Wazzup Pilipinas!?
The man who built an empire from yelling at the helpless has gone silent—and not in the name of peace, but in service of power.
During one of the most politically explosive moments in recent history—the impeachment trial of Vice President Sara Duterte—Senator Raffy Tulfo, once the most thunderous voice in Philippine media, chose to say nothing. No signature fury. No moral sermon. No justice crusade. Just a quiet vote to send the case back to the House of Representatives.
A technical move. A procedural excuse. A betrayal cloaked in protocol.
This wasn’t the Tulfo the public knew. This wasn’t “Idol Raffy,” the righteous firebrand who berated corrupt officials and abusive bosses on air, day after day. This wasn’t the media warrior who once claimed he would bring “permanent solutions” to Senate halls once infected by political apathy.
Where was that righteous rage now?
Where was that unrelenting tongue that once humiliated janitors, security guards, and desperate citizens live on national television—all in the name of justice?
Because when it finally mattered—when the stakes were no longer a cellphone scam or a barangay spat, but the very soul of the Constitution—Tulfo said… nothing. And with his silence, he didn’t just stall the process. He smothered it.
He helped bury the case.
He once declared:
“Somehow, we have to convene—come what may.”
But when the moment came, when the people needed a convening of conscience, he sided with delay. With the House. With the status quo.
And the people noticed.
“Bat ka nagkaganyan Idol, di ka naman dating ganyan.”
Because he wasn't always like this.
This isn’t evolution. This is erosion.
And it didn’t stop with Raffy. His brother, Erwin Tulfo—journalist-turned-congressman—didn’t sign the impeachment complaint either. His excuse? He wanted to remain “impartial.”
But this is not impartiality. This is political preservation dressed as principle.
When two brothers with national platforms and outsized influence choose coordinated silence during a constitutional crisis, it’s not neutrality—it’s complicity.
How ironic that Raffy Tulfo once quoted President Ramon Magsaysay:
“Those who have less in life should have more in law.”
And yet here he is—shielding the powerful from accountability while the people who believed in him, the people with “less in life,” are left watching a man they once trusted vanish behind the curtains of Senate procedure.
Even his so-called flagship policy, the Anti-Taray Bill, now rings hollow. A bill to punish rude government employees? Admirable in theory. But when faced with real abuse of power at the top, Tulfo gave us nothing. Not even a “taray.” Just dead air.
What kind of senator silences himself when the nation demands courage?
What kind of senator quotes Magsaysay, then bends to Marcos-Duterte power plays?
What kind of Idol trades his principles for a seat at the grown-ups’ table?
Not the senator Filipinos voted for.
And certainly not the man he built his name to be.
In the end, Tulfo’s transformation is not just disappointing. It’s a warning.
That even the loudest voices can be bought into silence.
That justice warriors can turn into gatekeepers.
That idols fall—not in noise, but in silence.
And that the people?
They never forget who went quiet when it mattered most.
Ross is known as the Pambansang Blogger ng Pilipinas - An Information and Communication Technology (ICT) Professional by profession and a Social Media Evangelist by heart.
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