OPINION
Ed Javier
Meet House Minority Leader Libanan The Dog That Doesn't Bark Or Bite
Photo credit: Cong. Marcelino Libanan
It’s official. The House Minority bloc has once again chosen Rep. Marcelino Libanan as their leader for the second half of the Marcos Jr. administration.
According to Party-list Rep. Leila de Lima, this marks a shift: the Minority will now be “stricter,” “more discerning,” and ready to “call out deficiencies” in the administration’s programs and legislative priorities.
To anyone with a memory longer than a news cycle, it rings hollow, if not downright farcical.
Let’s go straight to the point. Libanan’s record as Minority Leader in the 19th Congress is next to zero.
No meaningful resistance. No significant floor speeches challenging corruption or bloated budgets. No pushback on controversial bills. Just quiet, comfortable, and utterly forgettable participation.
A quiet check of his past roles, whether as Minority Leader, vice governor, district congressman, or Immigration commissioner, raises serious questions. The record invites scrutiny on matters of integrity. That, they say, is a story for another column.
Even his party-list credentials are a red flag. Libanan represents the “4Ps” party-list, a name brazenly borrowed from the government’s Pantawid Pamilyang Pilipino Program.
If transparency cannot even begin with the name of your party-list, how can integrity be expected in crafting laws, overseeing the budget, or fiscalizing executive abuse?
Take a wider view. This is not just about Libanan. His selection as Minority Leader reveals a much deeper, long-running problem in our legislature: the Majority still controls who leads the Minority.
This is the dirty little open secret of the House of Representatives. Few dare to say it out loud.
To avoid real scrutiny, the Majority often quietly arranges for a set of “friendly” members to declare themselves as part of the Minority bloc.
Once they reach the necessary numbers, they elect a tame, cooperative leader, one who will not make trouble when pork-filled budgets are debated, when tobacco lobby bills are passed, or when shady franchise applications need rubber-stamping.
What we are witnessing is not a genuine opposition but a legislative version of a company union, a setup designed not to challenge the status quo but to protect it, while giving the public the illusion of checks and balances.
What frustrates most is the silence of those who should know better. We attended a University of the Philippines graduation last weekend, and in the middle of the ceremonies, a group of students broke into a lightning protest, fearless, unapologetic, and true to what the university has long stood for.
It stirred something familiar. It reminded me of the idealism we all carried in our youth, the urgency to speak truth, to challenge power, to never stay silent in the face of injustice.
So what happened to those who once lived by those same convictions? What happened to UP alumni like Chel Diokno, Percival Cendana, or even Terry Ridon?
Once bold voices for justice and reform, they now seem content with polite silence. Is that what happens after a few years in power?
They wore the sablay with pride, the sash meant to symbolize honor, courage, and service to the people. But these days, the word sablay feels like something else entirely.
If this is what "public service" now looks like to you, then congratulations. You’ve made sablay mean exactly what it sounds like: failure.
Where is the voice of Atty. Chel, son of the great statesman and fearless fiscalizer, Senator Jose “Pepe” Diokno?
The elder Diokno, once a staunch and unrelenting critic of Marcos Sr., must be shouting in his grave. He would have exposed this charade in one floor speech. Today, we get silence. Complicity. Possibly even quiet consent.
What happened to the ideals that De Lima and Diokno fought for before they got elected? What happened to Arlene "Kaka" Bag-ao, long considered a principled voice for progressive local governance? What about the Kabataan Party-list?
These are individuals and blocs who once stood firmly against co-optation, corruption, and political fakery.
Today, they say nothing about a long-running scam where the Majority handpicks its own opposition. Why not call it out?
The Left-leaning blocs of old once opposed every sitting president regardless of party. For all their ideological rigidity, they had consistency and courage.
That kind of principled resistance is what should be leading the Minority. That kind of opposition never played safe and never played along.
Instead, we get the return of Libanan. If this were his first time, perhaps he would deserve the benefit of the doubt. This is not his first rodeo. His public career speaks for itself.
There is no history of bold legislative action. No legacy of opposing abuse. Just a long and quiet trail of missed opportunities.
To top it off, 26 lawmakers signed a manifesto endorsing Libanan as Minority Leader. The document declared, without irony, “With confidence in his ability to lead with honor, wisdom, and dedication, we affirm our collective support.”
Did they actually read what they signed? Did they truly believe it? Anyone who has paid attention over the years would struggle to say it with a straight face. “Honor, wisdom, and dedication”?
That line would probably draw a quiet chuckle from both the House and immigration press corps. No serious observer would attach that description to Libanan’s public record.
De Lima insists the Minority will not be obstructionist. That is not the point. Opposition is not about being contrarian. It is about having conviction.
It is about having the courage to say “no” when everyone else is nodding, especially when the nation’s coffers, rights, and dignity are on the line.
What we need is an opposition that scrutinizes ₱800 billion in unprogrammed funds. One that resists pro-tobacco legislation disguised as “harm reduction.” One that challenges and calls out the recycling of failed programs and cronies.
What we are getting instead is a stage managed production. A fake opposition designed to preserve the illusion of accountability while ensuring zero resistance.
With Libanan at the helm, do not expect fiscalizing. Do not expect fireworks. Do not expect anything except business as usual, maybe with the occasional press release.
In a time of real crisis, that is not just disappointing. It is dangerous.
Kung ang oposisyon ay bulag sa mali, pipi sa katiwalian, at bingi sa hinaing ng bayan, hindi ito oposisyon. Ito’y kasabwat.
At kapag ganyan ang lider ng minorya, hindi ang mayorya ang problema, kundi ang mismong kaligtasan ng ating demokrasya.
According to Party-list Rep. Leila de Lima, this marks a shift: the Minority will now be “stricter,” “more discerning,” and ready to “call out deficiencies” in the administration’s programs and legislative priorities.
To anyone with a memory longer than a news cycle, it rings hollow, if not downright farcical.
Let’s go straight to the point. Libanan’s record as Minority Leader in the 19th Congress is next to zero.
No meaningful resistance. No significant floor speeches challenging corruption or bloated budgets. No pushback on controversial bills. Just quiet, comfortable, and utterly forgettable participation.
A quiet check of his past roles, whether as Minority Leader, vice governor, district congressman, or Immigration commissioner, raises serious questions. The record invites scrutiny on matters of integrity. That, they say, is a story for another column.
Even his party-list credentials are a red flag. Libanan represents the “4Ps” party-list, a name brazenly borrowed from the government’s Pantawid Pamilyang Pilipino Program.
If transparency cannot even begin with the name of your party-list, how can integrity be expected in crafting laws, overseeing the budget, or fiscalizing executive abuse?
Take a wider view. This is not just about Libanan. His selection as Minority Leader reveals a much deeper, long-running problem in our legislature: the Majority still controls who leads the Minority.
This is the dirty little open secret of the House of Representatives. Few dare to say it out loud.
To avoid real scrutiny, the Majority often quietly arranges for a set of “friendly” members to declare themselves as part of the Minority bloc.
Once they reach the necessary numbers, they elect a tame, cooperative leader, one who will not make trouble when pork-filled budgets are debated, when tobacco lobby bills are passed, or when shady franchise applications need rubber-stamping.
What we are witnessing is not a genuine opposition but a legislative version of a company union, a setup designed not to challenge the status quo but to protect it, while giving the public the illusion of checks and balances.
What frustrates most is the silence of those who should know better. We attended a University of the Philippines graduation last weekend, and in the middle of the ceremonies, a group of students broke into a lightning protest, fearless, unapologetic, and true to what the university has long stood for.
It stirred something familiar. It reminded me of the idealism we all carried in our youth, the urgency to speak truth, to challenge power, to never stay silent in the face of injustice.
So what happened to those who once lived by those same convictions? What happened to UP alumni like Chel Diokno, Percival Cendana, or even Terry Ridon?
Once bold voices for justice and reform, they now seem content with polite silence. Is that what happens after a few years in power?
They wore the sablay with pride, the sash meant to symbolize honor, courage, and service to the people. But these days, the word sablay feels like something else entirely.
If this is what "public service" now looks like to you, then congratulations. You’ve made sablay mean exactly what it sounds like: failure.
Where is the voice of Atty. Chel, son of the great statesman and fearless fiscalizer, Senator Jose “Pepe” Diokno?
The elder Diokno, once a staunch and unrelenting critic of Marcos Sr., must be shouting in his grave. He would have exposed this charade in one floor speech. Today, we get silence. Complicity. Possibly even quiet consent.
What happened to the ideals that De Lima and Diokno fought for before they got elected? What happened to Arlene "Kaka" Bag-ao, long considered a principled voice for progressive local governance? What about the Kabataan Party-list?
These are individuals and blocs who once stood firmly against co-optation, corruption, and political fakery.
Today, they say nothing about a long-running scam where the Majority handpicks its own opposition. Why not call it out?
The Left-leaning blocs of old once opposed every sitting president regardless of party. For all their ideological rigidity, they had consistency and courage.
That kind of principled resistance is what should be leading the Minority. That kind of opposition never played safe and never played along.
Instead, we get the return of Libanan. If this were his first time, perhaps he would deserve the benefit of the doubt. This is not his first rodeo. His public career speaks for itself.
There is no history of bold legislative action. No legacy of opposing abuse. Just a long and quiet trail of missed opportunities.
To top it off, 26 lawmakers signed a manifesto endorsing Libanan as Minority Leader. The document declared, without irony, “With confidence in his ability to lead with honor, wisdom, and dedication, we affirm our collective support.”
Did they actually read what they signed? Did they truly believe it? Anyone who has paid attention over the years would struggle to say it with a straight face. “Honor, wisdom, and dedication”?
That line would probably draw a quiet chuckle from both the House and immigration press corps. No serious observer would attach that description to Libanan’s public record.
De Lima insists the Minority will not be obstructionist. That is not the point. Opposition is not about being contrarian. It is about having conviction.
It is about having the courage to say “no” when everyone else is nodding, especially when the nation’s coffers, rights, and dignity are on the line.
What we need is an opposition that scrutinizes ₱800 billion in unprogrammed funds. One that resists pro-tobacco legislation disguised as “harm reduction.” One that challenges and calls out the recycling of failed programs and cronies.
What we are getting instead is a stage managed production. A fake opposition designed to preserve the illusion of accountability while ensuring zero resistance.
With Libanan at the helm, do not expect fiscalizing. Do not expect fireworks. Do not expect anything except business as usual, maybe with the occasional press release.
In a time of real crisis, that is not just disappointing. It is dangerous.
Kung ang oposisyon ay bulag sa mali, pipi sa katiwalian, at bingi sa hinaing ng bayan, hindi ito oposisyon. Ito’y kasabwat.
At kapag ganyan ang lider ng minorya, hindi ang mayorya ang problema, kundi ang mismong kaligtasan ng ating demokrasya.
Jul 8, 2025
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