The nation finds itself caught between two looming spectacles of accountability. In the streets, a massive, three-day rally organized by the Iglesia ni Cristo (INC) is set to bring an estimated 300,000 people per day to the capital. In the halls of power, a storied political veteran is retaking control of the Senate’s most powerful committee, armed with a new “mystery witness” poised to blow a multi-billion-peso scandal wide open.

Both events claim to seek “transparency and accountability,” yet they are pulling the country in vastly different directions, raising profound questions about money, motive, and the very nature of truth in a time of political turmoil.

First, the rally. From November 17th to the 19th, hundreds of thousands of INC members are scheduled to convene. The sheer scale of the event forced a change of venue; organizers, perhaps anticipating the gridlock, wisely moved the gathering from the critical artery of EDSA to the sprawling grounds of Luneta’s Quirino Grandstand. The permit has already been approved.

But beneath the surface of this planned assembly, a current of dissent and suspicion is growing. Sources suggest not all members are in agreement with the rally, and whispers of “pinapahakot,” or people being bussed in with a budget, are swirling. This has led to a stunning financial calculation. Commentators estimate that providing just one basic meal (at a very conservative 150 pesos) to 300,000 attendees for three days would cost a staggering 45 million pesos. If rumors of attendees being paid 500 pesos each are true, the total cost could rocket into the billions.

This massive expenditure comes at a time of national crisis, with victims of a recent catastrophe in Cebu in desperate need of aid. This has sparked a powerful counter-narrative: what if that money was donated instead?

Critics of the rally are not questioning the group’s right to assemble. Rather, they are making a moral and practical plea. A donation of that magnitude, they argue, would be a “perfect opportunity” to demonstrate real compassion, earning the INC the respect and admiration of all Filipinos, regardless of faith. “You would be admired by everyone,” one commentator noted, “not just your own members.”

The rally’s stated purpose of demanding transparency has also raised eyebrows. “The government is already working on that,” skeptics argue, pointing to the ongoing investigations into the flood control anomaly. This has led to uncomfortable questions about the rally’s true motive. Why now, under an administration that is actively pursuing corruption cases? And more pointedly, why was there no such rally during the previous administration, when scandals like Pharmally dominated the headlines?

The timing has stoked fears of a different agenda. President Bongbong Marcos himself recently warned against those “sowing chaos,” referencing past rallies where attendees were found with Molotov cocktails. While organizers insist on a peaceful assembly, the fear of destabilization, however remote, lingers.

In these political showdowns, it is rarely the powerful who suffer. The true cost is paid by the public—in traffic, in disruptions to the economy, and in the massive state resources diverted for security. Police and responders deployed for such events require allowances and logistics—funds that, like the rally’s own budget, could have been diverted to relief operations for countless families.

As this dramatic public plea for accountability prepares to take center stage, a quieter, perhaps more potent, battle for accountability is brewing in the Senate.

Senator Panfilo “Ping” Lacson, a figure synonymous with anti-corruption crusades, is reportedly returning to his former post as chairman of the Blue Ribbon Committee. His return is seen as a move born of necessity, a difficult responsibility that “no one else wanted to accept.” In an institution suffering from plummeting public trust, Lacson’s credibility is seen as a stabilizing force, a stark contrast to “paarte-artista” (actor-like) politicians perceived as being more style than substance.

And Lacson is not returning empty-handed. He is set to preside over a hearing this coming Monday that promises a political explosion. A new “mystery witness” is allegedly in his custody, one who comes bearing “ledgers and records” that could definitively “reverse the fortunes” of powerful figures implicated in the flood control scandal. Speculation is rampant that this witness is either a high-ranking DPWH official or a Congressman from the crucial Committee on Appropriations, someone with direct knowledge of the anomalous fund movements.

This new witness arrives just as the credibility of the previous star witness, Ollie Gutesa, has completely imploded.

The case built around Gutesa, which was championed by Senator Rodante Marcoleta, is now collapsing under a mountain of inconsistencies and bizarre claims. It has been alleged that former Congressman Mike Defensor and Senator Marcoleta himself “helped draft” the very affidavit that Gutesa presented. The process of its creation has been described as a farce, with the group allegedly searching Google for a notary and perhaps settling for a “kanto-kanto” (street corner) service.

Marcoleta had fiercely defended Gutesa as a simple, “ordinary” soldier, but this narrative is disintegrating. The most damning evidence may come from the building’s own security cameras. Marcoleta had claimed Gutesa was a “surprise witness.” However, CCTV footage reportedly shows Gutesa entering Marcoleta’s office at 8:30 PM the night before his testimony and staying for a “long meeting.”

This revelation transforms the narrative from a surprise testimony to a “rehearsal.” It would explain why Senator Marcoleta is now lashing out, accusing Senator Lacson of “spying” on him. The cutting retort from critics? “If you have nothing to hide, who cares if you’re on CCTV?”

The very content of Gutesa’s testimony has become a subject of ridicule. His outlandish claim of 48 luxury “Rimowa” suitcases—each costing upwards of 125,000 pesos—being used to transport cash has been thoroughly debunked. Professionals, critics argue, would use uniform, cheap boxes for easy counting, not designer luggage you plan to give away. His mention of using “Post-it notes” to label the alleged millions, notes that easily fall off, was another detail that screamed improbability.

Gutesa’s last pillar of support—his military background—has also been kicked out from under him. While Senator Bato dela Rosa had insisted Gutesa had credibility because he was a soldier, Colonel Ariel Kerubin, a fellow Marine, has now publicly distanced himself, essentially confirming that Gutesa’s claims about his involvement were untrue.

The nation is now left to watch these two theaters of accountability unfold. One is a massive public spectacle with a billion-peso price tag and deeply suspect motives. The other is a high-stakes legislative drama, complete with a mystery witness, CCTV evidence, and a collapsing conspiracy. As hundreds of thousands prepare to march in Luneta, the real tremor of truth may be the one about to shake the very foundations of the Senate.