Former President Rodrigo Duterte never gave his victims a day in court. Now, he is facing one himself. So, why the indignation?
Last February 10, the International Criminal Court (ICC) applied for an arrest warrant against Duterte for crimes against humanity—including murder, torture, and rape—committed under his infamous “war on drugs,” naming him an indirect co-perpetrator. The International Criminal Police Organization then transmitted the warrant to Philippine authorities, who complied by arresting him on March 11. Two days after, he appeared in a video link before the ICC’s Pre-Trial Chamber I, with his confirmation of charges hearing set for September 23. Until then, Duterte remains in detention at The Hague in the Netherlands.
Filipinos are at odds over this. Duterte’s supporters accuse the ICC of “overstepping,” dismissing the case as “pro-adik propaganda,” while his critics see this as a long-overdue reckoning. Some senators even threaten to sever ties with international legal bodies, while others demand complete accountability.
But let’s be clear: For years, Duterte justified the killing of suspected drug users and dealers, notably saying at the start of his presidency, “I don’t care about human rights, believe me.” During his drug war, mere suspicion was enough reason to warrant a death sentence—no trial, no evidence, and no due process.
Now that he faces prosecution at the ICC, his supporters insist that he, of all people, deserves fairness and legal protection.
And they’re right. Duterte does deserve due process—just as every Filipino does. The man who sneered at human rights now clings to them. That’s exactly what the ICC is offering him.
The ICC is not a foreign body meddling in Philippine affairs; it is a court of last resort that holds individuals accountable for genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity when domestic systems are unable or unwilling to do so. The Duterte administration refused to investigate thousands of extrajudicial killings (EJKs). While official records count 6,252 drug war-related deaths, human rights groups estimate a far higher toll. Despite numerous testimonies and revelations of state-sponsored killings, those cases were often junked or fabricated, all while complicit officials were protected. Our government had every opportunity to prosecute those responsible. But with justice denied at home, the ICC had no choice but to step in.
And no, the Philippines’ withdrawal from the ICC in 2019 cannot help Duterte evade prosecution. Under Article 127 of the Rome Statute, a country’s withdrawal does not nullify any proceedings that began before the exit became official. The ICC’s preliminary examination into Duterte’s drug war started in 2018, which means the case remains valid. His administration’s decision to leave the ICC was an attempt to evade scrutiny. But the joke’s on Duterte, membership status doesn’t erase past legal obligations.
What’s most infuriating is how his defenders frame this as a choice between justice for EJK victims and justice for those harmed by drug users. This is a false dichotomy. Justice does not operate on selective sympathy. We don’t have to choose or compete because both matter. The legal system should protect everyone—not just those in power, not just those victimized by people with an addiction, and certainly not just those whom the government deems “deserving.”
Demanding Tatay Digong’s accountability does not excuse criminals, nor does it mean only EJK victims deserve justice. The war on drugs created a system where mere suspicion was enough to justify execution. Thousands were killed without trial, evidence, or a mere chance to defend themselves. So, it shouldn’t even be up for debate that Duterte, like any accused individual, must answer to the law.
And if it isn’t already clear to the supporters: Duterte is not automatically guilty. He will have his day in court, with legal representation and the presumption of innocence. This isn’t unfair; this is justice long overdue. His fate won’t be decided by a gunman in the dark, but through the rule of law, before esteemed judges at The Hague.
And that’s far more justice than his victims ever got.
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s March 2025 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSMarch2025.
