THE FALL
Lifted from OPTIC POLITICS
EDITORIAL | The Candle That Burned Out: The Collapse of Martin Romualdez’s Speakership
OPTIC Politics | September 17, 2025
Power, in a democracy, is never permanent. It is borrowed, conditional, and answerable to the Constitution and the people. Yet Martin Romualdez believed otherwise. For three years, he built his speakership on the illusion of invincibility, mistaking political arithmetic for public trust. Today, that illusion has collapsed, and his resignation marks not just the fall of one man, but the implosion of an entire machinery of arrogance.
Romualdez’s downfall was not sudden — it was the natural result of years of abuse. His speakership will be remembered as a textbook case of how not to lead a legislative chamber. Under his watch, budget insertions and flood-control scandals surfaced, billions in taxpayer money allegedly redirected and repackaged with suspicious precision. Congress, endowed by the Constitution with the power of the purse, was reduced into an instrument of favoritism. Public funds meant to build schools, hospitals, and communities were instead entangled in allegations of influence and political manipulation.
The Constitution is clear: public office is a public trust. It is not an inheritance for family dynasties, nor a cash register for political allies. Romualdez blurred this line, transforming the House into an arena of loyalty contests, where obedience was rewarded with allocations and dissent punished with exclusion. This was not leadership; it was coercion wrapped in patronage.
And now, when accountability has arrived, let us be blunt: Martin Romualdez will never be given the chance to correct his mistakes — because he never will. The damage is too deep, the mistrust too wide, the scandals too numerous. Even his own cousin, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., already knee-deep in controversies of his own, cannot save him. To defend Romualdez now is political suicide, and even Malacañang knows it.
The so-called “high six” of Romualdez’s empire — Zaldy Co, Dong Gonzales, Mannix Dalipe, Edwin Gardiola, Jayjay Suarez, and their cheering cohorts — were once the loudest attack dogs against the Dutertes, speaking with the arrogance of borrowed authority. Where are they now? Reports say Zaldy Co is in America, out of sight and conveniently beyond the immediate reach of accountability. Gonzales, once parading his influence, is now reportedly absent from the country. Dalipe and Gardiola have all but disappeared from the plenary. Suarez, a deputy speaker who reveled in his power, is now a faint echo of his old bravado.
Even once-fiery voices like Congressman Beny Abante and Representative Gerville Luistro have turned down their volume. These were men who strutted with confidence when Romualdez was untouchable, but the moment his candle burned out, they shrank into silence. They who roared like lions are now hiding like mice.
Even the Makabayan bloc — long accused of being ideological fighters and political contrarians — has suddenly gone quiet. Once quick to attack and confront leaders in the House, they now seem unwilling to throw Romualdez a lifeline. Why? Because even they know that saving him is impossible, and associating with his collapse is toxic. When even your most unlikely “critics-turned-possible-saviors” won’t lend you a rope, it means the game is truly over.
This fall should serve as a warning to every public official: the people may be patient, but they are not blind. The Constitution may be stretched, but it will always snap back. Political allies may roar in unison, but when the candle burns out, even the loudest scatter in the dark.
Romualdez’s resignation should not be romanticized as an act of sacrifice. It was the inevitable result of pressure from all corners, a desperate attempt to shield the administration from further damage, and a tacit admission that his hold on power had become untenable. He did not step down out of humility, but because his empire could no longer withstand the weight of its own contradictions.
For three years, Romualdez tried to build a dynasty within the House. But power built on coercion crumbles the moment accountability arrives. And accountability has arrived, not by choice, but by necessity.
The collapse of Martin Romualdez’s speakership is not the end of accountability. It is only the beginning. The people deserve answers. Where did the money go? Who profited from the budget anomalies? Which lawmakers signed off on suspicious contracts? These questions will not disappear with Romualdez’s resignation. They will pursue him — and those who enabled him — until the truth is laid bare.
In the end, Romualdez’s downfall is not just a personal defeat; it is a constitutional victory. It reminds us that no Speaker, no dynasty, no coalition of power-hungry men can ever outlast the will of the people and the law of the Republic.
The candle of Romualdez’s speakership has burned out. The smoke it leaves behind is toxic, but it is also temporary. What must remain permanent is the lesson: power belongs to the people, and betrayal of that trust will always end in collapse.
