By Adolfo Quizon Paglinawan

 

Part 1: Rebutting Dissensions from the Supreme Court’s Retirement Gallery

Supreme Court Justices in the US serve for life tenure, meaning they hold their positions until they die, resign, or are impeached.

This used to be our law up to the 1935 Constitution.

However, in 1947 Judicial Reorganization Act (RA 296) was passed fixing the retirement age to 65 address concerns about declining efficiency of very senior Justices.

The 1973 Constitution citing longer life expectancy and the need for experienced jurists, raised the cap to 70 years.

The 1987 Constitution kept the 70-years cap but emphasizes on a tenure of good behavior seeking to balance maturity versus accountability.

So, in the Philippines, reaching 70 years old automatically causes a vacancy by operation of law on the stroke of midnight of the jurist’s birthday.

With this as background, I am inputing a series of three case studies that sustain the wisdom of this retirement policy.

These analyses carry the scholarly work of Arnedo Valera, who is a member of both the Philippine and New York bars.

When Impeachment Begins

Former Supreme Court Justice Conchita Carpio Morales who was the principal author of the landmark Francisco v. House of Representatives decision has suggested that the “transmittal of the complaint” to the Committee on Justice remains the operative moment that defines the initiation of impeachment proceedings under Philippine constitutional law.

Her current view deserves critical and respectful scholarly engagement, especially when juxtaposed with her own jurisprudence and comparative legal doctrines in American constitutional practice.

The term “initiation” of impeachment is not a mere semantic detail but a procedural fulcrum that activates important limitations—chief among them, the one-year bar rule enshrined in Article XI, Section 3(5) of the 1987 Philippine Constitution:

“No impeachment proceedings shall be initiated against the same official more than once within a period of one year.”

The phrase “initiated” thus demands precision, not speculation. A Supreme Court ruling in 2003 provided exactly that.

The Francisco Doctrine: Filing and Referral

In the Francisco v. House of Representatives, the Supreme Court categorically held that an impeachment proceeding is deemed initiated only upon both the filing and referral of a verified complaint to the Committee on Justice.

The Court emphasized: “An impeachment proceeding is deemed initiated when a verified complaint is filed and referred to the Committee on Justice for action.”

This doctrinal formula—filing plus referral—is not a casual observation. It forms part of the ratio decidendi of the case, and is thus binding precedent. To now suggest that “transmittal alone” suffices contradicts both the language and spirit of that ruling.

It is surprising, then, that the very Justice who penned this authoritative decision now appears to espouse a more limited reading that detaches initiation from referral.

Respectfully, this revised stance weakens the procedural safeguards that the Constitution intended to erect against political harassment and abuse of the impeachment process.

Why Referral Matters

The referral requirement is not bureaucratic fluff—it is the formal mechanism by which the House of Representatives engages with a verified complaint.

Without referral, a complaint merely languishes as a piece of paper in the archives. It has no legal life until the Committee on Justice, acting in its constitutional duty, receives and acts upon it. The dual act of filing and referral is what gives the impeachment process its official character and constitutional weight.

US Parallel

To further illuminate the issue, we may turn briefly to American constitutional jurisprudence, where impeachment has been long exercised under the doctrine of congressional plenary power.

Under Article I, Section 2 of the U.S. Constitution, the House of Representatives has the “sole power of impeachment.”

As explained in Jefferson’s Manual and further affirmed in practice, impeachment is initiated upon the filing of a resolution or the start of a formal investigation, regardless of whether a committee referral occurs immediately.

The political character of impeachment—recognized in cases like Nixon v. United States, 506 U.S. 224 (1993)—means that the courts refrain from interfering in procedural disputes, leaving initiation timing largely to congressional discretion.

The lesson here is not to emulate the exact mechanics of the U.S. system, but to understand that each constitutional democracy gives special procedural meaning to “initiation” within its own legal and institutional framework.

In the Philippines, the Supreme Court has clearly spoken: initiation is a two-step process, and any attempt to truncate it invites instability and constitutional confusion.

Upholding Constitutional Discipline

To now reinterpret “initiation” as merely the “transmittal” of a complaint—without regard to referral—would reduce the constitutional provision to a paper tiger. Worse, it would contradict a final and executory judgment of the Supreme Court.

The doctrine of stare decisis, deeply embedded in our civil law tradition and reinforced by the need for legal predictability, demands that Francisco v. House remain a good law until formally overturned.

Only the Court, sitting en banc with jurisdiction, can reverse itself—and even then, only for compelling and thoroughly justified reasons.

Moreover, the res judicata character of “Francisco” makes it part of our living constitutional order.

It cannot be casually revised by subsequent opinion, whether academic, political, or even from a former member of the Court.

Why Due Process Still Reigns

The recent commentary published by Former SC Justice Adolfo S. Azcuna on July 30, 2025, under the title “The Principal Casualty,” raises profound concerns about the Supreme Court’s ruling interpreting the term “initiate” within Article XI, Section 3 of the 1987 Constitution.

His thesis suggests that the Court’s reading of “initiate” undermines the spirit of accountability and disrupts what he sees as the sui generis nature of impeachment proceedings.

While the former SC Justice’s concern for public accountability is laudable, his constitutional analysis suffers from significant flaws—both doctrinal and jurisprudential—that warrant clarification.

This brief aims to affirm the critical role of due process, reaffirm the necessity of judicial review, and defend the Court’s textual and structural interpretation of impeachment as firmly grounded in constitutional design, not political compromise.

Justice Azcuna appears to imply that due process may yield when impeachment is at stake, reasoning that no deprivation of life, liberty, or property is involved.

This claim is not only legally inaccurate—it is dangerous. It overlooks settled principles in both Philippine and American constitutional traditions, where even the removal of one from public office implicates interests that are constitutionally protected.

The landmark Philippine case Ang Tibay v. Court of Industrial Relations, 69 Phil. 635 (1940), still serves as a cornerstone in administrative law, holding that quasi-judicial bodies must observe the rudiments of fair play.

Impeachment, although political in form, is adjudicative in function. Its impact—the removal from a constitutionally mandated office—carries consequences far beyond politics. In Estrada v. Desierto, G.R. No. 146710-15 (2001), the Court was unequivocal: even the exercise of political powers must conform to legal and constitutional limits.

This is echoed in U.S. jurisprudence. In Board of Regents v. Roth, 408 U.S. 564 (1972), and Mathews v. Eldridge, 424 U.S. 319 (1976), the U.S. Supreme Court clarified that even non-criminal state actions that affect a person’s profession or entitlement demand procedural safeguards. Political office is a public trust, yes, but it is not a gift subject to arbitrary withdrawal.

Impeachment Is a Constitutional Mechanism, Not an Unchecked Power

Justice Azcuna’s assertion that impeachment occupies a realm above or apart from constitutional limits misreads the very structure of the Constitution.

While impeachment is indeed unique in procedure, it remains a creation of constitutional text. It cannot exist beyond the reach of the very charter that brought it into being.

Article VIII, Section 1 of the 1987 Constitution empowers the judiciary to determine grave abuse of discretion committed by any instrumentality of government, including Congress.

In Francisco v. House of Representatives, G.R. No. 160261 (2003), the Supreme Court emphasized that the House could not interpret the “initiation” clause in a way that subverts its clear purpose—preventing the harassment of officials through multiple impeachment attempts within a year.

The Constitution does not exempt political branches from constitutional compliance simply because their functions carry political implications. In fact, precisely because impeachment is political, constitutional safeguards must be even more vigilant.

Defining “Initiate”: Clarity Rooted in Doctrine

The controversy over the term “initiate” lies at the heart of this debate. The former SC Justice suggests the Supreme Court has redefined the term contrary to earlier precedent. That is inaccurate.

The Court has instead affirmed the prevailing doctrine that “initiation” occurs upon the filing and referral of a verified complaint to the House Committee on Justice—just as it was held in Francisco.

If initiation were to occur merely upon filing, without referral, this would open the door to strategic withdrawals and manipulative filings designed to block legitimate impeachment within the one-year prohibition.

That reading would defeat the very objective of the limitation. The Court’s decision seeks to prevent such abuse. This is not judicial activism—it is a necessary doctrinal clarification consistent with both precedent and constitutional logic.

Constituent Powers Are Not Beyond Scrutiny

Justice Azcuna invokes the concept of constituent powers to argue that impeachment proceedings, by nature, are immune to judicial oversight.

But this overlooks a basic distinction in constitutional theory. Constituent powers refer to the power to frame or amend a constitution.

Once a constitution is ratified, all other powers exercised by the government—legislative, executive, or judicial—are derivative and bounded.

Even the U.S. Supreme Court has not hesitated to review executive or legislative conduct when it crosses constitutional boundaries. In United States v. Nixon, 418 U.S. 683 (1974), the Court required the President to comply with a subpoena—proving that no branch stands above the Constitution.

In the Philippine context, the role of the judiciary is to guard against excess, even by Congress. This is not interference—it is fidelity to the constitutional order.

Checks and Balances Are Not Symbolic

Azcuna’s worry that judicial review of impeachment proceedings would allow justices to shield themselves from removal is misplaced. The judiciary does not try impeachments. But it ensures that the rules and boundaries set by the Constitution are observed.

The 1987 Constitution introduced an expanded certiorari jurisdiction precisely to prevent any branch from operating beyond its limits. The Court’s duty is not to favor any branch—but to preserve the integrity of the process.

Accountability cannot come at the cost of legality. Public officers must be held to account, yes—but only through lawful means.

Otherwise, the very purpose of impeachment is undermined by procedural abuse.

Fidelity, Not Expediency, Should Guide Us

In responding to Justice Azcuna’s thoughtful yet flawed argument, we must return to first principles. The Constitution is not a suggestion—it is the supreme law. Impeachment, due process, and judicial review are not mutually exclusive; they are interdependent.

Accountability will only thrive when it is pursued lawfully. In safeguarding the integrity of constitutional processes—even those with political flavor—the Court does not undermine democracy; it sustains it.

Let us be clear: no cause, however righteous, justifies the abandonment of constitutional guarantees.

In the end, what sustains the Republic is not the loudest call for justice, but the measured, principled application of law.

Conclusion: Let Law Be Law

While respectful debate is the lifeblood of constitutional democracy, we must not allow personal reinterpretations—however distinguished the source—to dilute the meaning of established precedent. The rule of law is not made stronger by revisiting settled doctrine on the basis of momentary preference or political expediency.

Let us not rewrite the Constitution through press statements or retrospective revisions.

If the rule of law is to endure, then its guardians—past and present—must also honor the judgments it has rendered. #

To be continued

   

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