Wazzup Pilipinas!?
On May 17, 2025, Vice President Sara Duterte sat before the press in Davao City and uttered a phrase that would define the latest—and perhaps most dangerous—act in her increasingly erratic political career:
“I TRULY WANT AN IMPEACHMENT TRIAL BECAUSE I WANT A BLOODBATH!”
No clarification. No nuance. Just a violent, unfiltered provocation broadcast live. The words reverberated across the country, igniting backlash not just for their ferocity, but for what they exposed: a Vice President teetering on the edge of incitement while facing explosive charges—graft, betrayal of public trust, and the alleged orchestration of a plot to assassinate President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., First Lady Liza Araneta-Marcos, and Speaker Martin Romualdez.
This was no metaphorical flourish in a policy speech. This was not a figure of speech gone awry. This was a calculated detonation.
And make no mistake—Filipinos heard it loud and clear.
A Dangerous Turn in the Drama
The image of Sara Duterte calling for a “bloodbath” as she stares down impeachment was no mere hyperbole. It was a dog whistle to her base, a deliberate challenge to democratic oversight, and perhaps a forewarning of the kind of chaos she’s willing to embrace.
But just two weeks later, in the Dutch city of The Hague—thousands of miles from Philippine soil—Sara changed her tune. Gone was the battle cry. In its place:
“It’s a persecution, some sort of crucifixion. And so, when there’s a crucifixion, there’s blood. So, it’s a bloodbath—my bloodbath.”
With one dramatic pivot, Sara Duterte went from bloodthirsty warrior to bleeding martyr. From instigator to victim. From menace to misunderstood messiah.
Welcome to the Sara Saltik show—equal parts political spectacle, psychological maneuvering, and rhetorical shape-shifting.
The Anatomy of a Retreat
This isn’t just a political backpedal—it’s a textbook case of rhetorical retreat:
Step One: Shock and Awe. Unleash a brazenly aggressive statement to fire up loyalists and strike fear into critics.
Step Two: Play the Martyr. When backlash hits, claim you were speaking “metaphorically,” invoke religious imagery, and position yourself as the sacrificial lamb.
Step Three: Discredit the Process. Frame the constitutional process of impeachment as “persecution,” delegitimize critics as political actors, and cast accountability as a witch hunt.
It’s a classic authoritarian playbook. And we’ve seen it before.
Grandiosity, Paranoia, and Emotional Manipulation
Sara Duterte’s pattern fits the well-documented psychological behavior of strongman politicians. It begins with grandiosity—wherein her words are untouchable, her cause divine, her power absolute. Then comes the paranoia—where any probe is a conspiracy, any criticism is treason. Finally, it escalates into contradictory emotional whiplash—one moment a fist raised in fury, the next, tears on the cross.
This is not a clinical disorder. This is political performance art. It is manipulation by design, meant to confuse, divide, and derail. It’s not madness—it’s strategy.
By reframing the legal proceedings as her “crucifixion,” Sara seeks to derail the seriousness of the charges. She cheapens the gravity of impeachment by wrapping herself in divine symbolism, hoping to convert legal scrutiny into emotional solidarity from her political cult.
But this is no Golgotha. This is the Philippine Senate, and it is long overdue that it be treated with the dignity its constitutional duty demands.
When Power Turns Theatrics Into Threat
Here lies the real danger: when leaders with real power reduce solemn constitutional processes into operatic theater, the rule of law suffers. When metaphors of war and martyrdom dominate our political discourse, oversight becomes persecution, and justice becomes a stage for grandstanding.
Words matter. When Sara Duterte recklessly brandishes terms like “bloodbath”, the chilling effects are not limited to the abstract. They reverberate through institutions. They embolden radicals. They corrode public trust.
And when she later pleads that it was all a misunderstanding? It’s not repentance—it’s a rehearsed second act.
The Senate Must Rise, Not Bow
Let us be absolutely clear: this is not a crucifixion. This is a constitutional process, with mechanisms meant to preserve the integrity of the Republic, not destroy its leaders. Sara Duterte does not get to write the script, choose her costume, and direct the lighting.
She is not the savior, nor is she the victim. She is the accused—and she must answer before the law.
The Senate must rise above the melodrama. It must cut through the noise, the tears, the theater. Because what’s on trial is not merely a Vice President. What’s on trial is our collective ability to hold power accountable, even when it performs martyrdom before the cameras.
Sara Duterte cannot demand blood, then ask for bandages. She cannot wield violent words, then retreat into religious metaphors. She cannot call for a war, then collapse into a wounded plea for pity.
This is not her crucifixion.
This is her reckoning.
And it is long overdue.
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.
.jpg)
