Then came Ombudsman Crispin Remulla’s words: “I don’t see fear in their faces.”
That line hit like a gavel. When those under investigation can laugh—literally—at the system meant to hold them accountable, it’s not just a scandal. It’s a signal. A signal that the institutions we’ve entrusted to fight corruption are no longer feared, no longer respected, and maybe no longer working.
The ICI: A Commission in Crisis
The Independent Commission for Infrastructure was meant to be our scalpel—cutting through corruption in public works with surgical precision. Instead, it’s dulled by secrecy, bruised by politics, and increasingly seen as a shield rather than a sword.
Its hearings remain closed to the public, breeding suspicion instead of trust. And its roster of appointees only deepens the unease.
As columnist Jarius Bondoc pointed out, Gen. Rodolfo Azurin—now an ICI adviser—dismissed citizen protests as “chaos” and “violence,” ignoring the very freedom the commission claims to uphold. Meanwhile, Rosanna Fajardo’s ties to politically exposed entities like Benguet Corp. and the Romualdez family raise questions about impartiality.
Then came the photo-op that lit up social media. ICI Chair Andres Reyes shaking hands with Brice Hernandez, a self-confessed graft offender. What should’ve been a quiet forfeiture turned into a public spectacle—one that critics saw as an attempt to sanitize a criminal’s image. Reyes’s judicial record, including votes in the ouster of Chief Justice Sereno and the detention of Senator Leila de Lima, only adds to the perception of politicized leanings.
And now, even those under scrutiny—like Sarah Discaya—can laugh through a Senate probe, unbothered and unafraid. That viral image wasn’t just a meme. It was a mirror. A reflection of how far we’ve drifted from accountability.
When the accused feels no heat, it means the fire’s gone out.
Remulla’s Rise: A Turning Point
Enter Crispin Remulla. No fanfare. No theatrics. Just action.
He reopened the Pharmally case—one of the most glaring symbols of pandemic profiteering. He ordered the release of SALNs, cracking open the vault of public officials’ wealth. He’s probing ties that others tiptoe around, including Senator Bong Go’s alleged links to the Discayas. And he’s doing it with a kind of quiet ferocity that says: This time, we’re serious.
Remulla isn’t just restoring the Ombudsman’s teeth. He’s sharpening them.
And when the Office of the President itself suggests that citizens submit evidence directly to the Ombudsman, bypassing the ICI altogether—that’s not just a procedural tweak. That’s a vote of no confidence.
Sunlight Is the Best Medicine
And right now, we need a floodlight.
Transparency isn’t a PR stunt. It’s the oxygen of democracy. When hearings are closed, when findings are buried, when the public is kept in the dark, corruption doesn’t just survive—it thrives.
Fear, in this context, is not oppression. It’s accountability. It’s the rightful consequence of wrongdoing. And if the ICI can’t inspire that fear—if it can’t even inspire respect—then it’s not a watchdog. It’s a lapdog.
The Spiritual Weight of Fear
Sarah Discaya’s laugh may have gone viral. But it’s Remulla’s quiet observation—“I don’t see fear in their faces”—that should haunt us. Because fear, when it’s absent in the face of wrongdoing, signals something far more troubling than guilt. It signals impunity.
To understand fear’s deeper role in accountability, let me offer a simple illustration.
Imagine being handed a newly-invented gadget—one that functions like a speaker, but instead of playing music, it broadcasts your thoughts aloud to the public. Not just your polished opinions, but your raw, unfiltered inner voice.
What would you do? Most likely, you’d hide it. Tuck it away. Avoid turning it on. Why? Because you fear what others might hear. You fear the truth being exposed.
That kind of fear isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom. It’s the soul’s alarm bell, warning us that something hidden needs reckoning. And when institutions lose the ability to provide that fear—when those under investigation can laugh through probes and shrug off scrutiny—it means the system has lost its moral weight.
This is where the words of Jesus in Luke 12:2-3 ring with piercing clarity.
That’s not just scripture—it’s a spiritual truth and a civic warning. Transparency isn’t optional. It’s divine design. And fear, when rooted in truth, is the first step toward redemption.
The Case for Dissolution
So let me be clear: It’s time to dissolve the ICI.
Let’s stop pretending it’s working. Let’s stop pouring hope into a vessel that leaks. Let’s hand the reins to the Ombudsman—an institution with constitutional muscle, legal authority, and now, under Remulla, the moral clarity to match.
Let’s reinforce it. Resource it. Trust it. Let it lead.
The public isn’t just angry. We’re exhausted. We’re tired of a commission that investigates in silence and deliver in whispers. We want thunder. We want truth. We want justice that doesn’t flinch.
Final Word
We don’t need commission. We need conviction. We don’t need shadows. We need sunlight.
And if the ICI can’t deliver that, then it’s time to step aside. Because the people are watching. And this time, we won’t settle for silence.
Let us be the housetops from which justice is proclaimed. Let us demand fear—not of power, but of truth. Let us demand transparency—not as a favor, but as a right.
The time for whispers in shadows is over. The time for fearless accountability is now.
Content & editing put together in collaboration with Bing Microsoft AI-powered Co-pilot
Head collage photos courtesy of Shutterstock, Adobe Stock, Journey AI Art; design by Canva
Still photos courtesy of ABS-CBN News, Joan Bondoc/PNA, YouTube, Facebook, pexels.com, Freepik, Bing image creator, & dimitrisvetsikas1969
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