Too Many Good Filipino People, Yet the Wrong Ones are Appointed to Lead and Manage

*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope,

There are moments when I pause—when the headlines feel too familiar, when another incompetent appointee takes oath, when another press release speaks of “change” as if it hasn’t been promised a thousand times before—and I can’t help but ask, quietly but urgently:

Why? Why is it so difficult to find the right people to lead this country?

This question haunts me, not just as a citizen, but as someone who still dares to believe in the power of good governance. We have over 111 million Filipinos. Are you telling me that in this sea of talent, of bright minds and kind hearts, we still end up with officials whose main qualification is proximity to power?

How many times have we heard this? A Cabinet secretary who knows nothing about their department. A bureau chief appointed because of loyalty, not legacy. A government spokesperson consistently distorts facts and disseminates false information while maintaining a professional demeanor. And all of us—tayong mga Pilipino—we watch, we ache, and yet we endure.

It’s exhausting.

And what’s worse is that we’ve become so used to the dysfunction that it no longer shocks us. We’ve been conditioned to expect incompetence, to brace for disappointment. We celebrate mediocrity because we're desperate for even a bit of honesty, a little competence, a little care.

However, I refuse to compromise on standards.

I am weary of maintaining the facade that this situation is acceptable—that public service has become merely a playground for the powerful and a retirement plan for those who are loyal and sycophantic. We, the populace, are compelled to endure the repercussions of their appointments as they slumber comfortably in air-conditioned luxury. However, it is important to recognize that this matter cannot be generalized. Still, we need to look at reality!

What happened to public service being a calling?

What happened to integrity? To vision? What happened to the kind of leadership that listens, makes sacrifices, and understands?

Don’t tell me we don’t have people like that. I’ve met them. I’ve worked with them. Some are teachers who spend their own money so their students can have school supplies. Some are nurses who work overtime without receiving pay. Some are local officials who quietly clean up communities without needing press coverage. Some are scholars, innovators, civil servants, students, retirees—ordinary Filipinos with extraordinary hearts.

But they’re not in Malacañang. They’re not in the Cabinet. They’re not holding the reins of agencies that shape the lives of millions.

And that’s what hurts.

We don’t have a shortage of qualified people. What we have is a crisis of values at the top. People are being chosen not for what they can give to the country but for what they can give to the President, to the KKK (Kamag-anak, Kaibigan, KaNegosyo), and to the powerful.

I’ve read the reform proposals. The frameworks. The roadmaps presented were idealistic in nature. I came across and read scholastic papers on structural reforms, mindset shifts, better leadership, and citizen participation. All noble. All true. But I’ve come to understand something simple and painful:

You cannot repair a broken system with people around you who are also broken.

And you cannot ask the nation to trust again if you continue to insult us with names we did not choose, with leaders we did not deserve, and with decisions made behind closed doors in rooms we cannot enter.

We are told to wait. To understand. We are advised to exercise patience.

But we’ve waited for decades. We’ve understood far too much. And our patience is bleeding into resignation.

Still… I would rather not give up.

Giving up would allow them to emerge victorious. The corrupt, the incompetent, the manipulative, and the indifferent thrive. They thrive when good people grow tired. They succeed when our anger turns into silence.

So maybe this reflection is also a cry—for courage. We must persistently inquire, insist, and maintain our conviction that the appropriate individuals exist—and they merit an opportunity to contribute.

Perhaps it is time for us to shift our focus from solely examining those at the highest levels and begin fostering growth from the grassroots. Maybe we empower the young leaders, the teachers, the health workers, the reformists, and the quiet warriors who serve with integrity even when no one is watching.

And maybe—just maybe—one day soon, the President, or the next one, will look beyond political debts and start choosing with wisdom. With conscience. We possess an understanding of the past.

We don't demand perfection. We’re just asking for leaders who won’t betray the country they’ve sworn to serve.

As for me, a hopeless hopeful hoping for hope, I write. I speak. I stand.

Because our nation deserves voices, not whispers. Action, not apathy. Truth, not silence.

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*About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission

When Law Meets Emotion: Understanding the One-Year Impeachment Ban Against VP Sara Duterte

By Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope

There is a quiet tension in the air. This is the kind of tension you feel when people seek answers, but the system responds, "Not now." Many Filipinos are still asking across social media, on TV panels, and in cafes and sari-sari stores, “Why was the impeachment case against Vice President Sara Duterte thrown out? "Why wasn’t she made to face the Senate?” These questions come from a place of deep concern, and I respect them.

In fact, I begin this reflection by saying: I fully sympathize with the millions of Filipinos who believe that Vice President Sara Duterte should have had her day in the Senate to respond to the serious accusations filed against her—allegations of misused intelligence funds, unexplained assets, even links to extrajudicial killings and open political defiance toward the President and House leadership. These are no small matters. These accusations strike deeply at the foundation of public trust.

And if you ask me, I too want these questions answered.

But here is the uncomfortable truth: Wanting something—even justice—doesn’t provide us the right to break the very rules that make justice possible.

The Constitution Is Not Optional

Our emotions may be loud, but the Constitution is louder. The 1987 Philippine Constitution clearly states in Article XI, Section 3, Paragraph 5:

“No impeachment proceedings shall be initiated against the same official more than once within a period of one year.”

That’s not a suggestion. It’s not flexible. It’s binding law. It applies to everyone—even to those we want to see tried, even to those whose guilt we suspect, and even to those we politically oppose.

So when the Supreme Court ruled last July 25, 2025, that the impeachment case against VP Sara was unconstitutional because it violated that one-year ban, the Court wasn’t protecting her as a person—it was protecting the Constitution as a principle. And that’s something we all must defend, even when it disappoints us.

It’s Okay to Feel Frustrated—But It’s Not Okay to Ignore the Law

Let’s be honest. It’s deeply frustrating. It feels like the public was robbed of the chance to hear the truth. After all, what better stage is there than the Senate, where all evidence can be laid bare?

Many people are asking, “Why not let her speak? Why not clear her name or validate our deepest fears? The answer is simple but painful: we can’t just bypass the Constitution because we’re emotionally or politically ready for a verdict.

The law says one impeachment attempt per year. That’s it. No workarounds. No shortcuts. And the fourth complaint filed by the House fell within that one-year period.

You can argue about its fairness, yes. But you can’t say it’s unconstitutional to obey the Constitution.

Sympathy Must Walk Hand in Hand with Discipline

Let me be clear: Feeling sympathy for those who seek justice is not the same as endorsing constitutional shortcuts. In fact, the truest form of public service is the ability to say, “Yes, I hear you. Yes, your concern is valid. But we must wait—not because we want to protect the powerful, but because we must protect the process.”

If you rush a legal proceeding, you provide its results a shaky foundation. And that’s the real danger: when process is ignored, truth becomes vulnerable to revision, manipulation, and rejection. Let us not forget that.

Could the Senate Have Helped?

Now let’s discuss a moment that could have changed everything: February 2025.

Many people hoped the Senate would convene as an impeachment court during that time. Some believed it would finally offer VP Sara Duterte the platform to explain herself—to present her evidence and perhaps even clear her name.

But the Senate didn’t convene.

Senate President Francis Escudero cited legal limitations. The House had transmitted the articles of impeachment, yes—but Congress was not in session. And according to procedure, only during regular or special sessions can the Senate try an impeached official. That meant waiting until the regular session in June. And by that time, the one-year ban had already been triggered, giving the Supreme Court firm grounds to halt the trial.

Frustrating? Yes. Is it also a legal matter? Absolutely.

This Was Never Just About the Truth—It Was About 2028

There's a growing consensus that this impeachment case may have been less about truth and more about 2028.

Let's acknowledge that we don't exist in isolation. VP Sara Duterte is widely considered a strong contender in the 2028 presidential elections. Her political influence, especially in Mindanao and among pro-Duterte circles, is undeniable. Taking her down now—through a conviction that would disqualify her from holding office forever—would have dramatically reshaped the battlefield.

Was this impeachment timed and fueled not just by evidence, but also by political fear?

Possibly.

And this is why the Constitution must stand. It’s the firewall that prevents political warfare from disguising itself as a judicial process. When impeachment is weaponized as an electoral strategy, democracy loses—not because truth is denied, but because justice is used for politics.

What Now? Is All Hope Lost?

There is still hope. The Constitution merely states, "Not now."

The one-year ban lifts by February 2026. If the evidence is strong, and if public clamor remains, a new impeachment complaint can be filed then—lawfully and constitutionally. If VP Sara Duterte truly has something to hide, she will have her reckoning. If not, she will have her vindication.

Until then, there are other venues for scrutiny. Investigative journalism. Congressional inquiries. Citizen vigilance. Transparency laws. The fight for accountability never ends—it just shifts form.

But let’s fight clean.

To Those Still Angry: I See You

I know some of you reading this still feel cheated. You’re frustrated. You wanted to see VP Sara grilled. You were eager to hear her testimony under oath. Maybe you’re convinced she’s guilty. Or maybe, like others, you just want things to be fair, open, and complete.

Your anger isn't wrong. But don’t let that anger push you into ignoring the very Constitution that protects us all.

What happens when we allow emotions to override rules? What happens when we say, “Let’s just go ahead anyway”? We risk creating a country where rules are optional—where today’s opponent becomes tomorrow’s victim.

We must be better than that. We must be principled even when it’s inconvenient. This is the challenging reality of genuine democracy.

In Closing: Principles Over Politics

The impeachment case against Vice President Sara Duterte was never solely about her; it served as a test of our values. Should we allow political storms to blow us off course? Or do we steadfastly adhere to the Constitution, regardless of the consequences?

Some may call this issue a legal technicality. But it’s not. It’s the bedrock of democratic accountability.

Yes, we sympathize with those who wanted to see this process through. Yes, we understand the frustration. However, the Constitution holds more weight than our emotions, and we must pay attention to it.

Ultimately, justice encompasses more than just the identity of the accused. It’s also about how we choose to seek the truth.

Let’s not compromise that.

Not now. Not ever.

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*About the author:
Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission

Dismantle or Reinvent? Why ADORE, Not Abolition, Is the Smarter War on Drugs

By: Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
Author of the ADORE Program and the 8 E’s Framework on Anti-Illegal Drug Strategy

 

I was once inside a barangay multipurpose hall in Barangay Fortune, Marikina City, speaking to a room full of former drug dependents and their families from the nearby areas of Marikina City, Antipolo City, and San Mateo, Rizal. They weren’t perfect. Many of them bore the stigma of their past, the judgment of society, and the uncertainty of tomorrow. But they were trying. They were hoping. They were choosing to rebuild their lives—not with bullets, not with fear, but with help, healing, and honest work.

That moment made me think deeply about where our nation is heading in our long-standing war on drugs.

Just recently, Senator Tito Sotto floated the idea of abolishing the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA) as well as the Dangerous Drugs Board (DDB) to create a new “Presidential Drug Enforcement Authority.” Although the proposal appears to be a reform on paper, it feels more like a drastic move that could cause more harm than good.

And so, I ask: Do we need to abolish PDEA? Or do we need to make it work better, smarter, and more humanely?

Reform, Not Ruin

Let me be candid—PDEA is not perfect. It has its fair share of internal lapses, inefficiencies, and corruption cases. But what government institution doesn’t?

Abolishing PDEA won’t magically solve these problems. It will, however, destabilize the current structure, erase institutional memory, and scatter the already limited manpower, logistics, and intelligence framework across another yet-to-be-established bureaucracy. The process will take years. During those years, our communities, particularly the poorest, will bear the brunt of an unrelenting drug network.

What we need isn’t demolition. What we need is strategic reinvention, people-centered reform, and an intelligent, systems-based approach.

That is precisely why I developed the ADORE Program in 2022, which was launched by then PNP Chief General Dionardo Carlos on March 14, 2022, in the direction of creating a national inter-agency task force—Anti-Illegal Drug Operations Through Reinforcement and Education—grounded on the 8 E’s Framework I authored. ADORE is more than just a program. It represents a philosophy rooted in a profound social ideology. A paradigm shift. A bridge between law enforcement and community empowerment.

The 8 E’s Framework: A Systematic Solution

The ADORE Program isn’t about slogans or slogans disguised as action. It is built on eight interlinked stages, each beginning with the letter “E”—designed to guide our anti-drug operations from reactive enforcement to proactive prevention and sustainable rehabilitation. In the 2024 State of the Nation Address of President Bongbong, the 8E's as a framework were mentioned in his speech as the focal point for addressing illegal drugs in the country.

1. Engineering – First, we need to re-engineer the way we think about the drug problem. Understand the roots. Assess the systems. Design smarter interventions.

2. Education – Awareness is the first line of defense. We must integrate drug prevention education in schools, barangays, and even in families.

3. Extraction of Information – Intelligence gathering must be systematic, grounded in trust between law enforcers and the communities they serve.

4. Enforcement of Laws – Enforcement must be firm but fair. It must uphold human rights and ensure transparency and accountability.

5. Enactment of Laws – The laws must evolve with the times. Legislation should be responsive, inclusive, and community-informed.

6. Environment – Rehabilitating not just people, but also their communities—physically, emotionally, and socially.

7. Economics – Addressing poverty is a core anti-drug strategy. We must provide jobs, livelihoods, and economic alternatives to those drawn into the drug trade out of desperation.

8. Evaluation – Everything must be monitored and measured. Data must drive policy and practice. Success must be defined not by arrests, but by changed lives.

This framework creates an ecosystem of healing, security, education, and empowerment.

Why Abolishing PDEA is a Misstep

Despite the good intentions and footnotes behind Senator Sotto's proposal to scrap PDEA, it runs the risk of worsening the problem. What happens to the trained agents? Do the intelligence databases remain intact? What happens to the community partnerships that have been established over time?

PDEA, as an institution, already possesses the operational backbone needed for an effective national anti-drug campaign. What it lacks is proper direction, reform, and system-based thinking—something that the 8 E’s Framework of ADORE offers.

If the house is leaking, do you burn it down? Or do you find the leak and fix it with stronger materials and better planning?

The Moral Soul of ADORE: Human Rights

ADORE stands firm on one non-negotiable principle: the sanctity of human life and dignity.

The drug war has claimed too many lives. Some were criminals. But many were merely suspects, some were victims of mistaken identity, and others were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My approach through ADORE is different. I believe that rehabilitation, reintegration, and redemption are not weaknesses—they are strengths. Human rights are not obstacles to law enforcement—they are its compass.

Let us be clear: the enemy is not the addict. The enemy is the system that lets addiction thrive, the poverty that makes drug pushing a career option, and the corruption that allows drug syndicates to operate with impunity.

Eliminate the Misfits, Not the Mission

Another critical element of ADORE is my strong advocacy to remove misfits in uniform. If officers who sell protection, plant evidence, or kill for convenience infiltrate our ranks, we cannot win the war on drugs.

Reform must begin from within. PDEA, PNP, and all allied agencies must undergo moral and operational cleansing. With ADORE’s Evaluation and Engineering components, we have the tools to build a culture of integrity.

A Presidential Inter-Agency Task Force Based on ADORE

Rather than replace PDEA, I propose the creation of a Presidential Inter-Agency Task Force on Anti-Illegal Drugs, anchored on the ADORE Framework. This task force would bring together PDEA, PNP, NBI, NICA, PCG, AFP, DOH, DepEd, DILG, DSWD, TESDA, DTI, other government agencies, and local government units to work synergistically toward a common goal.

By uniting under one coherent system—the 8 E’s—we avoid redundancy and eliminate turf wars and jurisdictional conflicts and ensure that every peso spent yields measurable, lasting results.

What the People Truly Need

Filipinos don’t need a new name or agency to give them hope. What they need is honest leadership, strategic action, and visible, sustainable results. They need to see drug users rehabilitated, families reunited, and barangays transformed into safe, nurturing spaces.

They want programs that work, not press releases that fade.

Through ADORE, we give our people a way out—not just a way in to jail cells or, worse, funeral parlors.

ADORE Is More Than a Framework—It Is a Commitment

As the author of the ADORE Program and its 8 E’s Framework, I offer it not as a miracle cure, but as a tested, people-centered strategy grounded in my experience in research, public service, education, and law enforcement.

This isn’t just a proposal. It’s a lifelong commitment to national transformation. And I share this not from a desk in a corporate boardroom, but from years of working with police officers, barangay leaders, youth organizations, public schools, and victims of this long-standing social illness.

In Conclusion: Let’s Build, Not Burn

Let’s not confuse change with chaos. Let’s not tear down what can be repaired and improved. Instead of treating the war on drugs as a political game, we should approach it as the humanitarian crisis it truly is.

The answer is not in abolishing institutions but in reinventing them from within—with heart, with system, and with soul.

Let us not destroy the house of PDEA. Let us renovate it—with the blueprint of ADORE and the engineering of the 8 E’s.

Only then can we say we fought the war the right way—and won not just battles, but lives back.

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*About the author:
Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission

When Justice Meets Politics: Lessons from Corona’s Trial and Sara Duterte’s Impeachment Battle

 *Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD

 

I. A Nation on Trial—Then and Now

I still remember the day Renato Corona took the stand. I even wrote a blog about my reflection on the trial entitled “Force to Resign or Impeach.” The Senate was full, the TV was on in nearly every Filipino home, and people were discussing the Constitution over coffee for the first time in years. Corona, the Chief Justice of the land, was being impeached—live, raw, and historic. In 2012, we were observing the full manifestation of democracy. But it wasn’t just about the trial. The clash between power and principle shaped our identity as a people.

In 2025, the country finds itself engulfed in yet another constitutional crisis. Vice President Sara Duterte finds herself at the center of this constitutional crisis. Complaints have been filed. Questions about confidential funds, political overreach, and misuse of power fill the headlines. But just as quickly as the storm gathered, the Supreme Court stepped in with a ruling: No more impeachment cases for the VP this year. The reason? The Constitution is clear—only one impeachment proceeding per official per year.

The ruling caused significant ripples. While some felt vindicated, others expressed disapproval. But as someone who has lived through both moments—Corona’s downfall and Duterte’s legal shield—I believe it’s time we ask the more profound question: What are we really learning as a nation from all this?

 

II. Lesson One: The Law Must Always Come First

During Corona’s trial, many believed he was being targeted for political reasons—especially with his ties to then-President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo and his involvement in the Hacienda Luisita decision. However, the crucial point was that he neglected to reveal millions in his SALN. That wasn’t hearsay. It was a constitutional violation. So, regardless of his politics, he was removed.

That trial taught us something painful but powerful: The Constitution should matter more than the person.

With Vice President Duterte, the story is more complex. Multiple complaints were filed, but in July 2025, the Supreme Court reminded everyone of a simple truth: Only one impeachment case can proceed per year against the same official. That rule wasn’t made to protect the powerful—it was designed to protect the process from being abused.

Even if you believe Sara Duterte should respond to more allegations, we must adhere to the legal process. Otherwise, we risk turning impeachment into a circus, not a safeguard.

 

III. Lesson Two: It’s Not About Noise—It’s About Proof

I won’t forget how messy the Corona prosecution team was at the beginning. They had media backing, but their case was riddled with unverified documents, confusing testimonies, and emotional arguments. If the defense hadn’t stumbled in key areas, the outcome might have been different. They eventually won—but barely.

Now, with Duterte’s case, we’re seeing something similar. Complaints were filed rapidly, some overlapping, some rushed. Despite the sincere intention, the case could not stand without solid evidence and appropriate legal framing.

So here’s the lesson: Impeachment is not a popularity contest. It’s a legal battle. And if we want justice, we need to fight with precision—not passion alone.

 

IV. Lesson Three: Watchdogs Still Matter

When Corona was on trial, people were glued to their TVs. Senate sessions were broadcast live, and for the first time, civic organizations, lawyers, and even tricycle drivers were dissecting legal arguments. The trial didn’t just put a man on the stand—it educated a nation.

In 2025, it’s different. Social media has taken over, and with it comes noise—lots of it. Misinformation rapidly disseminates, trolls stifle legitimate inquiries, and political spin obscures the truth. Still, watchdogs like the IBP, the UP Law Center, and some brave journalists have stepped up to explain the Supreme Court ruling and clarify what’s at stake.

We need them. Institutions alone cannot sustain democracy; citizen vigilance is essential.

 

V. Lesson Four: An Impeachment Trial Isn’t the Finish Line

After Corona was removed, many believed the judiciary would be instantly cleaner and the political system magically more honest. That didn’t happen. SALN compliance saw a brief improvement, but did systemic reform occur? Not really.

Now, in Duterte’s case, even though her impeachment has been halted, we must ask: what happens next? Do we go back to silence? Or do we push for changes in how confidential funds are audited? Shouldn’t this event be the moment we talk seriously about transparency in executive spending?

Regardless of the outcome, the impeachment process should instigate long-term reform, not just temporary noise.

 

VI. Lesson Five: Power Will Always Try to Influence Justice

One thing that worried people during Corona’s trial was the apparent pressure from then-President Noynoy Aquino’s camp. Many believed the executive branch wanted Corona out to ensure the Aquino administration’s legislative agenda—including the handling of Hacienda Luisita—would go unchallenged.

Today, the concern is reversed. The Duterte family, after all, appointed several justices in the Supreme Court. So when the Court ruled that no further impeachment complaints could proceed this year against the VP, some people cried foul. They asked, “Is the judiciary still independent?”

To be clear, the Supreme Court was technically right. The Constitution does say what it says. But public trust isn’t just built on legality—it’s built on perception. If people believe the system is rigged, then even a correct decision feels unjust.

So what’s the lesson? Power must always be watched. Closely. No matter who wields it.

 

VII. Final Reflection: Our Role as Citizens

At the heart of both the Corona and Duterte impeachments is one truth: This isn’t just about them. It’s about us.

It’s about how much we care about due process. About how well we know our Constitution. About whether we’re willing to hold power accountable without bias. About whether we’ll stand for justice even when it’s inconvenient.

The Supreme Court’s ruling may have put a pause on the Duterte impeachment for now, but that doesn’t mean the conversation is over. In fact, it should only be beginning. If there’s wrongdoing, let’s gather facts—not Facebook posts. Let’s prepare airtight cases—not viral hashtags. Let’s build institutions that don’t need heroes—just laws that are obeyed.

Because at the end of the day, whether we’re talking about a Chief Justice or a Vice President, it’s not about who sits in power—it’s about what kind of country we want to be.

 

References:

• Supreme Court of the Philippines. (2025, July 15). G.R. No. 267891: Decision on Impeachment Complaints Against Vice President Sara Duterte. https://sc.judiciary.gov.ph

• La Viña, T. L. (2012). 8 Lessons from the Corona impeachment trial. https://tonylavina.wordpress.com

• Pangalangan, P. C. (2012). Corona’s impeachment and the judicial-political crossroads. Philippine Law Journal, 86(1), 1–12.

• Rappler. (2012). Corona found guilty by the Senate. https://www.rappler.com

• BenarNews. (2025). Calls for Duterte’s impeachment ignite political firestorm. https://www.benarnews.org

• Tribune. (2025). Sara Duterte impeachment: Was it rushed? https://tribune.net.ph

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*About the author:
Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission