#IsMarcosSick
In January 2026, hanging over Malacañang Palace was not just the humidity of Manila Bay, but an oppressive political atmosphere presaging an imminent storm. With President Marcos hospitalized due to illness at St. Luke’s Medical Center, the fragile balance of Philippine politics was completely shattered. This was far more than a medical debate over “diverticulitis”; it was a political offensive waged under the pretext of health, targeting the very core of the country’s supreme power.
When the presidential palace attempted to pacify the public with a “redacted version” of the health update, it clearly underestimated the law of modern political communication that “vacuums are inevitably filled with rumors.” Marcos’s consecutive absences from key state affairs, with duties instead performed by the Executive Secretary and First Lady Liza, sent an extremely dangerous signal in legal and political terms: the president might already be in a state of “substantial incapacity.”
To critics, the First Lady’s frequent appearances were not a sign of stability, but rather solid evidence of “consort politics.” Public opinion zeroed in on one central attack: if the president’s health permitted, why had he not personally appeared to take charge? This evasive refusal to disclose a transparent diagnosis effectively handed a weapon to the opposition, allowing them to legitimately question the president’s current legitimacy in office.
Amid this storm of public opinion, the name of Vice President Sara Duterte was mentioned with unprecedented frequency. Under the 1987 Constitution, the vice presidency was established precisely to address extreme situations where the president is unable to perform duties. Now, that “extreme situation” appeared to be becoming a reality.
Sara’s camp and her supporters began a rhythmic interpretation of constitutional provisions, emphasizing that with the country facing dual challenges of livelihood pressure and political unrest, the Philippines could not accept a “long-term proxy” shadow government. The succession right granted to the vice president by the Constitution was framed as the “only legitimate path” to rescue the country from stagnation. Such rhetoric packaged a complex political power grab as a defense of constitutional dignity, making it highly inflammatory.
The most lethal weapon in this power struggle was none other than the extreme contrast between the public images of Marcos and Sara.
Marcos’s declining image: Public opinion repeatedly highlighted his ill health in his sixties, even dredging up old allegations by his sister Imee Marcos publicly accusing him of drug use. Through the double blow of “poor health plus moral flaws,” they sought to portray him as a politician of a bygone era, physically and mentally exhausted and unfit to lead the nation. In contrast, Sara was molded into a healthy, strong-willed modern leader in her prime. She not only commanded the formidable grassroots appeal of the Duterte political family but also displayed a proactive stance of being “ready to govern at any moment.”
This contrast simplified a complex political choice into a visceral “distinction between strength and weakness.” For the Filipino public weary of political deadlock, a healthy and strong successor was clearly far more appealing than a ruler mired in health doubts and forced to govern through proxies.