Read this in The Manila Times digital edition.
IS selective justice an injustice? Yes, and maybe no. Yes, it is an injustice to the general public. But maybe not to those who are out to take revenge.
Justice cannot be selective unless the state is able and willing to probe everyone with the motive to commit a crime, as in the case of Sen. Rodante Marcoleta, who was charged with plunder by the Ombudsman yesterday, July 3, 2026. Even if the state is willing, which, given our political culture, is an impossibility, its ability is in doubt given that even the most robust justice system cannot cope with the workload that thousands of probable criminal cases may impose upon it.
Selective justice is a recurring question whenever hostilities among opposing partisan camps spill over the bounds of electoral processes. That question reached a high note early this week, when supporters of Marcoleta, led by the Iglesia Ni Cristo (INC), mounted a three-day protest rally within the vicinity of the People Power Monument in EDSA, Quezon City, and at the Liwasang Bonifacio in Manila.
INC spokesman Edwil Zabala said that the mass gathering was meant to show support for Marcoleta. “What we find puzzling is why the very person who has been pushing to expose those allegedly involved in this massive theft of the Filipino people’s money is now the one being charged and threatened with imprisonment, instead of those whom he exposed ... We want them to know that selective justice is an injustice, and we will not remain silent in the face of this grave assault on the justice that our people deserve,” he said.
Marcoleta is a member of INC, whose support for both former president Rodrigo Duterte and his daughter, Vice President Sara Duterte, is publicly known. When Marcoleta chaired the Senate Blue Ribbon Committee, he led an investigation into the flood control controversy where he assembled witnesses that exposed the kickbacks allegedly given to President Marcos and his allies, while hedging fellow Duterte supporter colleagues away from any wrongdoing. When he had his way, Marcoleta was the living epithet of selective justice.
The injustice, then and now, was being served either way.
The mephitic stench from the flood control mess raises the suspicion that thousands of individuals are plunderers. “He who has the means, opportunity and motive,” says Sen. Panfilo Lacson, “is the most probable suspect.” A former Philippine National Police chief, Lacson’s solid career in crime investigation precedes his reputation as a respectable lawmaker (he holds the unique record of being “pork barrel-free” throughout his multiple terms as a senator).
Except for the descendants of Saint Francis of Assisi (his spiritual children, so to speak, because as a Catholic priest, he would be expected to have kept his vow of celibacy), who took to heart Christ’s command to “go, sell what you have and give to the poor” literally, every Filipino, except the toddlers, would have the motive to get rich by whatever means, including fraudulent means. That’s a huge baseline: about a hundred million likely plunderers. And yet, to get ahead in life is a legitimate dream.
Ambition is often a positive driving force. That is how capitalism, before it breeds greed, with the free market mechanism as the vehicle toward economic growth, works: each one competing with the other through efficiency and innovation to maximize profit. That is how democracy, before the poor become too dependent on the benevolence of the rich, works: Each one tries to win political power by exposing the competition for its corrupt practices.
But not all of the likely suspects have the means to steal. This eliminates the millions who are poor. This trims the baseline to around 4 million, including government contractors and suppliers, 650,000 politicians (the president, vice president, senators, representatives, provincial, city, municipal and barangay government elected officials, and around 630,000 barangay officials), and 3 million career and non-career civil servants (including men and women in uniform as well as contractual and job-order employees).
Most of them may have the means to steal, but the barangay officials, local legislators and rank-and-file government employees usually do not have access to public funds big enough to amount to what might constitute the fruit of plunder. The opportunity to steal knocks elsewhere. From a pool of 4 million, we can then turn our eyes to about 4,000 (comprising political leaders at the national, provincial, city and municipal levels, and heads of executive departments, attached agencies, bureaus, offices, state universities and colleges, and government-owned or -controlled corporations).
Even if we limit the suspects to those whose hands may have dipped into the flood control cookie jar, we are still left with around 400 persons of interest, comprising the president, executive secretary, members of Congress and top officials of the Department of Public Works and Highways, and the Department of Budget and Management. This is the minimum number of cases that investigators, prosecutors and judges will need to hear and try so that no administration can be suspected of dispensing selective justice. The problem is that no administration will ever have the logistical capacity, nor the will, to perform that daunting task.
Selective justice, therefore, is the second-best thing that can happen to an unjust world.
Students of Philippine politics will note how the winners of every election, regardless of affiliation, almost invariably find their way to Malacañang. Often the motive is beyond gestures and courtesy calls: to seek access to an opportunity to steal and the connection that provides immunity from selective justice.
The cycle of the justice and political system may not break; the ogre will never die, as it were, and the public is left with nothing except the ambition of the next ogre who dares to expose the corrupt. This may not satisfy everyone, but at least it can serve the ends of justice in whatever way.