The anaconda strategy

It was in early November 2025, when Ombudsman Jesus Crispin Remulla disclosed that the former Senate President Francis “Chiz” Escudero and former Speaker Martin Romualdez were both undergoing investigation (as our paper reported), “for directly facilitating or for turning a blind eye to corruption-tainted flood control and other infrastructure projects in the past several years.” Fast forward to earlier this month, when the Ombudsman then announced that plunder raps against both Escudero and Romualdez were set in May; the latest installment being reported in the Sunday papers: an asset freeze order had been issued against the former Speaker, while a hold departure order had been issued against the former Senate president.

Here is the difference between legal time and political time. Something had to be said—dramatic, categorical, but still to come—early on, because the public temperature had reached a dangerous high. The ultimate question being asked back then, after all the revelations that not only sickened but also angered the public, was: how high and wide were the authorities prepared to go, to get to the bottom of the scandal? President Marcos, to be sure, hadn’t only brought the case before the public, but it was widely understood that the revelations that followed, one after the other, in the wake of his 2025 State of the Nation Address (Sona), had his approval as far as disclosures were concerned. The Palace had signaled how far it was prepared to go by throwing the Cabinet members closest to the scandal overboard rather quickly—preceded, in case anyone’s forgotten, with formal and informal signs of displeasure or at least discomfort, with the appetite of legislators for projects, dating back to the 2024 Sona.

So when the Ombudsman set himself apart from his predecessor by first insisting that a new, more win-oriented approach to the actual filing of cases would reign supreme, and second, by taking an aggressively prosecutorial tone from the start, he had to put his neck on the line, so to speak, by declaring who was on his order of battle. His decision to name names worked, to a certain extent; it limited grumbling to impatient follow-ups rather than the more corrosive speculation that would have surrounded silence on that score.

But if cases were to stick and thus have a chance at being successfully prosecuted, the gathering of evidence would take time. The dramatic thus bought time for the serious and substantial to take place. The ex-Speaker, for his part, in his recent presser didn’t put forward anything new: Deputy Speaker Ronaldo Puno months ago already put forward the Speaker’s Bart Simpson defense (“I didn’t do it, nobody saw me do it, you can’t prove anything”) which may actually be as politically convenient as it was operationally true: Former Ako Bicol party list Rep. Zaldy Co and Escudero did it. While for his part, the President can rely on invoking the principle of regularity: that it was safe for him to assume his alter egos were doing their jobs according to law.

If the difference between political and legal time is what the past few months have taught us about “floodgate,” then last week’s developments in the parallel tale of Vice President Sara Duterte’s impeachment reveal the full scale and scope of what can only be called the anaconda strategy of her foes. This was the name of the strategy devised by the Lincoln administration to defeat the rebel Confederacy by slowly strangling it through the relentless application of pressure on all fronts. We have seen it play out through the systematic denial of public funds, the quiet but thorough purging (or courtship) of allies in the bureaucracy and elected government, and the denial of political oxygen—by refusing to engage in fights on the Veep’s terms—she needs.

And now? Her father’s prospects are surely confined to facing a trial. Her senatorial support is being chipped away by flight (Sen. Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa) or looming detention (Escudero). Her legal defense, so far, is failing to impress. What, then, is left for the Veep (whose ratings continue to decline) to do? As MindaNews pointedly put it, referring to her 16 lawyers, the only thing they seem capable of doing is “Maghinambog usa aron madako ang pusta” (“Boasting just to raise the stakes”).

The weakness of those who flourish in the shadows is that shining light, however limited, on their doings is often damning; the vulnerability of those who use intimidation as a means to bluff critics into submission is that when the intimidation stops working, they haven’t a clue how to respond when their own bluff is called.

Meanwhile, the anaconda plan keeps applying pressure. Anywhere and everywhere with a single point of convergence, the Veep: because it is here, in an impeachment, that political and legal time converge. While an impeachment trial is a political process since only public office is at stake, the methods and procedures of the law are heavily relied upon to give focus, and an element of justice to the proceedings. And its conclusions affect not just the political fate of the impeached, but in case of conviction, open up the strong possibility of prosecution before the courts.