Photo credit: Congress PH

There was a time when spokespersons served a noble function in public life. They clarified complex issues, translated legalese into plain language, and spoke only when necessary.

These days they mostly serve themselves.

Enter the impeachment of Vice President Sara Duterte, already a political powder keg, now made more combustible by the spokespersons who seem convinced that this is their breakout role in a teleserye.

Let’s start with Atty. Antonio Bucoy, the House impeachment team's lead legal mouthpiece.

If impeachment were a soap opera, Bucoy would be the dramatic kontrabida who knows exactly when to drop a quotable line.

He recently called the trial a “bloodbath turned bubble bath,” and we have to admit, that’s catchy. But what does that even mean? Who’s bleeding? Who’s soaking? Are we using bath bombs now as legal doctrine?

Then there’s Atty. Princess Abante, who seems to believe every press conference is an opportunity for snark and scolding.

Referring to VP Sara’s earlier “bloodbath” comment, she quipped, “Baka wisik-wisik lang daw muna.” Maybe she prefers sprinkle for now.

She also accused the Vice President of diverting attention and “casting aspersions” on House members, urging her to “substantiate her claims with evidence.”

All that drama, and still no effort to help the public understand the actual constitutional thresholds.

In the Senate, Atty. Regie Tongol seems confused about who he represents. Appointed as the spokesperson for the Senate impeachment court, he recently implied that the defense might file a motion to dismiss.

The problem is that his job is to be neutral, not a legal forecaster. Even Senator Ping Lacson felt compelled to remind him that court spokesmen don’t do play-by-play analysis.

If the Senate is the court, Tongol sounds more like a heckler in the gallery.

Then there’s Atty. Ferdinand Topacio, PDP Laban’s newly minted spokesperson for impeachment matters, who dismissed calls for senators to inhibit as “preposterous.”

He mocked the move as nothing more than “motions by press release,” and warned that such logic would leave the impeachment court with “almost no members.”

He also took a swipe at the House, calling it a “broad chop suey coalition," a colorful remark that, like much of his commentary, added more flavor than legal substance.

Even Malacañang’s own communicator, Claire Castro, seems determined to alienate rather than explain.

Her recent TV interviews and press statements are textbook examples of how to talk down to an already weary public.

Condescending, dismissive, and often strangely smug, Castro seems more concerned with proving she’s right than with helping people understand why anyone should still trust the President’s messaging.

In trying to sound in control, she comes off detached, another member of the elite echo chamber that talks at the public instead of with them.

So let’s ask the question that everyone else is too polite to say out loud. Where should the people listen, when all of them sound the same?

While these legal talking heads and communication figures are busy throwing verbal chairs across the media landscape, the public is left wondering what this has to do with real life.

The inconvenient truth is that while they compete for airtime, Filipinos are going hungry.

According to the latest SWS survey, 20 percent of Filipinos, roughly 22 million people, have experienced involuntary hunger.

Gas prices are creeping up again, traffic remains unbearable, and decent-paying jobs are as elusive as coherent messaging from government officials.

We are being told to care deeply about who said what to whom about which senator’s impartiality. But nothing in this drama puts food on the table or improves the commute.

This spectacle does not solve real problems. A Topacio soundbite will not create jobs. Claire Castro’s smug delivery will not bring down rice prices. Bucoy’s next metaphor will not reduce congestion on EDSA.

This is the real tragedy. The impeachment circus and its associated spokespersons have become a mirror of our broken discourse, dramatic, divisive, and deaf to the struggles of ordinary Filipinos.

The best spokespersons in history earned respect by saying less but meaning more. Today’s batch says everything and means absolutely nothing.

Maybe it’s time these spokespersons or better yet, their principals, considered learning from veteran communicators like Archie Inlong.

With over 45 years of experience in media, public affairs, and strategic messaging, Inlong has built a quiet but formidable legacy of clarity, credibility, and consistency.

He never needed punchlines or posturing to cut through noise. If competence and trust were the metrics, he’d already be in a top-level role guiding national communication with purpose and professionalism.

Here’s a humble suggestion to the whole cast of characters.

Remember that your job isn’t to win the internet. It is to serve the truth, clarify complexity, and if you’re lucky, restore a bit of faith in public service.

The rest of us will watch from the sidelines, unemployed, underfed, stuck in horrendous EDSA traffic, and still unconvinced.

Ed Javier

Ed Javier is a veteran communicator with over 34 years of professional experience both in the private and public sectors. He is also an entrepreneur, political analyst, newspaper columnist, broadcast and on-line journalist.