The Irony of the Iron Fist

‎There is a particular kind of poetic justice in the Filipino idiom "ginigisa sa sariling mantika", meaning to be fried in one’s own lard. It captures poetic justice: oppressors fried in their own logic. Today, as the International Criminal Court (ICC) proceedings loom over former President Rodrigo Duterte, the man who once roared with bold and straightforward bravado is now whispering through a legal team about technicalities and frail health. The transition from a leader who dismissed legal restraint to a defendant relying on legal protection.

During Duterte's presidency, law was weaponized against "drug addicts", most of them belonging to the poor. The chain of events escalated after then-President Duterte and PNP Chief Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa adopted "neutralization" in official documents, such as Command Memorandum Circular No. 16-2016. This circular outlined guidelines for the PNP's "Project Double Barrel," aimed at supporting the government's Barangay Drug Clearing Strategy and neutralizing drug personalities nationwide. Human rights groups estimate the campaign claimed 12,000 to 30,000 lives and one notable example is the case of Kian Delos Santos. On August 16, 2017, police in Caloocan killed 17-year-old Kian delos Santos, whom they accused of drug dealing. CCTV footage showed officers dragging him, contradicting their account that he resisted and drew a gun. The case provoked widespread attention and scrutiny to police narratives during former President Duterte's anti-drug campaign, also known as ”Oplan Tokhang.”

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‎The archives do not lie. During his presidency, he repeatedly issued threats that no democratic leader should make. In the merits of the case submitted by the ICC prosecution, this was cited as reference for Duterte's bold speech about the policy. In March 2017, Duterte made a bold statement in his Presidential Speech: “I will kill you…That is the only formula that worked in my city." Meanwhile, during a 2015 meeting on peace and order in Davao City, Duterte—who was the mayor back then—gave drug dealers in the city’s Boulevard a 48-hour deadline before vowing to kill them. 

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‎He was bold and straightforward, challenging human rights advocates and even threatening to kick the judges who dared to interfere with his crusade.‎ Duterte even joked about the situation, suggesting that if human rights groups wanted him to stop, he would only do so to let the numbers grow so there would be more people to kill during harvest time. “Sabi ng human rights, pinapatay ko raw, kaya sabi ko, 'Sige maghinto tayo’t paramihin natin para panahon ng harvest time mas madami na tuloy mamamatay," Duterte said on November 28, 2016. “Isali ko na kayo kasi kayo ang nagpalaki eh."

‎He was fearless then, but the question was always: how far would this facade last?

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‎That fearless facade seems to have reached its expiration date. Now facing proceedings in ICC, the tone has changed dramatically. Following his arrest, his defense team and political allies, including Senator Imee Marcos, a vocal supporter of the Duterte family, have invoked technicalities to challenge the court's jurisdiction, claiming the Philippines withdrew from the Rome Statute in 2019. However, the ICC has ruled it retains authority over crimes committed during the country's membership. 

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‎His lawyers also have filed disqualification pleas against judges like Reine Adélaïde Sophie Alapini-Gansou and María del Socorro Flores Liera, alleging they are not impartial. However, all 18 ICC judges dismissed the plea, finding no evidence of actual or reasonable bias concerns regarding the two judges.

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‎Most ironically, the man who once boasted of his strength now claims through his defense team that he is in frail health and unfit to take part in legal proceedings—a tactic frequently employed by defendants in international courts to challenge trial conditions or secure delays. They have even made urgent requests for interim release. As prosecution lawyers like Julian Nicholls and victims' counsel Paolina Massidda have noted, if Duterte cannot hide his contempt for the court while in detention, it would be nearly impossible to ensure he attends hearings if he were released. The victims fear that his release would put their security and well-being in danger, fearing reprisals from a man who once ruled with an iron fist.

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‎The irony extends deeply into his most loyal supporters, the Die-hard Duterte Supporters or DDS. The DDS mindset is built on a double standard. They once argued that criminals did not deserve rights, yet now that their idol is the one under investigation, they demand human rights and strict legal processes. For years, they cheered when Duterte questioned the humanity of drug users, famously telling people to use human rights properly only if they had the brains. They hailed and often portraying him online as a vigilante figure similar to Batman, a dark knight who bloodied his hands to purge evil from the country. This exclusive mindset doesn't sit right. 

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‎This contradiction exposes a deeper flaw in authoritarian politics, exposing how such regimes prioritize "their side" over consistent justice. When people see laws applied unfairly just for "one side" they lose trust in the system. This leads to two big problems: people stop caring about politics and laws or get drawn to extreme views, making society more divided instead of fixing issues together. As a result, the DDS justified his actions as a sacrifice for the greater good, even when those actions were morally gray or outright illegal.

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‎Do the outcomes justify the means?

‎Ends-justify-means logic excuses abuses, normalizing state violence over accountability.  While the DDS credit Duterte's drug war with slashing crime stats short-term, the toll of thousands killed extrajudicially, injustices, and human rights violations, outweighs gains.

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‎Now, Duterte himself faces accountability at the ICC. This is the ultimate irony: the man who unleashed “Oplan Tokhang” through the PNP—by evading due process to “neutralize” drug addicts and dismissing human rights as weakness for victims—now pleads the same protections before the court and the victim’s families.

The solution is clear: hold him fully accountable to deliver the justice long denied. Because at the end of day, still, no one stands above the law.

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Article: Mark Joseph Chavez

Illustrations: Simone Emmanuel Sampani