?AGONIZING, POINTLESS,’ LACSON WARNS CARPIO, BATONGBACAL ON MARCOLETA DEBATE
Former senator Panfilo Lacson’s recent warning that a proposed public debate involving former senior justice Antonio Carpio, maritime law expert Jay Batongbacal, and lawmaker Rodante Marcoleta would be “agonizing” and “pointless” highlights a deeper unease about how the country conducts its most sensitive policy discussions. At first glance, a public debate on complex issues such as maritime rights, national sovereignty, or international arbitration might seem like a healthy exercise in democratic discourse. Yet Lacson’s skepticism reflects a growing concern that highly technical, security-sensitive, or legally intricate questions are increasingly being channeled into performative arenas rather than carefully managed institutional processes. When personalities and political theater overshadow substance, the risk is that the public is left more confused than informed. This tension between spectacle and substance lies at the heart of the current debate about debates.
The call for such public exchanges arises from a legitimate desire for transparency and accountability. Citizens understandably want to see officials, experts, and advocates defend their positions in a forum that feels accessible and unscripted. However, when the subject matter involves specialized legal frameworks, confidential state assessments, or evolving diplomatic strategies, a televised confrontation can oversimplify what is inherently complex. Nuance is difficult to sustain in a format that rewards sharp soundbites over careful reasoning. In that sense, Lacson’s characterization of the exercise as potentially “pointless” speaks to the fear that the format may be ill-suited to the gravity of the issues at stake.
There is also a broader historical context to consider. In many democracies, public debates have played constructive roles in elections, constitutional referendums, and major policy shifts, especially when the issues are relatively clear-cut and the stakes easily explained. By contrast, topics such as maritime disputes, resource entitlements, and international rulings are layered with technical detail and diplomatic sensitivity. Past experience shows that when such matters are reduced to binary contests in public forums, misinterpretations can be amplified, nationalist sentiment can be inflamed, and room for pragmatic negotiation can shrink. The challenge is not whether the public deserves information—it does—but how that information is responsibly communicated.
The episode also underscores the responsibilities of institutions, not just individuals. Legislatures, courts, and executive agencies exist precisely to deliberate on complex issues with access to full documentation, expert testimony, and classified briefings where necessary. When public debates are framed as substitutes rather than supplements to these processes, they can inadvertently undermine confidence in formal decision-making channels. At the same time, institutions cannot retreat behind closed doors and expect trust to endure. They must find ways to explain their actions in clear, measured terms, using hearings, reports, and structured briefings that privilege clarity over confrontation.
Ultimately, the question raised by Lacson’s warning is less about whether debates should happen and more about what we expect them to achieve. A public forum that clarifies legal principles, outlines policy options, and acknowledges uncertainties can contribute to a more informed citizenry. A spectacle designed primarily to score rhetorical victories, by contrast, may only deepen division and confusion. As the country navigates sensitive issues with long-term implications, the priority should be to match the seriousness of the subject with equally serious formats for discussion. Choosing the right venues and methods for public engagement is not a matter of avoiding debate, but of ensuring that debate serves understanding rather than merely amplifying noise.
