The First Gate of Judgment: When the House Weighed the Impeachment Complaints Against the Vice President | Raul F. Borjal

Under the 1987 Philippine Constitution, the Vice President remains an impeachable officer regardless of any additional position he or she may hold in the executive branch. Article XI, Section 2 expressly lists the Vice President among the officials who may be removed from office through impeachment for culpable violation of the Constitution, treason, bribery, graft and corruption, other high crimes, or betrayal of public trust.

Impeachment Is Not Limited to Acts Within the Office

The Constitution does not limit impeachment only to acts committed strictly within the formal duties of the impeachable office. What ultimately matters is whether the conduct demonstrates a serious violation of the Constitution or a level of misconduct that renders the official unfit to continue holding a position of public trust.

This principle becomes particularly relevant when a Vice President also serves in the Cabinet.

When a Vice President is appointed to a Cabinet post, such as Secretary of Education, he or she effectively wears two hats: one as a constitutional officer elected by the people, and another as a member of the President’s Cabinet serving at the President’s pleasure. Cabinet secretaries themselves are not impeachable officials and may simply be removed by the President. Yet the Vice President does not lose his or her constitutional status as an impeachable officer merely because he or she holds a Cabinet portfolio.

The office of the Vice President continues to carry constitutional accountability through impeachment.

Cabinet Acts as Possible Grounds for Impeachment

Because of this, acts committed while serving in the Cabinet position may still become the basis of an impeachment complaint if those acts constitute a culpable violation of the Constitution or betrayal of public trust. The logic behind this is straightforward: impeachment is not confined to punishing misconduct within a narrow job description. Rather, it is a mechanism by which the Republic determines whether a high official still deserves to hold public office.

If the official’s conduct, whether as Vice President, Cabinet secretary, or in any official governmental capacity, shows disregard for constitutional limits, abuse of authority, or behavior incompatible with public trust, Congress may treat those acts as evidence of unfitness for continued service as Vice President.

The phrase often heard in public debate, that an official has shown he or she is “no longer deserving of public office,” closely reflects the constitutional ground of betrayal of public trust. During the deliberations of the Constitutional Commission that drafted the 1987 Constitution, this ground was intentionally left broad. It was meant to cover conduct that might not necessarily amount to a criminal offense but nonetheless demonstrates gross abuse of power, serious misconduct, or a profound breach of the public’s confidence in the integrity of government.

Impeachment as Constitutional Judgment

In other words, impeachment is not purely a criminal proceeding. It is fundamentally a constitutional and political judgment about the continued legitimacy of a high official’s tenure.

If the House of Representatives approves articles of impeachment and the Senate, sitting as an impeachment court, later convicts the Vice President, the constitutional penalty is removal from office and possible disqualification from holding public office in the future. The removal applies to the impeachable office itself, the Vice Presidency, because that is the constitutional office subject to impeachment jurisdiction.

Thus, even when the alleged violations arise from actions taken while serving as Secretary of Education, those actions may still be used as grounds for impeachment if they constitute a culpable violation of the Constitution or a betrayal of public trust.

It was against this constitutional framework that the House of Representatives found itself confronting a moment of decision.

The First Threshold

On March 4, 2026, the House Committee on Justice assembled beneath the formal seal of the Republic. Lawmakers entered the chamber carrying thick binders of complaints, affidavits, and legal memoranda. Cameras were already live, transmitting the proceedings to a nation that had grown accustomed to watching its constitutional dramas unfold in real time.

At the center of the inquiry stood Vice President Sara Duterte.

Yet the committee’s task that day was not to determine guilt. Its responsibility was more preliminary, but no less consequential: to determine whether the third and fourth impeachment complaints filed against her were sufficient in substance.

The question before the committee was deceptively simple:

If the allegations are assumed to be true, do they amount to impeachable offenses under the Constitution?

Members understood that this was the first substantive gate in the impeachment process. If the complaints failed here, the matter would end. If they passed, the machinery of constitutional accountability would move forward.

Thus the chamber proceeded with deliberation.

Some lawmakers approached the complaints through strict legal analysis, reviewing documents, timelines, and the logical structure of the accusations. Others reflected on the broader meaning of public office itself.

The debates echoed an ancient insight expressed by Aristotle, who observed that “the law is reason free from passion.” The task of the committee, therefore, was to place emotion and political rivalry aside and examine the accusations through the steady lens of constitutional reason.

Examining the Grounds

Members focused their remarks on the specific grounds alleged in the complaints. They examined whether the acts described, taken as true for purposes of the test, could properly fall within the constitutional categories of culpable violation of the Constitution, graft and corruption, or betrayal of public trust.

Speakers analyzed the allegations one by one, weighing the language of the complaints against the text of the Constitution. Did the conduct described rise to the level of constitutional offense? Or were the accusations, however controversial, matters better left to political debate rather than the solemn process of impeachment?

Others emphasized that the committee’s task at this stage was limited but precise. The members were not determining guilt, nor resolving factual disputes. Their responsibility was to determine whether the complaints adequately alleged acts that, if proven, would constitute impeachable offenses.

In this sense, the committee was performing the very function that constitutional systems expect of such bodies: the sober determination of whether the accusations placed before the Republic meet the threshold required for the impeachment process to proceed.

The Machinery of Procedure

Throughout the hearing, parliamentary rules governed the flow of debate.

Points of order were raised. Clarifications were requested. The chair recognized speakers one by one. Each intervention, each recorded statement, became part of the institutional memory of the House.

To an outside observer, such procedures might appear technical. Yet they form the framework within which the Republic disciplines power.

Beyond the chamber walls, citizens watched the proceedings through livestreams and news reports. The deliberations had become not merely a committee exercise but a national moment of scrutiny.

The Motion and the Vote

As the hours passed, argument gradually yielded to decision.

The committee had examined the allegations, debated the constitutional standards, and listened to one another’s reasoning. Now the process required a vote.

At last, the moment arrived.

A member moved that the third impeachment complaint be declared sufficient in substance. Another quickly seconded the motion. The chair acknowledged it, and the chamber prepared to decide.

There was no long roll call. Instead, the chair called for a vote by a raising of hands.

Hands lifted across the chamber, signalling their judgment. Only a single hand rose in opposition.

When the count was completed, the result was unmistakable: 54 in favor, 1 against.

The motion carried.

The same procedure followed for the fourth complaint. A motion was made and seconded to declare it sufficient in substance. Once again, the chair called for members to signify their vote by raising their hands.

Once again, the chamber answered.

And once again, the tally was overwhelming: 54 to 1 in favor.

The Process Advances

The vote did not determine guilt. It did not decide the ultimate fate of the Vice President.

But it marked a decisive step in the constitutional process.

By declaring the complaints sufficient in substance, the committee affirmed that the allegations—if proven—could constitute impeachable offenses. The matter would therefore proceed to the next stage of scrutiny.

The principle underlying such proceedings had been articulated long ago by the Roman statesman Marcus Tullius Cicero:

“Salus populi suprema lex esto.”

The welfare of the people shall be the supreme law.

An Unfinished Chapter

As the session concluded, the chamber gradually emptied. Microphones were switched off, papers gathered, and lawmakers departed.

Yet the significance of the moment lingered.

Within that committee room, through debate, procedure, and a recorded vote, the House Justice Committee had exercised one of the Republic’s most solemn powers.

Across cultures and centuries, societies have wrestled with the same question: how should a community respond when those who hold authority are called to account? The wisdom of the elders anticipated such moments long before modern constitutions were written.

Among the Igbo of West Africa, an old proverb offers a quiet reflection on the nature of power:

“Oke osisi anaghị ezochi ifufe.”

A great tree cannot hide from the wind.

Those who rise to the highest places inevitably face the winds of scrutiny. Public office lifts a person above the ordinary landscape of civic life, but it also exposes them to the full force of public judgment.

Another Igbo saying reminds communities how such judgment must be rendered:

“A na-ama mmadụ ikpe n’ụlọ ikpe, ọ bụghị n’ama ahịa.”

A person is judged in the court, not in the marketplace.

Debate in the Language of Law

And so it was that day, in the committee chamber, not in the marketplace of rumors or the noise of public quarrel, but within the ordered forum of law and procedure, that the Republic examined the complaints placed before it.

The ancient question of accountability had returned to the modern chamber of a democratic state.

The final verdict still lay somewhere ahead in the long path of institutional judgment.

But on that day, beneath the seal of the House and the watchful attention of the nation, the Republic had taken another step in the enduring work of holding power accountable to law.

The header shows a video image capture when the House of Representatives Justice Committee members, with hands lifted, voted 54 to 1 twice, formally declaring the third and fourth impeachment complaints against the Vice President sufficient in substance. Both complaints contain a recital of facts which, if proven true, could constitute impeachable offenses. (video: Rappler)

About the author

RAUL F. BORJAL, known as “Rolly” to his family and friends, was born in Naga City, Camarines Sur, and now resides in Parañaque City, Metro Manila. An alumnus of both Ateneo de Naga University and Ateneo de Manila University, he held senior executive roles in several domestic and multinational corporations, culminating in his retirement as Vice President and Corporate Secretary of a Filipino-owned group of companies.

He is married to the former Wenifreda D. Parma, a cum laude graduate of Ateneo de Naga University, and together they have four children. Rolly is also a co-founder and a member of the editorial board of Dateline Ibalon.

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