The rise of Rodrigo Duterte in 2016 marked a dark shift—his so-called War on Drugs unleashed a brutal, government-backed force without precedent. Sold as a quick fix to crime and drug abuse, it instead turned into unchecked killings that bypassed the legal system. People didn’t get safety, they got fear. Behind promises of order lay a broken sense of justice. This isn’t just about bad choices; it’s systemic failure, to the point where the International Criminal Court (ICC) had to step in when local powers wouldn’t. Now, survivors’ hope rests on global action, while those behind the plan face uncertain fates.

The so-called drug war narrative, where cops claim suspects died because they fought back, collapses when you see how often it happened. While police insist only thousands were killed, groups like Rappler and human rights watchers believe the real number of extrajudicial killings (EJK) is way higher. That gap isn’t just bad policing; it hints at a planned strategy that skipped legal safeguards on purpose. Led by ex-police chief and senator Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa, who called the operation a divine duty, the push gave officers and shadow enforcers free rein to act without answer. This setup flopped right away—governments are supposed to handle force without going lethal.

Violence didn’t fix real problems like addiction or poverty; instead, it shifted pain from those in charge onto people already struggling the most.

The broken justice system hasn’t held anyone accountable—that’s what makes this situation so tragic, and why the ICC must act. Philippine law follows complementarity: the ICC gets involved if the country won’t or can’t handle serious crime cases. After pulling out of the Rome Statute in 2019, and with no real investigations leading to convictions, the absence of political will was clear. So when the ICC restarted its probe into crimes against humanity, that wasn’t undermining national control—it was a rescue move for victims locked out of their own courts. To grieving families wanting answers, the court isn’t optional; it’s the last shot at uncovering facts, making people answerable, stopping repeat horrors, while pressuring leaders who’ve gone too far.

The ICC’s current probe looms heavily over Duterte’s top supporters—those who spoke loud and stood strong. Not just bystanders, these figures played active roles, defending policies while holding crucial posts. Their paths ahead hinge completely on how the legal case unfolds from here. Dela Rosa, who led the police during the bloodiest part of the drug war, is likely the one most at risk. When questioned in the Senate, he still backed the operation, putting him right in the spotlight for possible accountability over orders tied to widespread killings. What happens next could determine not just his career but possibly his freedom, depending on ICC findings. Senator Bong Go stuck close to Duterte for years, part of his tight-knit team. Not directly running operations, but being that close meant he likely knew what was going down, even if choosing to turn a blind eye. Staying in power now depends on smart moves, stepping away from the bloody aftermath of the crackdown. That’s tough, though, since most people still see him as Duterte’s right-hand man. Harry Roque, former Press Secretary, acted as both lawyer and image protector, using sharp and sometimes divisive language to question the ICC’s jurisdiction. Though his job was politics and messaging, he framed legal points meant to justify dodging scrutiny. What happens next for him won’t hinge on charges or trials, but on what people believe once the ICC delivers its conclusions: truths that might clash hard with his earlier claims. The future of these people could show how strong the Philippines’ politics really are. Do they get punished based on what they did, or do connections protect them? External pressure from the ICC might break through local roadblocks.

The answer to the drug war mess comes in two parts: pressure from outside and big changes at home. First, Manila plays ball with the ICC, no strings attached, letting them see proof, talk to people, check files. Not as surrender, just doing what’s right. Locally, the country must stop relying on harsh crackdowns and start seeing drug addiction as a health issue. That means putting real money into local recovery clinics, job initiatives to fight poverty tied to drugs, and also fixing how police and justice officers are trained. What we need are law enforcers who solve crimes without becoming the criminals themselves. 

The aim? Shift from letting abuses slide toward actually holding people responsible, so no leader can treat civilians as targets instead of members of society deserving safety. True justice takes time, but with guidance from the ICC, the route forward exists; now Manila just has to take the first step.

Originally published in Heraldo Filipino Volume 40, Issue 1.