‘What makes this moment more troubling is that the delay is not happening in the shadows. It is playing out in full view of a people who are weary of impunity and wary of institutions that no longer seem to serve them.’
THE Senate has stepped into the impeachment arena only to sidestep its constitutional duty, a move veiled in legal formality as the nation waits for clarity, courage, and conviction.
This is no act of prudence. It is the bastardization of the Constitution — a distortion of the Senate’s mandate to judge, not to evade. The framers envisioned an impeachment court that would rise above politics and answer only to the higher cause of accountability. What the country sees instead is a chamber in retreat, wrapped in process but paralyzed by self-preservation.
This isn’t caution. It is a badly choreographed dance — performed by men and women in crimson robes, swaying not to the rhythm of justice but to the discordant tune of political allegiance. And the public, far from being passive observers, now recognize the routine. It is not the choreography of integrity, but the familiar pattern of avoidance dressed in ceremonial solemnity.
There was a time when the Senate was seen as the last institutional guardrail, the constitutional conscience of the Republic. That time feels distant, even lost. The decision to stall — to deliberate over what is already clearly within its jurisdiction — reflects not thoughtfulness but timidity. It weakens the Senate’s stature and emboldens the notion that powerful positions shield their holders from the reach of the law.
The articles of impeachment transmitted by the House of Representatives are no longer just a test of one official. They have become a test of the Senate’s character. Will it uphold its role as the nation’s court of last political resort? Or will it allow partisan calculation to chip away at the very architecture of our checks and balances?
By halting the process, the Senate does not project wisdom. It signals weakness. The message it sends is dangerous: that constitutional accountability can be delayed, diluted, or denied — if the accused is powerful enough, or the political cost too high.
What makes this moment more troubling is that the delay is not happening in the shadows. It is playing out in full view of a people who are weary of impunity and wary of institutions that no longer seem to serve them. If this is accountability, it’s being danced around — and the nation sees the choreography for what it is.
This is not chaos in the chamber. It is silence in the gallery — the sound of a nation holding its breath as the Senate fumbles its part in a constitutional score it once vowed to perform with honor. The longer this silence lasts, the louder the betrayal will echo.
Because in the end, constitutional betrayal is tantamount to a people betrayed.
