It looked like Senator Koko Pimentel’s grip on parliamentary procedures is about as firm as a wet spaghetti. He was supposed to be the captain of that motu proprio inquiry, steering his Senate subcommittee with authority and grace. Instead, it was as if we were watching a jeepney driver who lost his way, circling and honking but getting nowhere.
Enter ex-president Rodrigo Duterte, strolling into the room like a guest of honor at his high school reunion and grabbing the mic, while Koko rolls out the red carpet.
We watched a Senate hearing that looked more like an open mic night than a formal inquiry, with Duterte taking over and most senators just there nodding along like they’re the biggest fans in the room. I swear, Robert’s Rules of Order were somewhere in the afterlife, chain-smoking in disbelief.
Now, any halfway decent presiding officer knows the drill: Nobody speaks unless they’re recognized by the chair. Ask any Jaycee and be referred to chapter one in the Parliamentary Procedures for Dummies.
Senator Risa Hontiveros tried to bring a little order back, pointing out that Duterte was neither the president nor mayor when he faced the Senate. He was just a “guest” that day — meaning he was supposed to sit quietly and wait for his turn like everybody else.
But not Duterte. He was given the floor, and he took the whole damn building with it. He was off-topic, throwing out lines that only his bootlickers find funny, cussing, bullying, and pounding the table so hard. The whole time, Koko, the presiding officer, sat there as if he were watching a fireworks show, probably thinking, “Wow, ang galing mo, idol!”
And the double standard? Let’s just say it was a triple standard with a side of extra privilege. It wasn’t just double — it was a Filipino fiesta-level special treatment. Duterte behaved like he was still the boss. He made a mess of things, and everyone else was like tiptoeing around him except for Hontiveros, the only one who seemed to remember they’re supposed to be senators, not Duterte’s barkada.
Senators forgot they were in the Senate, or maybe they remembered but just didn’t care. Either way, Duterte looked way too comfortable, and the Senate looked less like a serious institution and more like his old tambayan.
Rules of order
A few Jaycee senators from Cagayan de Oro, Koko’s hometown, watched his performance at that hearing and felt, well, let down.
You see, the Jaycees treat Robert’s Rules of Order like holy scripture — these folks are all about discipline when it comes to meetings. Try walking into one of the Jaycee meetings, and it’s synchronized swimming for policy wonks. Every hand raise, every nod, right on cue. And don’t even think about speaking out of turn unless you’re ready to be shut down faster than a Wi-Fi signal in a basement. If you want to make a motion, get ready to defend it like it’s a murder trial because the Jaycees don’t mess around with order. (I know this because, once upon a time, I was an Oro Jaycee.)
I asked Tito Mora, a Jaycee senator, what he thought of Koko’s handling. His reply? “Magaling mag-opening statement (He’s good at making opening statements).”
Then his gloves came off. “He wasn’t presiding at all,” Tito said. “He wouldn’t let speakers finish, allowed interruptions everywhere — that’s basic for presiding.”
Jaycee senator Bobby Cabrera chimed in, saying Koko was “too lenient,” letting Duterte rant and cuss like it was a family reunion. Another, Ed Montalvan, added he was saddened to see Koko so indecisive.
Ed and Bobby, however, noted that Koko’s leniency had one perk: it let Duterte dig his own hole by volunteering information that could be used, legally, against him.
Frame-up or fumble?
Now, Koko and Duterte aren’t exactly best pals these days. Sure, they were tight back in 2016 — Koko let Duterte’s presidential campaign ride his father Nene’s Partido Demokratiko Pilipino (PDP). For that, Koko became Senate president from July 2016 to May 2018.
Things, however, went sour when Duterte’s group hijacked the PDP, and tossed Koko and his group out of his own political party. Imagine being thrown out of a party your own father built — now that’s an irony. To this day, the fight over the party’s leadership is still tangled up in the Supreme Court (SC).
Then it hit me — it could be the lawyer in Koko. What if he did that on purpose?
Consider these: the guy topped the Bar exams in 1990. He used to teach or still teaches law occasionally. This isn’t some rookie senator; he’s a Senate vet, stepping down next year with all the experience to boot. Heck, he was even Senate president, which means he should know parliamentary rules better than his own family tree.
So, what if Koko decided to play the part of the clueless, spineless presiding officer on purpose? You know, make himself look like he has the backbone of a banana peel, just to get Duterte comfy — too comfy, and just enough for the old man to let his guard down and start talking so fast even his brain couldn’t keep up with his mouth.
Manny Jaudian, the secretary-general of the PDP-Pimentel wing, straight up asked Koko, “Why did you let yourself look like that, letting Duterte run the show?” And Koko, according to Manny, just responded, “But he made some admissions, didn’t he?”
Sure, Duterte got a few laughs and scored political points with his showboating, but in the process, he volunteered some juicy, self-incriminating tidbits about his bloody war on drugs, which was probably what Koko, the lawyer in him, was really after.
So, was Koko clueless or a master strategist? It’s hard to say. But let’s just say, if Koko was playing dumb, he played it well enough to let Duterte outtalk himself into a corner. Pastilan. – Rappler.com