chamber, where the question is no longer about a cadet, but about the integrity of those entrusted with power.
The 1987 Philippine Constitution, in its quiet wisdom, vests in the Senate the sole power to try and decide impeachment cases. It does so without demanding that those who will sit in judgment be lawyers. That silence is not an oversight. It is a constitutional statement. It reflects an understanding by the framers that there are moments in governance when the question is not merely what the law says, but what justice requires. When the Constitution speaks of the Supreme Court of the Philippines, it requires legal mastery, experience, and professional discipline. But when it entrusts impeachment to the Senate, it shifts the ground. It recognizes that accountability in a republic cannot be confined to legal technicalities alone, but must be entrusted to those who carry the mandate of the people (Bernas, 2009).
There will always be the legal purist who insists that only those who have passed the bar possess the authority to interpret the Constitution, especially when the charge involves something as serious as a culpable violation of the Constitution. That view, while rooted in respect for legal training, sees only one dimension of a much larger reality. In the setting of impeachment, constitutional interpretation is never purely legal. It does not exist in a vacuum of statutes and jurisprudence. It lives in the intersection of law and life, where rules meet consequences, where text meets context, and where decisions affect the very soul of the nation. The determination of a culpable violation is not a simple exercise of reading provisions. It requires a judgment of intent, of willfulness, of the gravity of an act and its impact on constitutional order. It requires not just knowledge, but discernment. Not just logic, but wisdom (De Leon, 2010).
To say that lawyers alone can interpret the Constitution is to ignore a deeper truth. Even within courts, interpretation is not singular. Justices disagree. They dissent. They evolve doctrines over time. If those trained in law cannot produce a single, uncontested meaning, then it follows that constitutional interpretation is not owned by any profession. It is a shared responsibility, exercised by those entrusted with authority. In impeachment, Senators are not mere observers of legal argument. They are active interpreters. They listen to the law, but they also listen to the silence between its words. They examine not only compliance, but intent. They measure not only acts, but consequences. They ask whether a violation was deliberate, whether it struck at the core of constitutional governance, whether it eroded the trust that binds the people to their leaders. These are not questions that can be answered by technical expertise alone. They require the kind of judgment that is forged in experience, in governance, in the long and often difficult work of public service (Cruz, 2014).
There is a quiet truth that often goes unspoken, that no amount of bar licensure can substitute for the lived experience of those who have spent decades confronting the realities of national accountability. Senators sit through hearings that expose the depths of corruption. They listen to testimonies that reveal the human cost of failed leadership. They navigate the tension between power and responsibility in ways that no classroom can fully teach. Consider Senate PresidentVicente Sotto III, whose service in the Senate since 1992 has allowed him to witness and participate in the unfolding narrative of governance in the Philippines. He has sat as a Senator-judge in impeachment proceedings. He has presided over hearings where legality, ethics, and public trust collide. Through decades of service, he has weighed evidence, examined conduct, and confronted the complexities of accountability. His experience reflects a depth of constitutional engagement that cannot be measured by a bar certificate alone. It is in these accumulated years, in the long arc of public duty, that judgment matures, that understanding deepens, that the Constitution becomes not just a document, but a lived commitment. His example affirms a simple but powerful truth, that no license can replace the wisdom earned through sustained service to the nation.
It is within this understanding that the doctrine of Integritocracy finds its most compelling application. As articulated in Integritocracy: Ethics Above Ideology in Political Power System (Teope, 2026), governance must be anchored not merely on ideology or technical qualifications, but on integrity as the highest organizing principle of political power. In this framework, ethics is not an accessory to governance. It is its foundation. Leadership is measured not by titles, but by the ability to act consistently in the public interest, to uphold truth even under pressure, and to exercise power with moral discipline. In the context of impeachment, this doctrine reminds us that the ultimate question is not simply whether a law has been violated, but whether integrity has been preserved or betrayed.
Seen through this lens, the impeachment court becomes more than a forum of legal adjudication. It becomes a moral arena. The Senate does not merely interpret constitutional provisions. It evaluates whether those entrusted with power have remained faithful to the ethical standards that justify their authority. The task of determining a culpable violation, or any impeachable offense, therefore transcends legalism. It demands a synthesis of law, ethics, wisdom, and lived experience. It affirms that the authority to judge belongs not to a professional class, but to those who can uphold integrity as the highest standard of governance.
And what of the presiding officer, the one tasked to guide the proceedings, to maintain order amid complexity and contention. Must that person be a lawyer to ensure clarity and direction. The Constitution does not say so, and perhaps it does not need to. The role of the presiding officer is not to decide guilt alone, but to ensure that the process remains orderly, fair, and dignified. It is a role that demands leadership more than licensure, clarity more than citation, steadiness more than specialization. A non-lawyer presiding officer, grounded in experience and guided by integrity, can lead the impeachment court with competence and purpose. Supported by institutional rules, legal counsels, and procedural frameworks, the presiding officer becomes a steward of process, ensuring that justice is not only pursued, but properly conducted.
Even beyond our shores, in the United States Senate, the same principle holds. Senators, many of whom are not lawyers, have stood in judgment of presidents and high officials, deciding questions that have shaped history. Their authority has never been questioned on the basis of profession, because it is understood that the legitimacy of impeachment flows not from specialization, but from representation. Not from the bar, but from the ballot (Gerhardt, 2018).
In contemporary discussions involving Sara Duterte, where allegations have been framed under culpable violation of the Constitution, graft and corruption, and betrayal of public trust, the question of who is qualified to decide becomes more than theoretical. It becomes a question that touches the very core of democratic governance. These grounds are not mere legal categories. They are reflections of the standards we expect from those who lead us. To evaluate them is to engage not only with law, but with the meaning of public trust itself.
And so the answer becomes clear, not as a technical conclusion, but as a deeper realization. Yes, non-lawyer Senators have the authority to decide on these matters, because the Constitution has entrusted them with that responsibility. Yes, a non-lawyer presiding officer can manage the impeachment court effectively, because leadership, clarity, and integrity are not confined to any profession. And yes, in moments like impeachment, what the nation needs is not merely the precision of legal expertise, but the depth of human judgment, the courage to decide, and the integrity to stand by that decision.
In the end, impeachment is not just about law. It is about trust. It is about whether power has been used faithfully or abused. It is about whether the Republic still believes in the principles it has written into its Constitution. And in that defining moment, what matters most is not the title before one’s name, but the truth within one’s judgment.
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References
Bernas, J. G. (2009). The 1987 Constitution of the Republic of the Philippines: A commentary. Rex Book Store.
Cruz, I. D. (2014). Philippine political law. Central Book Supply.
De Leon, H. S. (2010). Textbook on the Philippine Constitution. Rex Book Store.
Gerhardt, M. J. (2018). Impeachment: What everyone needs to know. Oxford University Press.
Teope, R. J. O. (2026). Integritocracy: Ethics above ideology in political power system. Universidad de Episcopalia. https://episcopalia-edu.online/f/integritocracy-ethics-above-ideology-in-political-power-system
1987 Philippine Constitution. (1987). Republic of the Philippines.
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