As I read today’s Philippine Daily Inquirer headline, “From ‘Tokhang’ to The Hague: Duterte handed over to ICC,” I found myself pausing—not out of surprise, but in solemn reflection. This is a momentous day for our nation. The arrest and transfer of former President Rodrigo Duterte to the International Criminal Court (ICC) signifies more than just a legal milestone. It marks a profound shift in our collective conscience—from a time when extrajudicial killings became normalized under a brutal “war on drugs,” to a moment of reckoning before an international tribunal. It is the beginning of an accounting long delayed, yet urgently needed. As a justice-based peacebuilding worker and a follower of Jesus of Nazareth, I do not see this event merely through the lens of legality. I see it as a moral and ethical crossroads for the Filipino people. This is a test of our commitment to truth, justice, and accountability—not only for the powerless, but now, remarkably, for the once-powerful.
No one is above the law
Rodrigo Duterte’s administration launched “Oplan Tokhang” in 2016. According to official government data, over 6,000 individuals were killed in police operations by 2022. However, human rights groups estimate the actual number of deaths may be between 20,000 and 30,000, including many summary executions of suspected drug users and small-time pushers—most of them from impoverished communities.
The term Tokhang—a blend of the Visayan words toktok (to knock) and hangyo (to plead)—was twisted into a euphemism for state-sanctioned terror. Families were shattered. Children were orphaned. Justice seemed like a foreign word. For too long, the rule of law was suspended in favor of a culture of impunity.
Now, the same man who once ordered these killings with impunity is being held to account in a court of law. Whether or not he is eventually convicted by the ICC, the fact that he is being arraigned under international criminal jurisdiction sends a powerful message: No one is above the law.
But this is not only about Duterte.
- We are challenged as a people:
- Will we apply justice fairly, not selectively?
- Will we ensure due process not only for the accused former president, but also for the thousands who were denied it under his command?
- Will we uphold a justice system rooted in principle, consistency, and restoration—not political convenience?
Assessing our nation’s deeper historical wounds.
Consider the Marcos dictatorship. Under martial law (1972–1986), over 70,000 were imprisoned, 34,000 tortured, and 3,240 killed, according to Amnesty International. The Marcoses plundered an estimated $10 billion in public wealth, according to the Presidential Commission on Good Government (PCGG). To this day, less than half of these stolen funds have been recovered according to Rappler.
Despite these atrocities, historical distortion and social media disinformation have fueled the political rehabilitation of the Marcos family. This tells us: justice unfulfilled becomes justice denied. And denial festers into national amnesia.
This same standard of justice must apply to contemporary forms of abuse and corruption. The proposed 2025 national budget includes billions of pesos in confidential and intelligence funds (CIFs), lacking transparency or public oversight. In 2024 alone, the Office of the Vice President and the Department of Education—both led by Vice President Sara Duterte—were controversially allocated ₱500 million in CIFs, as reported by the Commission on Audit and analyzed by PCIJ.
These allocations occurred even as classrooms remained overcrowded and rural health units struggled for basic funding. Such priorities reflect a government where secrecy trumps service, and elite privilege overshadows public need.
Let me say it again: Justice cannot be selective. It must transcend political alliances, social class, and family name. It must confront systemic violence and corruption at every level—from the streets of poor barangays to the halls of power in Malacañang and beyond.
As a follower of Jesus, I take to heart His way of justice-based peace. It was never rooted in vengeance or punishment, but in truth-telling, repentance, and restoration. Jesus challenged those in power and defended the marginalized—not with weapons, but with a radical commitment to righteousness and mercy.
This is what I long to see in our country.
A beginning of our nation’s healing
Back to Duterte: His arrest is not the end of the story. It is only the beginning of a deeper moral and legal reckoning. It invites us all to define—perhaps for the first time in recent history—what justice truly means in the Philippine context.
Will we allow this to be a fleeting spectacle? Or will we, as a people, rise to ensure that justice becomes the new norm—not just for the poor, but also for the powerful?
As I process our nation’s journey, I am reminded that peace is never the mere absence of conflict.
Peace is the presence of justice.
And when justice is rooted in truth, love, and accountability, it paves the way for genuine and lasting peace.
Let this be that moment for us.
Let this be the beginning of our nation’s healing.
