Political persecution? When the powerful play victim

“Political persecution.”

This is the new buzzword of politicians and their defenders to explain why they face charges of plunder, graft, corruption and even mass killings, and why the full force of the law is suddenly being brought to bear against them.

To hear them tell it, investigations are nothing more than harassment and fishing expeditions. Charges are politically motivated and fabricated. Some fashion themselves as “political prisoners,” recasting imprisonment as oppression. Others evade the law altogether, whether by living the life of a fugitive or conveniently finding themselves abroad on supposedly medical grounds.

It seems we are expected to believe that they are the political heirs of Nelson Mandela, imprisoned for fighting apartheid; the martyred senator Ninoy Aquino Jr., imprisoned, exiled and ultimately assassinated on an airport tarmac; ML Rep. Leila de Lima, unjustly imprisoned by the Duterte regime or the countless human rights and democracy defenders who confronted oppressive governments and suffered state repression for doing so.

And who exactly are these supposed victims of political persecution?

There is Sen. Jinggoy Estrada, thrice charged with plunder and thrice landing in jail in just 25 years.

Sen. Rodante Marcoleta, who led the charge to revoke ABS-CBN’s franchise and undermine press freedom and who is now behind bars on plunder charges after admitting to the non-reporting of P75 million in so-called campaign donations.

Sen. Alan Peter Cayetano, the self-appointed ambassador of Jesus Christ, whose political bailiwick of Taguig is now at the center of accusations of anomalous and ghost projects. And his sister, Sen. Pia Cayetano, who recently distinguished herself by allegedly spreading fake news through a spliced video of Akbayan Rep. Chel Diokno.

Then there is Duterte loyalist Apollo Quiboloy, another self-appointed son of God, detained and accused of rape and sex trafficking, and sought by the US government for extradition over similar crimes.

And who could forget accused mass murderer Sen. Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa, now an international fugitive, hiding under some rock and trying to evade an ICC warrant?

Of course, there is the mother-and-son tandem of Sen. Loren Legarda and Batangas Rep. Leandro Leviste, the “solar Madonna and Child,” as a friend calls them, heaven-sent to save the environment, if you believe their chief defender. They conveniently left the country as the ombudsman began investigating plunder and graft allegations involving their multibillion-peso solar energy projects.

And yes, the most “persecuted” of them all: twice-impeached Vice President Sara Duterte, whose impeachment trial has placed under scrutiny her alleged misuse of millions in confidential funds and unexplained wealth, including her multibillion-peso bank records.

We are now supposed to believe that they are victims of political persecution?

What a load of crap.

Political persecution is what happens when people, usually those outside of power, are punished by the state for their political beliefs, dissent or opposition to those who wield power. It is what happens when the state machinery is weaponized against people who organize the grassroots, defend human rights, expose abuses, oppose dictatorships, demand democratic freedoms or simply speak truth to governments that would rather silence them.

Sure. People in positions of power can also be persecuted for their political beliefs, especially during elite conflict. But holding a different political belief is not the same as holding the belief that one can loot the nation’s coffers or commit grave human rights violations and suffer no consequences.

But let us play along. Let us assume, for a moment, that they are indeed victims of political persecution. I offer a three-question test.

First: Where are the human rights groups?

Where are the domestic and international human rights organizations lining up to support these supposed victims of political persecution?

How come these groups that have spent decades documenting and opposing political repression and attacks on democratic freedoms are not exactly rushing to defend them?

And while we are at it, where are the environmental groups defending Loren and her son, if their controversial solar projects are indeed the innovative green triumphs their defender claims them to be?

Second: Where were they when power was actually abusing the powerless?

Where were they during the dark years of the Duterte regime, when thousands of mostly poor Filipinos were killed in the name of a fake drug war? Where were they when journalists were attacked? Where were they when democratic institutions were weakened?

It is difficult to claim the mantle of the persecuted when one remained silent, or complicit, while the truly powerless were the ones being abused.

Third: Who actually holds and abuses power?

A political dissident fighting an abuse of power is one thing. A sitting vice president, senator, congressman or political dynasty facing investigation is another. The fact that the law is finally reaching the powerful does not, by itself, make them victims of political persecution.

There is a fundamental difference between being punished for opposing power and being held accountable because you wielded and abused it.

Political persecution is not a costume that powerful people can put on whenever accountability comes knocking at their doors. It is not a magic word that transforms a plunderer, mass murderer or sex trafficker into Mandela or Ninoy. It is not a green ribbon that turns corrupt projects into innovative enterprises.

Political persecution is real. Its victims and history are real. It is the story of the brave citizen jailed because she challenged an authoritarian regime. The journalist harassed because she reported the truth. The human rights advocate arrested because he documented abuses.

These are the people whose bravery, heroism and suffering give “political persecution” its truest meaning.

Let us not dishonor them by allowing the powerful to play the victim and use the language of persecution to evade justice and accountability.