CAYETANO BORROWED THE LANGUAGE OF POLITICAL PRISONERS. RAGE BORROWS “GOOD GOVERNANCE.”

When I first saw Senator Alan Peter Cayetano call Senators Jinggoy Estrada and Rodante Marcoleta, along with former lawmaker Mike Defensor, “political prisoners,” my reaction was immediate.

That is a very serious term to use, and I am not convinced it belongs here.

Marcoleta, Estrada, and Defensor have rights as accused persons. They are presumed innocent. They can challenge the charges, question the evidence, seek bail where the law allows it, and demand a fair and timely trial.

I have no problem with Cayetano arguing for due process. He can question the strength of the cases. He can accuse the government of selective prosecution if he has evidence to support that claim. He can demand that courts and prosecutors act fairly.

But calling these men “political prisoners?” That is an insult to people who actually were.

It borrows a term tied to people jailed because of their beliefs, their organizing, their journalism, their activism, their union work, or their opposition to those in power, then places that label on politicians facing corruption-related charges.

What bothers me is not only the label itself. I am starting to notice a political habit that keeps showing up in different forms.

Words once used against abuses of power are now being used by politicians with questionable records and dealings to cosplay as victims of persecution when scrutiny finally catches up with them.

A corruption prosecution becomes political persecution. An accused politician becomes a political prisoner. An investigation becomes weaponization. Then a political coalition aligned with many of the same personalities puts “good governance” and “accountability” in its own name.

At some point, we have to ask what these words still mean.

THE POWER OF CALLING YOURSELF A VICTIM

There is an obvious political advantage in presenting yourself as persecuted.

Once supporters accept that an investigation is mainly an act of revenge, the actual accusation can fade into the background. Questions about money, disclosure, official conduct, and legal responsibility are replaced by a different question: Who is attacking us?

That change helps the accused.

Instead of answering the allegations, the politician becomes the victim. Prosecutors become persecutors. Courts become suspect before they have ruled. The investigation itself is treated as proof that political enemies are afraid.

I am not saying political prosecution is impossible. Of course it is possible.

Governments can abuse criminal law. Prosecutors can be selective. Cases can be timed for political advantage. Powerful institutions can be used against opponents. Philippine history gives us enough reason to be suspicious when state power is used aggressively.

But suspicion still needs evidence.

The fact that a criminal case has political consequences does not automatically mean the case was invented for political reasons. A politician can be an enemy of the government and still have allegations to answer. Both can be true at the same time.

That distinction gets lost when “political prisoner” becomes the default label for every ally facing legal trouble.

WHAT CAYETANO’S WORDS BORROW

The 1987 Constitution says no person shall be detained solely because of political beliefs and aspirations.

That protection came from a country that had already lived through martial law, mass arrests, torture, disappearances, military detention, and punishment directed at people who challenged those in power.

That is the history carried by the phrase “political prisoner.”

KAPATID, an organization of families and friends of political prisoners, rejected Cayetano’s description. Its argument was simple: politicians do not become political prisoners just because they claim political motivation behind their prosecution. The group also warned against using the term to “sanitize corruption.”

Karapatan likewise criticized Cayetano’s statement and pointed to detainees it considers political prisoners whose cases involve allegations of red-tagging, fabricated charges, abuse, or long periods of detention.

The point they are making is about the reason a person loses freedom.

There are detainees whose families have spent years trying to find money for lawyers, medicine, travel, and prison visits. Some were community organizers, activists, peasant leaders, workers, or critics of government. Their families and supporters believe the cases against them were used to punish their political work.

Then there are national politicians with lawyers, allies, media access, public platforms, and the ability to turn their legal cases into national political campaigns.

Power does not automatically mean someone can never be politically persecuted. I do not believe that.

But being powerful does not automatically turn a criminal defendant into a political prisoner either.

The facts have to carry that claim.

THE CASES STILL HAVE TO BE ANSWERED

Estrada faces plunder and graft charges in a case involving alleged illicit payouts connected to a P573-million flood-control project. The Sandiganbayan ordered his arrest in June, and the case remains pending.

Marcoleta and Defensor are co-accused in another case involving alleged P75 million campaign donations received by Marcoleta. The Office of the Ombudsman filed plunder charges against Marcoleta, Defensor, Joseph Espiritu, and Aristotle Viray.

There are also separate allegations involving Presidential Decree No. 46, which prohibits public officials from receiving gifts, and private persons from giving them, under circumstances covered by the law.

These cases may fail in court. Prosecutors may not prove the charges. Evidence can fall apart. Accused persons can be acquitted.

That is how the legal process works.

What I do not accept is the idea that calling the defendants political prisoners somehow answers the allegations.

It does not tell us what happened to the money. It does not answer questions about disclosure. It does not tell us whether prosecutors can prove their case or whether the charges were filed properly.

It changes the subject.

And politically, that can be very useful.

THE DANGER OF MAKING EVERY CASE “PERSECUTION”

There is another problem when politicians keep describing accountability as persecution.

Actual political persecution becomes harder to recognize.

Think about the effect of using the same label for very different situations. A journalist jailed for reporting against a government, an activist arrested after years of red-tagging, and a senator charged in a corruption case can all end up under the same category.

Once that happens, the differences disappear.

Then the public is pushed toward two bad reactions. Either every prosecution involving a politician starts looking like heroic resistance, or real victims of political repression lose some of the language used to describe what happened to them.

I do not think either outcome helps us.

Calling someone a political prisoner is a serious accusation against the state. It means government power was used to punish political belief, expression, association, organizing, or dissent.

That claim should be backed by evidence strong enough to justify the term.

Otherwise, “political prisoner” becomes just another political slogan.

RAGE AND THE POLITICS OF BORROWED WORDS

This is also why I keep looking at the name Reform Alliance for Good Governance and Accountability, or RAGE Coalition, and thinking there is a deeper contradiction here.

RAGE was launched under Davao City Mayor Sebastian Duterte. Its public identity puts reform, good governance, and accountability right in the name. Reports about the coalition described a Duterte-aligned political group promising transparency, accountability, and opposition to corruption.

Ronald dela Rosa also publicly supported the coalition through a recorded message.

There is nothing unusual about politicians promising good governance. Almost everyone in politics says some version of it.

The test comes when scrutiny reaches your own side.

It is easy to demand transparency from an opponent. It is harder when the documents being requested belong to an ally. Accountability sounds good until an investigation threatens someone inside your own camp.

That is where the words either hold up or fall apart.

A coalition that uses good governance and accountability as part of its identity cannot expect those principles to apply only to political enemies. It cannot praise investigations aimed at opponents, then treat similar scrutiny of allies as persecution before the courts have even finished their work.

I am not saying every case filed against a Duterte ally is automatically fair. I am saying the same standard has to apply in both directions.

Look at the evidence. Question the process. Challenge abuse when there is proof of abuse. But do not turn every accused ally into a martyr before the case has even been tested.

Otherwise, “good governance” becomes a political tagline, useful for the stage and meaningless the moment accountability reaches their own side.

Use it often enough that way, and eventually the words themselves lose their meaning.

WHO BENEFITS WHEN LANGUAGE IS REVERSED?

This is the part that bothers me most.

Words once used against abuses of power are now being used by powerful people to defend themselves from institutions meant to examine them.

Human-rights language becomes a defense strategy. Accountability becomes a campaign identity. Persecution becomes a shield against scrutiny.

The political advantage is easy to see.

Once supporters believe their leaders are permanent victims, almost every institution investigating them can be folded into the same story. Prosecutors, judges, legislators, journalists, auditors, and critics can all be presented as part of one attack.

Then evidence has to compete with loyalty.

An accusation against the other side becomes proof of corruption. An accusation against your side becomes proof of persecution.

That is where accountability starts breaking down.

People stop asking whether the allegation is true and start asking which political camp benefits from it.

For anyone who does not want to answer difficult questions, that is a very comfortable place to be.

THE STANDARD SHOULD BE HARDER

Cayetano can argue that Estrada, Marcoleta, and Defensor are being treated unfairly, including that the cases moved with unusual speed or at a politically convenient time.

He can point to procedural problems, political interference, selective prosecution, weak evidence, unequal treatment, or suspicious timing.

But show us.

If state institutions were weaponized, explain how. If the charges were fabricated, identify what was fabricated. If political pressure drove the prosecution, produce the evidence connecting that pressure to the case.

That would be a serious argument.

Calling powerful accused politicians “political prisoners” asks the public to accept the conclusion first.

The same applies to RAGE.

A coalition that places good governance and accountability in its name should be prepared to show what those words mean when its own allies face scrutiny.

Anyone can demand transparency from an enemy. The harder moment comes when transparency becomes uncomfortable for your own side.

I am not asking anyone to assume these men are guilty.

I am asking for something simpler: answer the cases with evidence, defend due process where it is violated, and stop borrowing the language of people who were persecuted for speaking, organizing, writing, protesting, or resisting.

Marcoleta, Estrada, Defensor, and their co-accused deserve fair treatment under the law. If their cases are politically manipulated, that should be exposed. If prosecutors cannot prove the charges, the courts should say so.

Their rights can be defended without changing the meaning of political imprisonment.

And a political coalition can defend its allies without making “good governance” sound like a slogan that only applies to everyone else.

We have spent years talking about politicians controlling institutions.

Maybe we should also pay closer attention when powerful people start trying to control the words we use to judge them.