House Marcos 2 now deeply fractured: New game ahead

TWO years to the end of his term as president, Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s camp is now deeply fractured, with the biggest faction led by his cousin former House speaker Martin Romualdez breaking away from him, not even threatening to expose his corruption.

While not giving details, sources confirmed this tectonic change in the country’s political landscape, which Romualdez’s 1,800-word statement released through his Facebook account and other venues also pointed to.

Romualdez had been mulling the decision for several months, as he was unable to even get to talk to Marcos to argue that he wasn’t involved in the ghost flood projects scam, much less debunk the widespread perception that he was its mastermind. Romualdez got a hint that Marcos suspected him to be so when in a meeting of a small group, the president blurted out, without specifying names: “I don’t have funds for my critical projects because you guys walked away with billions of pesos!”

What convinced Romualdez to break away from Marcos was Ombudsman Jesus Crispin Remulla’s disclosure in a press briefing two weeks ago that his office would soon be filing plunder charges against him as well as senators Francis Escudero, Jinggoy Estrada, Bong Revilla and Joel Villanueva — backed by the report of the Blue Ribbon Committee headed by Sen. Panfilo Lacson, which however still hasn’t been released.

Romualdez concluded — correctly I would say — that Marcos intends to walk away from his complicity in the flood control scam by having the Ombudsman blame Romualdez mainly for the crime, which could also satisfy the public’s clamor for accountability for it.

Romualdez expressed this likelihood in his statement: “To those who think they can throw me under the bus to save themselves, this is what I have to say to you. I am ready to defend my name.” Only Marcos obviously is in a position to throw him “under the bus.”

Terrified

Marcos has become so terrified of the prospect that Vice President Sara Duterte will succeed him in 2028, as most legitimate polls point to. Because of what he did to Sara’s father, former president Rodrigo Duterte — surrender him to the International Criminal Court (ICC) which will keep him in jail for at least three years, the average number of years the ICC has undertaken trials — Marcos is convinced that a Sara presidency will put him, his wife Lisa Araneta and even his son Sandro in jail.

He therefore has to stop Sara from being president, and indeed he is now undertaking an intense, expensive campaign for the Senate to impeach her, the main penalty being to ban her from holding any public office, even the presidency of course.

Marcos has a new game. He has struck a deal with the Remullas for either Local Government Secretary Jonvic or his elder brother “Boying” to be his candidate in the 2028 elections. He and the Remullas think that the prestige they are building up — Jonvic for running the police and disciplining local governments, and Boying for prosecuting the corrupt, especially those involved in the flood control scam — will be enough to defeat Sara, who would be drowning in allegations of corruption if she isn’t impeached.

Romualdez’s prosecution and jailing could catapult a Remulla to the presidency, Marcos reportedly estimates. The catch, however, is that Romualdez suspects such a plan is afoot and would strike back at his cousin. Indeed, his statement had a sentence that was practically a threat to Marcos. “I will not be the fall guy for other people’s corruption. I have been in public life long enough. I have seen enough. I have heard enough. I know many things about this current administration and past administrations as well.”

Romualdez statement is a political signal — sharp, unmistakable, and, if one reads between the lines, explosive. It reads less like a routine rebuttal of corruption allegations than a declaration that he is no longer willing to take the fall for a system that he now believes has abandoned him.

Rarely

In Philippine politics, such statements are rarely accidental. They are messages — coded, calibrated and directed at an audience that understands the subtext. And the subtext here points to one thing: a rupture within the ruling clan.

Romualdez began his statement with what appears to be restraint: “For a long time I chose to remain silent… because I believed… the truth would eventually speak for itself.” But the tone quickly shifts. Silence, he says, “has been abused and weaponized to build a narrative that is false, twisted and unfair.”

It is not the language of a loyal ally defending the administration. That is the language of a man who feels he has been set up. And then comes the line that should send shock waves through Malacañang: “I will not go quietly, and I will not go alone.”

Marcos Jr. and Romualdez are not just political allies. They are cousins — the core of what has been portrayed as a unified ruling bloc. For months, that image of unity has been projected to the public: a stable leadership, a coordinated administration, a clan firmly in control.

Romualdez’s statement shatters that image. Because no loyal subordinate speaks the way he just did. No ally warns that he “knows many things about this current administration” unless he is signaling that he is prepared to use that knowledge. No insider declares he will not be the “fall guy” unless he believes someone is trying to make him one.

Mastermind

Romualdez in his statement carefully lays out his argument that he could not have been the “mastermind” of the alleged corruption scheme, pointing to the collective nature of the budget process: “The national budget is not the act of one person… It is a product of a constitutional chain involving the executive, the House and the Senate.”

On the surface, this is a technical explanation. In reality, it is something else entirely: it is the shifting of responsibility away from himself and toward the broader system — particularly the presidency.

He makes that point even more explicitly: “Command responsibility is far more logically relevant in the executive branch… where there is actually supervision, operational control and implementation on the ground.”

That is as close as one can get, without naming names, to pointing a finger at Malacañang.

The message is clear, coming from an insider, a participant even: “If there was corruption, it did not originate in Congress alone. It happened where projects were implemented — under the executive’s watch.”

And then Romualdez escalates further, naming individuals involved in budget decisions and hinting at selective accountability. He warns against “politically engineered and fabricated narratives,” and speaks of efforts to “weaponize individuals… to construct a narrative that serves their own interests.”

Cohesion

In Philippine politics, power is sustained not just by formal institutions but by clan cohesion — the perception that those at the top are united. Once that perception cracks, the entire structure becomes vulnerable. Allies begin to hedge. Rivals sense opportunity. The political equilibrium shifts.

Romualdez’s statement points to a deep crack, an unrepairable fracture in what has been presented as an unbreakable alliance.

The most revealing part of the statement, however, is not the technical defense, nor even the implicit finger-pointing. It is the emotional tone: a mixture of defiance and grievance. He speaks of being targeted, of narratives being built against him.

“I will not allow myself to be turned into the scapegoat so that others who are actually accountable can walk away clean.”

That is not the voice of a man who feels protected by his allies. That is the voice of someone who believes he has been abandoned.

And in Philippine politics, abandonment within a ruling clan is often the prelude to open conflict.

Romualdez is effectively saying: If you push me out, I will take others with me.

Pressures

This is where the broader implications become clear. The administration is already facing multiple pressures — the oil and overall economic crisis, political rivalries and the looming question of succession. A fracture at the very top adds a new dimension of instability.

Because once the perception takes hold that the ruling clan is divided, everything changes.

Legislators begin to reposition themselves. Bureaucrats hedge their loyalties. Political operators look for new alignments. The narrative of control — so crucial to maintaining authority — begins to unravel. And Romualdez, with a single statement, has introduced that possibility. Rats don’t just leave a sinking ship, they board another.

Romualdez’s move is therefore both defensive and strategic. He is defending himself, yes — but he is also signaling that he is not politically finished, that he has leverage, that he is prepared to escalate if necessary. In effect, he is drawing a line.

Once a senior figure declares he will not “go alone,” once he hints at what he knows about the administration, the dynamic changes irreversibly. This is no longer a story about allegations of corruption. It is a story about power, loyalty and the fragile bonds that hold a ruling clan together. Romualdez’s statement suggests those bonds are weakening, fracturing the ruling faction — a moment when a key figure decides that loyalty is no longer reciprocated, that silence is no longer protection, and that survival requires going on the offensive.

Note: Romualdez statement as an annex to this column at rigobertotiglao.com

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House Marcos 2 now deeply fractured: New game ahead
Source: Breaking News PH