The Supreme Court’s January 28, 2026 resolution denying the House of Representatives’ motion for reconsideration in the Duterte impeachment case represents more than a judicial pronouncement on procedural technicalities.

It stands as a critical reaffirmation that constitutional limits on political power remain enforceable, that courts must not retreat into passivity when fundamental processes are compromised, and that the lessons of our authoritarian past still guide our democratic present.

This case has provoked fierce debate about judicial review itself. Critics characterize the Court’s intervention as overreach, calling expanded judicial review “historical baggage” from the Marcos era that impedes democratic governance. They argue impeachment is inherently political and should remain beyond judicial scrutiny except in the most extreme circumstances.

This criticism fundamentally misreads both our constitutional architecture and the continuing necessity of robust judicial review in protecting democracy from its own institutions.

The shadow of Javellana

Understanding why the 1987 Constitution expanded judicial power requires confronting the Supreme Court’s darkest hour. In April 1973, the Court faced a simple question in Javellana v. Executive Secretary: did Ferdinand Marcos validly ratify the 1973 Constitution? The answer would determine whether the dictatorship possessed constitutional legitimacy.

The Court failed catastrophically. In a fractured decision with no clear majority, it validated Marcos’ constitutional coup through judicial abdication. Several justices invoked the political question doctrine, claiming the issue exceeded judicial competence. Others deployed tortured reasoning to avoid confronting executive power directly.

Then-chief justice Roberto Concepcion stood firm in dissent. His opinion was unequivocal: the 1973 Constitution was invalid because it had not been properly ratified by the Filipino people. He refused to treat fundamental constitutional questions as nonjusticiable merely because they seemed “political.” But Concepcion was outvoted. The consequences were catastrophic. The Court’s failure cleared the path for 14 years of dictatorship.

Javellana demonstrated that even an independent judiciary could become complicit in authoritarianism through passivity, through hiding behind doctrinal technicalities when courage was required.

After EDSA restored democracy in 1986, then-president Corazon Aquino appointed Concepcion to the Constitutional Commission, where he chaired the committee on the judiciary. His experience shaped Article VIII, Section 1 of the 1987 Constitution, which defines judicial power to include “the duty to determine whether or not there has been a grave abuse of discretion amounting to lack or excess of jurisdiction on the part of any branch or instrumentality of the government.”

This provision is often characterized as expanding judicial power. I teach it differently: as a reaffirmation of that power and a categorical rejection of the political question doctrine as an excuse for judicial passivity. 

The framers had lived through Javellana. They knew what happened when courts refused to check political power. Chief justice Concepcion’s participation in crafting this provision represented his answer to being outvoted in 1973: a Constitution that would not permit courts to hide when fundamental principles were at stake.

Why Javellana still matters

Critics dismiss this framework as obsolete, suited perhaps for authoritarian times but unnecessary in a functioning democracy. 

As a practicing human rights and environmental justice lawyer leading a development and social change law firm, I frequently turn to the Supreme Court to strike down executive or legislative actions that harm our clients. Families of desaparecidos, communities threatened by development aggression in Nueva Vizcaya, Pakil, Zambales, and Manila Bay, indigenous peoples whose ancestral domains face exploitation under unconstitutional mining laws — these clients depend on judicial review as their last line of defense against government overreach.

I do not want to tell them we have no judicial recourse because courts have been stripped of the power to declare bad government actions unconstitutional. That would be a return to Javellana’s abdication, dressed in new rhetoric about democratic deference.

Defending robust judicial review does not mean embracing judicial supremacy. The Supreme Court makes mistakes. Its decisions can be criticized and its reasoning challenged. Constitutional amendment remains available to correct judicial interpretations if needed.

But the solution to potential judicial error is not judicial abdication. It is reasoned judgment constrained by constitutional text, precedent, and principle. It is a Court that acts with humility while remaining firm in its duty to say what the law is.

In the Duterte case, the Court did not substitute its judgment about whether the Vice President should be impeached. It did not evaluate the merits of allegations against her. The Court explicitly stated, “our ruling does not absolve petitioner Duterte from any of the charges.” What the Court examined was whether constitutional boundaries were respected in how the impeachment process was conducted. That is precisely what judicial review should do.

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The January 28 resolution’s clarifications

The resolution did more than deny reconsideration. It corrected factual errors from the July 2025 decision, acknowledged that a plenary session had approved transmittal of Articles of Impeachment, and refined the constitutional framework governing future proceedings.

Most significantly, the resolution clarified when the one-year bar against multiple impeachment complaints was triggered. The July decision had calculated the bar from February 5, 2025, when the House archived the first complaints and transmitted the fourth. The resolution corrected this: for citizen-initiated complaints properly filed and endorsed, the one-year period runs from initiation (December 2, 2024), not from dismissal or archival.

The resolution further clarified that the one-year bar was actually triggered on January 14, 2025, when the House breached the 10-session-day deadline for including the first complaint in the order of business. This means the immunity lapsed on January 15, 2026, and new impeachment complaints could immediately be filed. Progressive and civil society leaders who submitted the first batch of complaints filed fresh ones on February 2, 2026.

The Court also addressed what constitutes a “session day” for constitutional deadlines, rejecting the House’s argument that legislative practice allowing multiday sessions should apply. “For the initiation stage of impeachment, which is a constitutional process, a session day is a calendar day in which the House of Representatives holds a session,” the resolution stated. This prevents manipulation through creative scheduling and ensures impeachment moves forward with appropriate urgency.

Perhaps most importantly, the resolution refined the due process requirements in impeachment proceedings, adopting a more nuanced approach than the July decision suggested. “The impeachment process is primarily a legal, political, and constitutional procedure. It is not a purely political proceeding,” the Court held. Due process applies throughout, but in a manner appropriate to each stage.

For complaints initiated by at least one-third of House members, due process requires that draft Articles of Impeachment be accompanied by evidence meeting the House’s quantum of proof, that this evidence be available during plenary endorsement, and that the respondent receive a full opportunity to be heard during the Senate trial. This framework respects Congress’ political judgment while ensuring constitutional compliance.

Critics claim the Court’s ruling makes impeachment impossible or prohibitively difficult. The opposite is true. By establishing clear constitutional guideposts, the Court has made impeachment more predictable and constitutionally sound. The House and Senate now understand the procedures they must follow, the timelines they must observe, and the due process requirements they must respect.

We will see this as both the House and Senate deal with the impeachment complaints against both President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. and Vice President Sara Duterte.

Every semester, I bring my constitutional law students to the Supreme Court. We gather around former chief justice Concepcion’s portrait. I share my unqualified opinion that he was our greatest chief justice, an honor he shares with martyred chief justice Jose Abad Santos.

We honor Concepcion’s legacy not by treating judicial review as historical baggage to discard but by exercising it without fear when constitutional principles demand it. The alternative — a Court that reflexively defers to political branches and hides behind the political question doctrine — is not judicial restraint. It is the abdication that enabled dictatorship in Javellana and could enable future abuses.

Four decades after EDSA and more than five decades after Javellana, we still need courts willing to say what the law is and make it mean something. That principle, born from the trauma of dictatorship and the courage of dissenters like chief justice Concepcion, remains the foundation of our democratic order. – Rappler.com