Political Noise and Sovereignty: Shielding the Truth from Accountability?

Political Noise and Sovereignty: Shielding the Truth from Accountability?

The recent hearings by the quad committee on the “war on drugs” have laid bare the desperate attempts of the Duterte administration’s defenders to shield their actions from scrutiny. Faced with mounting evidence of human rights violations, extrajudicial killings, and systemic abuses, these defenders have resorted to familiar tactics: invoking sovereignty to fend off international accountability and dismissing calls for justice as mere “political noise.” However, these strategies fail to suppress the reality that justice demands and the weight of evidence now wielded against them. 

Sovereignty as a Shield for Impunity 

A common refrain in the defenders’ arsenal is the invocation of sovereignty. They argue that international bodies, such as the International Criminal Court (ICC), have no jurisdiction over the Philippines, framing external investigations as threats to national independence. This rhetoric seeks to deflect attention from the core issues—state-led violence and systemic impunity—by transforming the narrative into one of national pride and resistance to foreign interference. 

However, this argument is fundamentally flawed. Sovereignty does not grant carte blanche to commit atrocities or evade accountability. The Philippines, as a signatory to international treaties such as the Rome Statute, has obligations to uphold universal human rights and to ensure that domestic systems provide justice. When these mechanisms fail or are deliberately undermined, as critics argue happened under the Duterte administration, international intervention becomes not a breach of sovereignty but a necessary recourse to uphold justice. 

Moreover, invoking sovereignty as a defense highlights a contradiction. While asserting independence to resist external investigations, the administration itself courted foreign aid and support, particularly in the form of military and police assistance, during the campaign. Sovereignty, in this context, appears less about protecting national integrity and more about shielding those responsible for abuses from facing the consequences of their actions. 

Political Noise: Dismissing Accountability 

Alongside sovereignty, the defenders of the past administration have employed the term “political noise” to dismiss the hearings. This rhetorical strategy paints the proceedings as distractions orchestrated by political opponents, undermining their legitimacy and discouraging public engagement. 

However, labeling these inquiries as noise fails to diminish their substance. The accusations leveled against the Duterte administration are grounded in evidence, from documented testimonies of victims’ families to official admissions of collateral damage and the justification of extrajudicial killings. The hearings have exposed how the administration’s rhetoric of “necessary violence” and “collateral damage” was used to justify a campaign that indiscriminately targeted the poor and marginalized, often disregarding due process. 

Ironically, the very words and justifications once used to defend the “war on drugs” have now become evidence against the administration. Statements that excused the killing of innocents as unavoidable consequences or collateral damage in the pursuit of order now highlight the systemic disregard for human rights and accountability. This “political noise,” far from being a distraction, is the sound of truth echoing through a nation demanding justice. 

The Weight of Truth and Evidence 

Despite efforts to delegitimize the hearings, the evidence continues to mount. Families of victims, human rights organizations, and international watchdogs have provided documentation of abuses, creating an undeniable record of state violence. The testimonies of those directly affected serve as powerful counterpoints to the dismissive rhetoric of the administration’s defenders. 

The attempt to relegate these proceedings to the realm of partisan squabbles ignores the undeniable weight of truth. Extrajudicial killings, the systemic targeting of the vulnerable, and the use of state power to perpetuate violence are not political issues—they are moral and legal crises that demand resolution. The hearings offer a platform to confront these crises and ensure that the victims are not forgotten. 

Justice as a Counter to Impunity 

The defenders’ strategy of invoking sovereignty and political noise is ultimately a bid to evade accountability. However, justice requires more than rhetoric; it demands transparency, evidence, and accountability. By resisting these hearings, the defenders not only undermine their own credibility but also expose their fear of facing the consequences of their actions. 

Accountability is not just about punishing wrongdoers. It is about breaking the cycle of impunity that allows such atrocities to occur. The “war on drugs” was not an isolated campaign—it was part of a broader system that prioritized power over justice, fear over humanity. Without accountability, future leaders may adopt similar policies, confident that they too can evade responsibility. 

The Role of Society in Breaking the Silence 

The hearings serve as a wake-up call to the Filipino people. It is the responsibility of citizens, media, and institutions to see through the smokescreen of political noise and demand truth. Sovereignty and political rhetoric must not be allowed to drown out the voices of the victims or the evidence of abuse. 

The pursuit of justice is not just a legal process—it is a moral imperative. It is a fight for the soul of the nation, a reminder that the value of human life must always take precedence over political expediency. The hearings are not noise—they are a chorus of truth, a collective demand for accountability, and a testament to the resilience of justice. 

Conclusion 

As the quad committee hearings unfold, the desperation of the Duterte administration’s defenders becomes increasingly evident. Their appeals to sovereignty and attempts to dismiss the proceedings as political noise cannot suppress the mounting weight of truth. Justice, though delayed, remains inevitable. These hearings are more than an inquiry into past abuses—they are a reckoning with the nation’s values and a step toward ensuring that the horrors of the “war on drugs” are never repeated. Truth may be obscured by noise, but it cannot be silenced. 

The Stagnation of Ideological Politics: A Shift from Progress to Preservation

  The Stagnation of Ideological Politics: 
A Shift from Progress to Preservation

The political landscape today is dominated by a growing sense of disillusionment with traditional ideological frameworks. As progressivism, conservatism, and liberalism increasingly fail to provide meaningful solutions to the problems of modern society, they have become little more than defensive forces, protecting the stagnancy of the center. This stagnation is not only ideological but also deeply structural. Political elites, detached from the needs of ordinary people, persist in defending systems and policies that have proven ineffective. The ideologies that once defined the political spectrum—progressivism’s vision of social change, conservatism’s protection of traditional values, and liberalism’s commitment to liberty—are now trapped in a cycle of preservation. They are less about moving forward and more about defending a status quo that no longer serves the people. As this stagnation deepens, populist movements have gained traction by promising to break free from the gridlock and offer a new, radical direction. But what happens when progress itself has lost its direction? 

Progressivism’s “Woke” Culture:

A Culture of Recognition Over Structural Change 

Progressivism, once the engine of social reform, is now dominated by what is often referred to as “woke” culture—a focus on symbolic recognition, identity politics, and cultural gestures rather than tangible structural reforms. This shift, according to Noam Chomsky, has diverted progressive movements from addressing core issues such as economic inequality and systemic power dynamics. In his critique of the current political climate, Chomsky argues that the focus on symbolic acts of social justice—such as shifting language, promoting diversity in media, and enforcing political correctness—has overshadowed real, material concerns such as access to healthcare, housing, and education.

Chomsky has long contended that true progress requires a deep, structural overhaul of economic and political systems, particularly the neoliberal order that consolidates power in the hands of the few while disenfranchising the many. In the era of “woke” politics, progressivism has become less concerned with challenging the economic structures that perpetuate inequality and more focused on correcting the language and imagery of public discourse. While these cultural issues are important, they often serve as distractions from the economic transformations that are necessary to address the root causes of social injustice. The risk is that progressivism becomes absorbed in identity-based battles at the expense of its broader, materialist agenda, ultimately leaving people disillusioned with a movement that no longer seems to address their real needs.

Slavoj Žižek, in his critique of contemporary liberal and left-wing movements, similarly points out the contradictions inherent in “woke” culture. Žižek has noted that while the desire to confront systemic racism and sexism is legitimate, the tendency to focus on symbolic gestures often leads to a form of ideological purity that ignores the lived reality of most people. In his work, Žižek often argues that the focus on identity and recognition obscures the fundamental economic and political structures that perpetuate exploitation and inequality. The focus on culture wars—such as the debate over pronouns or cancel culture—becomes an outlet for progressive energy that could otherwise be used to challenge the capitalist system, which he sees as the primary force driving inequality and alienation.

Thus, both Chomsky and Žižek suggest that progressivism’s focus on recognition over redistribution ultimately diminishes its potential to bring about the systemic changes that would address the true sources of inequality. The failure to engage with capitalism as the root of global inequality leads to a situation where progressivism becomes little more than a set of cultural norms to police, without any meaningful shift in the underlying power structures.

Conservatism’s Demand for “Respect”:

The Paradox of Preserving a Changing World 

Conservatism, traditionally associated with preserving societal institutions, values, and traditions, is facing a profound paradox. As society evolves—through technological advancements, globalization, and demographic shifts—many of the values and institutions conservatives seek to protect seem increasingly out of step with contemporary realities. This has led to what some have called a “conservatism of nostalgia,” which clings to idealized notions of the past even as the world around it changes in ways that demand adaptation.

The conservative demand for “respect” often takes the form of a call for society to honor traditional values, norms, and customs that are seen as essential for social cohesion. However, as Michael Polanyi has pointed out, the notion of “respect” becomes problematic when it is rooted in a desire to preserve outdated traditions that may no longer have relevance in a rapidly changing world. In The Tacit Dimension, Polanyi emphasizes the importance of personal knowledge and the evolution of society’s tacit understandings—those invisible frameworks that shape our interactions and institutions. When conservatives demand respect for traditions without acknowledging the need for these traditions to evolve, they risk reinforcing stagnant power structures that no longer serve the common good.

Polanyi’s concept of “tacit knowledge” suggests that social progress cannot be achieved by simply conserving the past; rather, it requires an ongoing, dynamic engagement with the present and future. Conservative demands for respect, in their most rigid form, often ignore the lived experiences of marginalized groups and the changing realities of contemporary life. As Žižek argues, conservative nostalgia for a “better” time often disregards the ways in which those very times were marked by exclusion and inequality.

This tension between tradition and progress is particularly evident in the conservative response to issues like multiculturalism, LGBTQ+ rights, and secularism. Conservatives often frame these issues as threats to social cohesion and national identity, demanding that society “respect” traditional values in the face of such challenges. Yet, as both Chomsky and Polanyi suggest, this resistance to change often stems from a failure to recognize the evolving needs of society—needs that require a more flexible, inclusive approach to tradition. 

Liberalism: The Erosion of Liberty

in the Age of "Laissez Faire" and "Regulation"

Liberalism, the ideology traditionally committed to individual liberty, free markets, and responsible governance, has undergone a significant transformation in recent decades. Where liberalism once sought to protect personal freedom and limit the reach of the state, modern liberalism has increasingly embraced state intervention and regulation, particularly in the realms of social justice and environmental protection. This shift has led to a situation where the very concept of liberty, which was once central to liberal thought, is being redefined in ways that diminish individual autonomy.

Žižek critiques this shift, arguing that liberalism’s embrace of state intervention—particularly in the form of policies that regulate social behavior—has created a paradox. While these interventions may be motivated by a desire to promote equality and social justice, they often come at the expense of individual freedom. Žižek’s concern is that liberalism, in its quest for social fairness, has allowed the state to encroach on personal liberties, undermining the very principles of freedom that once defined the ideology.

In contrast, Chomsky has long warned against the neoliberal policies that have come to dominate liberalism in the 21st century. Neoliberalism, according to Chomsky, consolidates power in the hands of global corporations and elites while weakening democratic institutions. This neoliberal turn within liberalism has led to the erosion of the welfare state and the abandonment of policies that promote economic equality. This corporate dominance under neoliberalism often results in the erosion of workers’ rights, the undermining of environmental protections, and the exacerbation of economic inequality. In this context, the neoliberal agenda of economic “freedom” often leads to the concentration of power in the hands of a few, leaving ordinary citizens with little recourse against corporate abuses. Rather than promoting freedom, neoliberalism has entrenched economic inequalities and reduced the capacity of the state to protect individuals from the excesses of the market. And this corporate dominance often results in the erosion of workers’ rights, the undermining of environmental protections, and the exacerbation of economic inequality. In this context, the neoliberal agenda of economic “freedom” often leads to the concentration of power in the hands of a few, leaving ordinary citizens with little recourse against corporate abuses.

Modern liberalism is caught in a profound contradiction: while it claims to protect individual liberty, it simultaneously embraces both expansive state intervention and neoliberal capitalism, both of which can undermine personal freedom. The regulatory state, in its attempt to address social and environmental issues, encroaches on individual autonomy. At the same time, the neoliberal agenda has concentrated economic power in the hands of a few, limiting the true freedom of individuals to make meaningful choices about their lives. Thus, liberalism today is caught in a difficult position: its once-clear commitment to individual liberty has been eroded by its embrace of state "regulation" and corporate power. The result is an ideological incoherence that leaves liberalism unable to respond effectively to the challenges of the modern world. 

The Center’s Struggle to Defend Stagnation

The political center is facing a profound crisis that reflects not just the shifting dynamics of ideologies but also the fundamental disconnect between the needs of the populace and the responses offered by traditional political structures. Historically, the center has been seen as the locus of moderation, compromise, and pragmatic problem-solving. It was conceived as the area where diverse political factions could find common ground, bridging the gap between extremes in pursuit of stable, workable solutions to the challenges of governance. However, in recent years, this vision of the center has eroded, and it has become increasingly apparent that the center no longer serves as an effective counterbalance to the ideological extremes on either side, nor does it offer a meaningful way forward.

At the heart of this erosion is the growing irrelevance of traditional ideological categories like conservatism, liberalism, and progressivism. These labels, once powerful in shaping political discourse, now seem inadequate to address the pressing issues of the moment—issues that range from systemic economic inequality to climate change, from global instability to the challenges of digital transformation. As the traditional left-right spectrum becomes more fragmented, these once-stable ideologies appear to be losing their coherence and their ability to offer solutions that speak to the lived realities of many people. In this environment, the political center, far from offering innovative or responsive leadership, has increasingly become a place of stagnation, desperately clinging to outdated paradigms that fail to address the changing landscape.

The center, in its current form, has become a force not for progress but for the defense of a status quo that is increasingly untenable. This is a status quo defined not only by entrenched economic hierarchies and institutional power but also by a set of cultural and political norms that many people now see as outdated, ineffective, or even oppressive. In a sense, the center has become a bulwark not against extremism but against change itself. It defends institutions, structures, and policies that, though they may have worked in the past, are no longer equipped to solve the deepening crises of the present. Whether it's the inability to address economic inequality or the failure to confront environmental degradation, the center has lost its capacity to offer real solutions, instead resorting to defensive postures that seek only to maintain the status quo.

Žižek's critique of the center in this context becomes particularly salient. He argues that the center no longer has the tools or the will to offer meaningful answers to the complex problems of our time. Instead of proposing visionary alternatives or daring to imagine new forms of governance, the center simply seeks to preserve what is. And in doing so, it inadvertently fuels the very dissatisfaction that is rising from the fringes of the political spectrum. By refusing to acknowledge the depth of structural inequality, by offering only incremental reforms rather than radical change, the center finds itself increasingly irrelevant to the demands of a disillusioned electorate.

Meanwhile, both conservatism and progressivism have become more reactive forces, more concerned with defending their respective worldviews against the perceived onslaughts of the other than with tackling the systemic issues at the heart of modern political life. In this sense, both ideologies, far from being agents of change, have become custodians of cultural and political battles that no longer serve to resolve the deeper issues of economic, social, and environmental crises.

Conservatives, for example, often position themselves as defenders of traditional values, invoking nostalgia for a past that many believe was more stable and morally grounded. Yet this defense of tradition often obscures the ways in which those traditions are bound up with systems of power and privilege that perpetuate inequality. The focus on "respect" and "order" among conservatives, then, becomes less about fostering a just society and more about protecting an established social order that is increasingly seen as unjust or out of touch with contemporary realities. While there is a legitimate concern for preserving social cohesion and stability, the conservative focus on the cultural wars—whether over issues like immigration, family values, or national identity—often distracts from the broader structural issues that generate inequality and division.

On the other side, progressivism has similarly devolved into a defensive posture. The focus on "woke" politics and identity issues—while important in terms of addressing historical and ongoing injustices—has sometimes become a way of signaling virtue or moral superiority rather than creating systemic change. The fixation on language, representation, and the policing of social norms can, at times, obscure the larger economic and political forces that shape people's lives. Progressives are often more adept at identifying the symptoms of inequality (racism, sexism, homophobia, etc.) than at challenging the underlying structures of capitalism, neoliberalism, or global financial systems that perpetuate these injustices. In this sense, the current form of progressivism risks becoming a form of symbolic politics, more concerned with moral gestures than with achieving substantive structural reform.

Both conservative and progressive forces are, in their own ways, defending a political center that is increasingly discredited. These ideologies no longer seem capable of offering anything beyond symbolic victories or rhetorical battles, and their focus on cultural identity and values often distracts from the more pressing material issues that people are facing—issues like the erosion of the middle class, environmental destruction, job insecurity, and growing wealth inequality. In the process, both extremes become entangled in the politics of recognition and the defense of cultural or ideological purity, rather than offering a new vision of how society might be reorganized to address the real challenges of the modern world.

This growing sense of dissatisfaction with the political center and the ideological extremes is a symptom of a deeper crisis in democracy itself. The belief that any single political ideology, whether liberal, conservative, or progressive, can offer a universal solution to the problems of the world is increasingly seen as naïve. As the center crumbles and the extremes grow more entrenched, the political discourse becomes more polarized, and the possibility for meaningful dialogue and compromise diminishes. The result is a political landscape where stagnation becomes the default, and where real change seems ever more elusive.

Ultimately, the struggle to defend stagnation—whether by the political center, conservatives, or progressives—reflects a failure to come to terms with the fundamental transformations required to address the crises of our time. Without a genuine willingness to reimagine social, economic, and political systems in ways that reflect the needs and aspirations of people today, the political class risks continuing down a path of irrelevance, unable to meet the moment. As the pressures of inequality, environmental collapse, and technological change mount, the defense of the status quo becomes ever more unsustainable. It is only by breaking free from this cycle of stagnation—by rejecting the false comfort of ideological purity and embracing the complexity of modern challenges—that a new, more dynamic and responsive politics can emerge.

Populism: The Call for Radical Change?

As traditional ideological movements—liberalism, conservatism, and progressivism—struggle to address the needs and frustrations of the populace, populism has emerged as a powerful force calling for a radical overhaul of the political system. Rejecting the established order, populism asserts that current political structures are corrupt, elitist, and disconnected from the needs and voices of ordinary people. Rather than merely critiquing the status quo, populism advocates a new political direction that abandons old ideological divides, aiming to reshape society according to the will of “the people.”

Populism is not simply a rejection of centrist or establishment values—it is a reimagining of the political order from the ground up. As Karl Polanyi argued in The Great Transformation, when existing systems fail to address the basic needs of the population, radical change becomes a necessity. Polanyi posited that unchecked market capitalism erodes social bonds and creates deep inequalities, eventually triggering a reaction from society in the form of demands for transformative change. Populism reflects this reactionary spirit, tapping into the frustration of those who feel disenfranchised by the prevailing economic and political structures.

Yet, while populism taps into legitimate grievances, it often faces the challenge of avoiding authoritarian impulses. Slavoj Žižek warns that populism, if not grounded in a coherent vision of justice and equality, risks devolving into authoritarianism. Without a principled foundation, populist movements may succumb to simplistic solutions that prioritize short-term gains or the power of a charismatic leader over sustainable structural change. Žižek contends that, in this sense, populism’s emotional appeal can mask a lack of substantive ideology, making it susceptible to authoritarian tendencies if unchecked.

Noam Chomsky’s critique further underscores this risk, noting that populist movements sometimes fall prey to reactionary forces that exploit popular dissatisfaction for regressive agendas. In Manufacturing Consent, Chomsky highlighted the ways in which elite interests manipulate public discourse, even within ostensibly democratic systems. Populist movements that fail to recognize these manipulative dynamics can become co-opted by those same elite interests they initially sought to resist, ironically reinforcing the very systems of power they aim to dismantle.

Yet, populism’s volatility is part of its potency. Figures like Edward Limonov embody the radical possibilities of populism—an unconventional intellectual who combined cultural rebellion with sharp critiques of the political elite. Limonov’s blend of punk-like defiance and ideological innovation exemplifies how populism can unsettle established norms and draw attention to the shortcomings of traditional ideologies. However, his trajectory also illustrates the danger of populism’s susceptibility to extremism. Limonov’s mix of nationalism and revolutionary zeal reveals the precarious balance populism must maintain: it must energize the people without slipping into xenophobia, authoritarianism, or an overly simplified political agenda.

Ultimately, the challenge for populism is to harness the anger of the people constructively, offering a vision that transcends both ideological extremes and the stagnant center. For populism to avoid veering into authoritarianism, it must develop a clear, democratic vision rooted in justice, equality, and systemic reform. Populism’s potential lies in its capacity to mobilize the disillusioned and to critique elite domination. If it can remain guided by democratic values and resist reactionary temptations, populism might succeed in challenging the status quo and opening pathways to a more responsive and inclusive political order.

Conclusion: A New Direction Amid Stagnation

In conclusion, the stagnation of the center, the incoherence of today's liberal, conservative, and progressive views, and the rise of populism all point to a broader crisis in political thought. As Chomsky, Žižek, and Polanyi have argued, the failure of the center to address the core issues of economic inequality, social justice, and political power has created a vacuum in which radical alternatives flourish. However, the path forward requires more than simply rejecting the old political order; it requires a new vision that takes into account the changing realities of the modern world and offers a path to genuine, systemic transformation. 

The Power of Belief in falsehood and the Persistence of Disinformation

The Power of Belief in falsehood

 and the Persistence of Disinformation

In today’s world, where information travels faster than ever, the spread of disinformation is not just a passing concern—it’s a powerful force that shapes perceptions, influences behavior, and sometimes becomes entrenched as an undeniable truth. What makes the situation particularly unsettling is that many people cling to falsehoods even when they are debunked, especially if those falsehoods serve a deeper emotional or ideological need. 

This behavior can be understood through the lens of human psychology, where belief often transcends evidence. When disinformation targets a specific enemy or adversary, it taps into pre-existing fears, prejudices, and biases, making it especially appealing. In such instances, the truth becomes secondary to the emotional payoff of reinforcing a particular narrative—especially one that casts the enemy in a negative light. The notion of “us versus them” becomes central, and the target of the disinformation becomes a focal point for collective anxiety. Any piece of information, regardless of its veracity, that supports this narrative is welcomed, while contradictory evidence is discarded. 

This dynamic is particularly evident when disinformation is deliberately manufactured and spread, often with the intent to manipulate public opinion. For broadcasters or influencers pushing false narratives, the truth is less important than the desired outcome—whether that be to discredit an adversary, rally a specific audience, or control the flow of information. If disinformation helps maintain power or influence, it becomes a tool for shaping perceptions, even if the facts are clearly debunked. In such cases, the priority isn’t the search for truth but the continuation of a narrative that serves the broadcaster’s or group’s interests. 

From a media-theoretical perspective, Marshall McLuhan’s work on the “medium is the message” helps explain why disinformation is so effective in the modern world. McLuhan argued that the medium through which information is presented shapes not just how we perceive the content but how we experience the world. In today’s digital age, where social media and online platforms amplify personalized content, people are exposed to misinformation in environments where emotional appeals and identity reinforcement take precedence over rationality. As McLuhan warned, technology, particularly media, creates environments where people’s perceptions are shaped by the medium itself, rather than by the objective truth of the content. 

Meanwhile, Jürgen Habermas’s theory of the public sphere underscores the critical role communication plays in democratic societies. However, when disinformation infiltrates public discourse, it erodes the potential for rational, critical debate. Habermas argued that a healthy public sphere depends on the free exchange of ideas, where individuals engage in discussions based on facts and reason. Yet in an environment saturated by disinformation, this kind of discourse becomes undermined, and public debate becomes skewed toward emotional manipulation rather than truth. Disinformation thus not only distorts facts but also obstructs meaningful conversation. 

For the audience, especially those deeply invested in a particular narrative, accepting disinformation can be seen as a coping mechanism. Admitting that the false beliefs they’ve held might be wrong can feel threatening—emotionally, socially, and even psychologically. Once a certain story or belief is internalized, it becomes part of one’s identity or worldview. To abandon it would require a shift in how they see themselves and the world around them. This cognitive dissonance—feeling uncomfortable when holding conflicting ideas—leads many to double down on their beliefs, even in the face of overwhelming evidence that contradicts them. 

This phenomenon becomes even more entrenched when the disinformation targets a particular group or enemy. The emotional satisfaction of being “right” or of protecting one’s community, identity, or ideology often outweighs the cold facts. For many, the belief becomes a defense mechanism—a way to maintain a sense of security and control in an increasingly uncertain world. Disinformation, in these instances, fulfills an emotional need for certainty, reinforcing both personal and collective identity against perceived threats. McLuhan’s theory suggests that, in the digital age, individuals often experience this reinforcement through media platforms that are designed to cater to their existing beliefs. 

The persistence of such misinformation, even after being debunked, reflects not just a failure of media literacy but also a deeper psychological need for certainty and security. People who are most vulnerable to misinformation often have a heightened sensitivity to threats, which disinformation exploits by targeting their social and cultural identity. In this way, disinformation becomes not just a tool for manipulation but also a way for individuals to maintain a sense of control and stability in an uncertain world. 

Thus, while it may be unsurprising that individuals continue to cling to disinformation, the real challenge lies in understanding the complex interplay of psychological, social, and media factors that enable such narratives to persist. In a media landscape shaped by powerful technologies, disinformation finds fertile ground in the emotional and identity-based needs of its audience, making it a persistent and pervasive force in shaping public perception. 

Moreover, the persistence of false narratives can be likened to the “opium of the people” that Karl Marx spoke about in his critique of religion. Just as religion in Marx’s view provided solace to the oppressed by offering an illusory escape from material suffering, so does disinformation offer a psychological escape for those who feel powerless or disenfranchised. By clinging to a narrative that supports their worldview, individuals can block out uncomfortable truths and find refuge in an illusion of certainty and control. This false comfort can be especially alluring in a world that often feels chaotic, unjust, or beyond one’s control. 

The role of disinformation in society, much like the role of religion in Marx’s theory, can serve to pacify the oppressed. The emotional satisfaction of holding on to a narrative, even when it is clearly debunked, provides a psychological shield. It becomes a form of resistance against perceived threats, offering a sense of security in an increasingly uncertain world. However, just as opium dulls the senses and prolongs suffering without addressing the root cause, disinformation prevents individuals from confronting deeper issues, keeping them trapped in a cycle of false belief and dependency. 

But come to think that in religion means invoking hope and peace, a protest against suffering, demanding justice. What makes it described an opium? The establishment uses religion as a tool to pacify, but should faith remain a pacifier for the oppressed as scripture increasingly demands justice? Then the establishment can shun on religion as faith inceasingly speaks otherwise from the establishment's intent- but instead having a myriad of distractors just for the people to evade from the truth, and that includes media of various forms to disinform. Even art, literature, can be an opium not just a copium.

In this way, disinformation is not merely a matter of misleading the public; it is an emotional and psychological mechanism that addresses deep-seated fears and needs. It provides an emotional refuge for those who feel vulnerable or marginalized, making them less likely to question the false narratives that provide them with a sense of belonging and certainty. Just as opium is addictive and self-reinforcing, disinformation becomes a mental and emotional trap, keeping individuals from breaking free and seeking the truth. 

The challenge, therefore, lies not just in debunking falsehoods but in understanding the emotional, social, and psychological factors that make these false narratives so attractive and persistent. Breaking free from the grip of disinformation requires more than just presenting facts—it requires addressing the deeper needs and fears that give rise to such beliefs in the first place. Only by confronting these underlying psychological forces can society hope to overcome the pernicious effects of disinformation and move toward a more informed and rational public discourse. 

Populism, Democracy, and the Struggle to seize the state: a thought

 Populism, Democracy, and the Struggle to seize the state: a thought

By Kat Ulrike

In the 21st century, populism has emerged as one of the most powerful political forces worldwide. But what exactly is populism, and why has it taken such a prominent role in the political landscape? In its essence, populism is not simply an ideology or a political movement but a reflection of deep societal discontent, a challenge to the entrenched power structures, and an assertion of the people's right to self-determination. At its core, populism represents the people's struggle for democracy, for control over their own fates, and for the redistribution of power and resources from the elite to the masses.

Populism’s rise cannot be understood without also examining the growing disillusionment with existing political and economic systems. As sociologist Saskia Sassen has argued, the contemporary world is marked by the growing concentration of wealth and power in the hands of a global elite, leaving many people — especially in the Global South and working-class communities — feeling marginalized and excluded from the political process. Sassen’s work on global cities highlights the increasing power of transnational corporations and international institutions, which, she asserts, "disembed" economic activity from local contexts, rendering political elites more responsive to global rather than local concerns. In this context, populism represents a response to the alienation and disempowerment that large sections of the population experience.

Yet, populism is not a monolithic force. It can take different forms, from left-wing movements that aim to redistribute wealth and power to the people, to right-wing movements that seek to restrict immigration, preserve national identity, and roll back globalization. The difference between these types of populism lies not only in their policies but in their conceptualization of the people. For some, the people are the working-class masses whose interests have been sidelined by elites; for others, the people are those who seek to protect a cultural and national identity from foreign influence and “outsiders.” However, all forms of populism are connected by their critique of the status quo and their call for a radical shift in the balance of power.

As revolutionary José María Sison often pointed out, the very essence of democracy is tied to the struggle of the masses to assert their rights, their dignity, and their collective power. Sison, a leader of the Philippine revolutionary movement and a strong advocate for Marxist-Leninist principles, has long argued that true democracy is not a static concept but a living, evolving force that must constantly be won and defended by the people. In "The Philippine Revolution: The Leader's View" (1985), he writes, "Democracy, in its real sense, is the people’s rule. It is not confined to the right to vote or to speak, but it is the right to transform society in accordance with the needs and aspirations of the people" (Sison, 1985). For Sison, democracy is not just an ideal to be achieved, but a process of struggle that requires the active involvement and leadership of the people, particularly those who have been excluded from power.

The Shift Toward Populism: Challenging Established Norms

The growing appeal of populist rhetoric, particularly in the United States, is a direct response to this stagnancy. Populism, at its best, does not pander to superficial desires or seek to placate the public with meaningless promises. Instead, it channels the deep, often overlooked frustrations of the electorate — frustrations that stem from the very real problems of wage stagnation, job insecurity, healthcare access, and educational inequality. Populist movements, from Bernie Sanders on the left to Donald Trump on the right, have been driven by a collective demand for change. As Jill Lepore writes in These Truths: A History of the United States (2018), “Populism is as American as the country itself. It is a demand for the restoration of power to the people, a rejection of the notion that political power should remain in the hands of the elite.”

But in distinguishing modern populism from the "bread and circuses" variety — a term often used to describe superficial populist appeals that rely on distraction rather than substantive policy changes — it becomes clear that populism today is no longer about pacifying the masses with entertainment or empty promises. The defeat of Kamala Harris in the recent elections or the rise of Trump’s MAGA movement shows that modern populism is driven by a need for genuine political change, not by celebrity endorsements or slogans. Populism is no longer simply a distraction to keep people from the harsh realities of life. As the Oxford Handbook of Populism (2017) edited by Cristóbal Rovira Kaltwasser notes, modern populism is a direct response to the unresponsiveness of political elites and the failure of traditional democratic institutions to address the material needs of the people.

Populism: A Legacy of Democratic Struggle

It is important to remember that populism, in its foundational sense, emerged from the desire of the oppressed to have a say in the political processes that govern their lives. Historically, populist movements have been a response to the concentration of power in the hands of the elite, whether that elite be royal, aristocratic, or corporate. The modern populist call is rooted in a desire to shift political power from those who have historically monopolized it and to restore that power to the people themselves. As Chantal Mouffe argues in For a Left Populism (2018), populism can be a force for progressive change when it serves as a reaction against "the oligarchic and technocratic elites" who hold the levers of political and economic power. "Populism is an expression of the people’s dissatisfaction with the existing order. It can either be a force for reactionary or progressive change, depending on who leads it" (Mouffe, 2018).

Populism, in this context, is not just a passing political fad or a temporary rallying cry for discontent. It is an expression of democratic aspiration, driven by those who feel disenfranchised by the current system. This is precisely what Sison understood when he described the Philippine revolution in terms of the people’s desire for self-determination, social justice, and the redistribution of wealth and power. He often framed populism as the force that exposes the contradictions within bourgeois democracies, which in his view, only serve to protect the interests of the ruling classes. “What is being called ‘populism’ today is simply the awakening of the people to the reality that they have been left behind by the system of political and economic inequality,” Sison remarked in an interview with The International Journal of Socialist Thought (2017). “The people are calling for something more than symbolic recognition or identity politics — they are calling for a transformation of society itself.”

However, populist rhetoric can often be co-opted by elites, leading to a situation where the interests of the people are ignored in favor of policies that deepen inequality. As Sison often warned, the people’s discontent can be easily manipulated by those who seek to use populist sentiment for their own gain. In a statement to The International Journal of Socialist Thought (2017), he explained, “Populism can be used both as a weapon of the oppressed and as a tool of manipulation by the elites. The task of the revolutionaries is to ensure that populism serves the interests of the working class and oppressed, not the ruling class.”

Populism and Its Revolutionary Potential

Populism has always been a force for social change. Historically, populist movements have often emerged from the ranks of the oppressed, the marginalized, and the disenfranchised. From the labor movements of the late 19th and early 20th centuries to the civil rights movements of the 1960s, populism has been a key instrument for pushing for equality, justice, and the redistribution of power. At its most radical, populism calls for the dismantling of entrenched systems of power — capitalism, imperialism, and colonialism — and the creation of a society in which wealth and resources are distributed more equitably.

Sison articulated this vision in his work The Philippine Revolution: The Leader’s View (1985). Sison argued that true democracy is not just about voting rights or civil liberties, but about ensuring that the people, not the elites, control their own fate. “Democracy, in its real sense, is the people’s rule,” he wrote. “It is not confined to the right to vote or to speak, but it is the right to transform society in accordance with the needs and aspirations of the people.” This radical vision of democracy — one that goes beyond elections to address the deeper structural issues of economic inequality and exploitation — is central to understanding populism in its revolutionary form.

In this context, populism is not merely about obtaining recognition or symbolic victories but about taking control of political and economic power. Sison’s famous quote, “Revolution is not a dinner party,” encapsulates this point. For Sison and many other left-wing populists, the true challenge is not merely asking for respect or representation within the existing political framework, but overthrowing that framework to build a society that reflects the people’s interests.

The Center Cannot Hold:
A Crisis of ideology under a stagnant order

In today’s world, however, the political center is under increasing strain. Whether they are labeled "woke," "pseudo-progressive," "conservative," or "liberal," all factions within the political establishment seem to be struggling to maintain their relevance in an era marked by a growing populist revolt. These groups often find themselves defending a political status quo that increasingly feels disconnected from the needs and desires of the majority of people.

As political theorist Chantal Mouffe notes in For a Left Populism (2018), the center has always represented an equilibrium that privileges stability over transformation. However, in the face of systemic economic inequality, rising social unrest, and the unraveling of the neoliberal project, the center can no longer claim to be a neutral or balanced position. It has become, in her words, “a stagnancy that merely preserves the power structures that benefit elites.” This stagnation is becoming evident as people increasingly demand that political systems serve the interests of the majority, rather than the entrenched power structures that dominate both public and private life.

A key factor in the rise of populism today is the crisis of the political center. Across the globe, traditional political elites — from center-left social democrats to center-right conservatives — are losing the trust and support of the public. In many parts of the world, the political center has failed to address the underlying crises of inequality, unemployment, and social dislocation. The globalized neoliberal economic order, which has concentrated wealth in the hands of a few while leaving millions behind, has exacerbated these issues.

The work of Pippa Norris and Ronald Inglehart offers valuable insights into this phenomenon. In their book Cultural Backlash: Trump, Brexit, and the Rise of Authoritarian Populism (2019), Norris and Inglehart argue that the rise of populism is not just a response to economic inequality, but also to cultural shifts and identity politics. They highlight how globalization and cultural liberalization — particularly in terms of issues like immigration, gender, and sexual orientation — have caused a backlash among certain segments of the population. The political center, which has often embraced globalism and social liberalism, has struggled to bridge the growing divide between the cosmopolitan elites and the disaffected working-class voters who feel that their culture, identity, and economic security are under threat.

In their analysis, Norris and Inglehart draw on the concept of cultural backlash to explain how populist movements tap into fears about cultural change. This idea echoes Karl Polanyi’s concept of the “double movement,” which describes the tension between the forces of market liberalism and the pushback from society’s protective mechanisms. Polanyi argued that the disembedding of the economy from social relations — such as the deregulation of markets and the reduction of the welfare state — would lead to social instability and ultimately provoke a political reaction. Today, this “protective” backlash is embodied in right-wing populism, which seeks to preserve traditional identities and restrict the forces of globalization.

The "Woke" and the Superficial Progressive:

Diverting Attention from Real Change

It is here that this note see the tension between woke politics, pseudo-progressivism, and genuine populism. While “woke” movements rightly highlight important cultural issues such as racial justice, gender equality, and LGBTQ+ rights, they often fail to challenge the economic systems that underpin these issues. The material struggles of the working class — such as wage stagnation, workplace exploitation, and job insecurity — are frequently overshadowed by identity politics that focus primarily on recognition and symbolic representation. The problems with this are clear: respect and recognition are important, but they are not enough to solve systemic issues of poverty, inequality, and economic exploitation.

This is why populism — when it is authentically left-wing and rooted in the struggles of the working class — is so crucial. José María Sison argued that the revolutionary challenge to capitalism goes beyond symbolic demands. He stated, “The masses do not merely demand respect or recognition; they demand control over their own lives, their own labor, and their own destiny. Revolution is not a dinner party. It is the seizure of power from those who have used it to oppress and exploit” (Sison, 1985).

This is the fatal flaw in much of the current mainstream "progressive" movement: it often serves as a distraction from the deeper, structural issues of capitalist exploitation. By focusing on identity issues without addressing economic inequalities, much of modern progressive rhetoric has been co-opted by the elite in a way that ultimately preserves, rather than challenges, the status quo. For example, corporate diversity initiatives and tokenism — where companies and institutions implement superficial changes like diversity quotas or pride month celebrations — can be seen as "woke" gestures that distract from the real issues of class struggle.

The Rise of Right-Wing Populism

One of the most notable aspects of modern populism is the prominence of right-wing movements, especially in Western democracies. Figures like Donald Trump, Jair Bolsonaro, and Viktor Orbán have tapped into widespread dissatisfaction with the political elite and the globalist consensus, often framing themselves as champions of the “common people” against the corrupt establishment. But does right-wing populism truly represent the interests of the people, or is it simply a reactionary force that seeks to reinforce existing power structures? It’s crucial to understand that modern populism is not just a response to economic or political frustration, but also a rejection of the shallow, incremental reforms often offered by the political establishment. This "bread and circuses" style of populism — where political leaders offer symbolic gestures or temporary distractions to pacify the masses — is no longer enough. As demonstrated by the defeat of Kamala Harris in the recent elections and the continued rise of Donald Trump, populism is a force that reflects deeper societal issues that cannot be resolved through token gestures or celebrity endorsements. The recent presidential election results in the U.S. highlight that no amount of high-profile endorsements or "woke" politics can stem the tide of populist discontent.

Trump’s “Make America Great Again” (MAGA) movement, for example, tapped into a growing frustration among working-class voters, especially in rural areas, who felt alienated by globalization, technological change, and the shifting cultural norms of an increasingly diverse society. Trump’s populism became a rallying cry for those who believed that the political elite, particularly in Washington, D.C., had abandoned them. But this type of populism raises important questions: Does Trump’s version of populism truly reflect the will of the people, or does it serve the interests of the very elites he claims to oppose?

David Frum, in his book Trumpocracy: The Corruption of the American Republic (2018), argues that Trump’s populism — despite its rhetoric — ultimately serves the interests of the wealthy elite. “Trump’s populism, while it claims to represent the will of the people, has been, in practice, a vehicle for advancing the interests of the richest Americans,” Frum writes. Trump’s administration, Frum contends, prioritized tax cuts for the wealthy, deregulation, and a strengthening of the corporate elite, all while stoking divisions over race, immigration, and national identity. 

Furthermore, Sison noted, “Populism can be used both as a weapon of the oppressed and as a tool of manipulation by the elites. The task of revolutionaries is to ensure that populism serves the interests of the working class and oppressed, not the ruling class.”

Similarly, in Russia, Eduard Limonov, a controversial writer and politician, has argued that populism in post-Soviet Russia has largely served the interests of the oligarchs. Limonov’s critique of Russian populism reflects the reality that in many cases, populist rhetoric can be used as a tool of elite consolidation, rather than as a vehicle for genuine democratic change.

This is why the true potential of populism lies not in its rhetoric, but in how it is harnessed. Left-wing populism — grounded in the struggle of the working class and the marginalized — can provide the revolutionary force needed to dismantle the systems of capitalist exploitation. But when populism is co-opted by right-wing forces, it risks being a reactionary movement that protects the status quo rather than challenging it.

Left-Wing Populism: A Radical Vision
for Social Transformation

In contrast, left-wing populism, as articulated by theorists like Chantal Mouffe, offers a radically different vision. Mouffe, in her book For a Left Populism (2018), argues that populism can be a tool for progressive change, if it is centered around a vision of social justice and equality. For Mouffe, the key to left-wing populism is the ability to unite disparate social groups — workers, immigrants, women, LGBTQ+ people, and others — around a shared vision of democratic socialism and anti-capitalism. In her view, the core of populism is the assertion of the people’s sovereignty over the capitalist forces that seek to subordinate them.

Mouffe’s analysis is informed by Laclau and Mouffe’s concept of “hegemony,” in which populism is seen as a way to create a collective identity and build a political majority around a shared set of demands. In a world where neoliberalism has undermined democratic accountability, left-wing populism offers the potential for a new form of democracy — one that prioritizes collective action, solidarity, and the radical redistribution of power.

For Sison, this radical vision is inseparable from revolutionary action. He stresses that populism is not just about electoral politics or incremental reforms, but about dismantling the systems of exploitation that perpetuate inequality. “Revolution is not a dinner party,” Sison famously declared using Mao's quote. “It is the seizure of power from those who have used it to oppress and exploit.” Hence, it's about the need for a revolution as the people must not only be represented but must hold real power. Whether it is in the form of political representation, economic control, or social autonomy, the people’s will must prevail over the entrenched interests of the elite. In this way, populism becomes not just a political movement but a social revolution.

“Populism is not just about reforms but about the total transformation of society. It’s about breaking the chains of imperialism and feudalism and building a new society based on the people’s interests,” he wrote in The Philippine Revolution: The Leader’s View (1985). This is the essence of revolutionary populism: it is not about reforming the existing system but about building something entirely new. It is the people's uprising against the capitalist, imperialist, and feudal systems that exploit and oppress them.

Conclusion: The People’s Struggle for a Just Society

Populism, at its core, is the people’s struggle for control over their own lives, their labor, and their destiny. Whether left-wing or right-wing, populism reflects the growing frustration with the status quo and the belief that democracy should not be limited to mere participation in elections but should involve a fundamental transformation of society. For Sison, Mouffe, Saskia Sassen, and many others, populism represents the last bastion of democracy in a world increasingly dominated by corporate elites and neoliberal policies.

In this age of inequality, economic crisis, and political alienation, populism offers a vision of a world where the people hold the power — not just in theory, but in practice. It is a vision of democracy in its fullest, most radical sense: a democracy that goes beyond elections and symbolic gestures to a true redistribution of power and resources- and the task of populist movements is clear: to overthrow the systems of exploitation and oppression that benefit the few at the expense of the many. “The task of revolutionaries is to ensure that the people, not the elites, control their own fate” (Sison, 1985).

The challenge today is to reclaim populism from those who seek to co-opt it for their own gain. Whether through revolutionary means or through progressive reform, populism — rooted in the struggles of the working class and the marginalized — can still offer the hope of a new, just society where the people hold real power, not just in theory, but in practice. The question is not whether populism is the answer but whether the people can harness its power to create a world that reflects their interests and aspirations. 

Will that populism be a tool of the elite or a force for the revolution of the people? Only time will tell.

The Political Nature of Accountability under Duterte: The "Führerprinzip" in Practice?

The Political Nature of Accountability under Duterte:
The "Führerprinzip" in Practice?

The War on Drugs initiated by Rodrigo Duterte upon his ascension to the presidency of the Philippines in 2016 was not merely a law-and-order measure but a politically charged campaign designed to consolidate his personal power. While presented as a necessary response to drug-related crime, it quickly became clear that Duterte’s war was grounded more in his political will than in legal processes or democratic norms. His administration's disregard for due process, combined with the politicization of state institutions, reflected a governance model where the "Führerprinzip"—the "leader principle"—reigned supreme. In this framework, Duterte's personal authority became the law, overriding judicial oversight, constitutional protections, and international human rights standards.

Politicizing Law Enforcement and Weaponization of State Power:

A Campaign for Consolidation of power and interest

Duterte’s War on Drugs rapidly evolved from a law enforcement initiative into a mechanism for political consolidation. By framing the campaign as a moral crusade, Duterte not only sought to eliminate perceived criminal threats but also to solidify his political base, presenting himself as the nation’s protector from chaos and drug abuse. His infamous "license to kill" rhetoric, for example, justified extrajudicial killings under the guise of national security, offering law enforcement officers a free pass to act with impunity. Duterte's public directive to police officers to "encourage suspects to fight back" was a clear signal that the legal system was secondary to his political agenda—extrajudicial killings were excused as necessary to preserve national order, even when they blatantly violated human rights.

Moreover, Duterte’s political suppression extended to those who questioned or challenged his policies. Critics, including human rights organizations, opposition politicians, and even journalists, were labeled as “drug protectors” or “terrorists”, and subjected to harassment, arrest, and even imprisonment. The case of Senator Leila de Lima—who was incarcerated on what many saw as politically motivated charges—exemplifies how opposition figures were persecuted simply for standing against the drug war. Duterte’s administration framed any challenge to the drug war as a betrayal of the national interest, further consolidating his political base while criminalizing dissent.

Politicization also infected legislative bodies, where many politicians, including senators seeking re-election, publicly voiced concern about the drug war or feigning impartiality, but, in practice, shielded Duterte from legal scrutiny. Legislative hearings into the abuses of the War on Drugs often became grandstanding exercises rather than genuine attempts to ensure accountability. Instead of questioning the legitimacy of Duterte’s policies, these lawmakers focused on deflecting criticism and protecting their political interests, a reflection of the political power Duterte wielded to prevent meaningful checks on his actions.

This political capital that Duterte wielded was such that his allies in the legislature were willing to ignore calls for accountability, choosing instead to defend a campaign that had fundamentally undermined constitutional safeguards. It's either "accept it or not" as these solons who chose to support treat the situation as implementation of political will and therefore disregard human rights, due process, or the constitution itself. And regardless of trying to "depoliticize" its nature, this weaponization of state power became particularly evident in the way that Duterte’s critics were treated. Opposition figures and human rights activists were not only silenced but actively punished for their dissent. The use of state violence to suppress these critics mirrored the tactics of authoritarian regimes, where opposition is viewed as a threat to the leader’s power rather than a legitimate expression of political disagreement. Duterte’s critics were framed as enemies of the state, demonized as traitors and "anti-national" for their opposition to his policies.

The Führerprinzip: A Governance Model Based on the Leader’s Will

Central to Duterte’s leadership style was a rejection of institutional checks and balances in favor of a leader-centered governance model. This model, exemplified by the "Führerprinzip", places the leader’s will above legal and constitutional constraints. Duterte’s administration embodied this principle in its disregard for due process and its elevation of presidential authority to an unprecedented level. Under Duterte, law enforcement and other state actors were expected to execute his directives without question, turning the rule of law into a mere extension of his personal vision.

Duterte’s frequent statements, such as his assertion that, "If allowed to return as mayor of Davao, I would do it all over again," revealed the depth of his personal attachment to the drug war and its extrajudicial tactics. The campaign was not merely a policy; it was framed as his personal mission to eliminate drug criminals and assert control over the nation, further solidifying the notion that the law, in his eyes, was a tool for implementing his own agenda. Even in the face of mounting international condemnation, Duterte maintained that his actions were justified by his mandate, a belief that his leadership was above both Philippine law and international human rights standards.

For sure Duterte’s supporters may disagree with any criticism of his leadership, but their support for his harsh approach to the law suggests they believe that the implementer of the law—the president—should have the freedom to interpret it as he sees fit. As member of the bar what more a former prosecutor, Duterte was trained and faced the courts to implement law, often deciding guilt or innocence based on evidence. However, once he became mayor and then president, his legal training became distorted to serve his political objectives. A prosecutor’s role should be to apply the law impartially, with fairness and due process to ensure justice. Yet, under Duterte, justice became highly personalized—with his will as the leader has to be above if not became the law. He referred to the drug war as "his personal mission," where his view of “justice” and “order” became the driving force behind law enforcement. In this framework, due process was discarded in favor of “political will”, with extrajudicial killings and violent crackdowns justified as upholding the law. Constitutional safeguards, like judicial review and legal accountability, were seen as obstacles to his vision of order and were sidelined.

Thus, under this mindset, Duterte treated the law as a malleable tool to enforce his goals, allowing him to justify violence and impunity. His Führerprinzip-like approach led to the idea that the leader’s will should supersede legal norms. Supporters of his policies tacitly accepted this notion, agreeing that the president, not the law, should have the final say on matters of justice. This blurred the line between rule of law and rule by leader, turning the law into a tool of political control rather than a means to ensure justice.

Bending the Law: Legal Impunity and Authoritarian Governance

Duterte’s manipulation of legal processes underlined his rejection of legal accountability. His disregard for the law was not limited to his rhetoric but extended to the systematic undermining of legal safeguards. Through public declarations like "license to kill" and directives to law enforcement to treat suspects as "enemies," Duterte effectively redefined justice. Rather than following due process, the law was bent to suit his political aims. Extrajudicial killings and violent crackdowns on drug suspects became the norm, with police acting as judge, jury, and executioner. The rule of law, which is meant to provide accountability and fairness, was rendered irrelevant in Duterte’s model of governance.

And by redefining justice, this sounds like "theory of two demons" that appear to morally equate what perceived as immoral, if not violent actions against the state with illegal repressive activities carried out by the state. If necessary, this disregard the law of the land by claiming such "drastic" moves as "legal" or as a "moral necessity." 
In the case of Duterte’s drug war, there is a similar moral equivalence at play. By framing the drug war as a battle for national survival, Duterte justified state-sanctioned violence, including extrajudicial killings, as a necessary and righteous action against the “enemy”—the drug trade and criminals to counter that of crimes perpetuated by the "enemy". True that the long arm of the law as needed to combat crime as supporters would insist, but with Duterte's distortion of the law, this justification has created "legal impunity" by implementing a necessary evil to counter a greater evil- regardless of collateral damages, false accusations, or mistaken identities; if not created a false dichotomy where violence committed by the state was seen as legitimate while perceived "violence" from opposition or dissenting voices (who questioned the legality of the drug war or any of Duterte's controversial policies) was framed as illegal or subversive.  

And as a former prosecutor, Duterte was trained in the application of the law, but as president, he adopted a crude interpretation of justice that placed his will above constitutional protections, justifying such bloodied actions as "political will" or as "moral necessity". The drug war, far from being a legal crusade against crime, became a political campaign to eliminate his enemies and entrench his power. His repeated insistence that the War on Drugs was a moral imperative meant that the law, in his view, was secondary to the preservation of his political vision.

The dangerous precedent set by Duterte’s War on Drugs lay in how the law was manipulated to serve the interests of one man, making the law literally harsh "but it is the law" people meant to obey. The state's monopoly on violence was wielded to enforce Duterte’s political agenda, bypassing due process and turning legal institutions into mere instruments of executive power.

The Dangerous Implications of Personalizing "Justice" and "Rule by Law"

Duterte's personalized approach to justice eroded the democratic safeguards designed to protect citizens from abuse. In a functional democracy, the judiciary, legislature, and executive act as independent checks on each other, ensuring that power is not concentrated in the hands of one individual. However, under Duterte, these institutions were subordinated to his will, and any challenge to his authority was quickly dismissed or repressed. 

Opposition figures, human rights organizations, and journalists who criticized the War on Drugs were not only silenced but often persecuted. Those who dared to question Duterte’s policies were labeled "drug protectors" or "enemies of the state" and subjected to threats, harassment, imprisonment, or worse. Duterte's manipulation of the legal system reflected the dangers of personalized justice, where legal norms are disregarded in favor of an executive order that reinforces the leader’s political objectives.

Sovereignty as an Alibi: The Erosion of Legal Accountability

Duterte often invoked the principle of national sovereignty to justify his war on drugs, claiming that it was an internal matter immune to foreign scrutiny. His frequent defense of the drug war as a sovereign right to protect the nation from drug-related crime became a shield against international criticism and accountability. While sovereignty is indeed a legitimate principle, Duterte’s application of it was more an alibi for the erosion of legal accountability than a defense of the nation’s interests. By invoking sovereignty, he sought to circumvent both domestic legal norms and international human rights standards, positioning the drug war as a national security issue rather than a legal or moral concern.

International organizations, such as the United Nations and the International Criminal Court (ICC), condemned the extrajudicial killings and violations of human rights under Duterte’s leadership, but these critiques were dismissed as foreign interference. Duterte’s rhetorical defense of sovereignty allowed him to deflect attention from the illegal and immoral actions of his government, providing cover for the authoritarian overreach of his regime. In this way, sovereignty was reduced from a means of protecting the nation’s citizens to a tool for perpetuating Duterte’s political control.

The Public’s Role in Challenging Duterte’s Legal Reinterpretation

Despite Duterte’s attempts to frame his War on Drugs as a moral imperative, significant resistance arose from civil society, legal experts, and political opposition. Many Filipinos rejected the notion that sovereignty could be used to justify the breakdown of the rule of law. As Duterte’s legal reinterpretations increasingly bent the law to serve his political goals, opposition groups began to assert that the law existed not to serve the whims of the president, but to protect the rights of all citizens. Legal experts and human rights organizations argued that Duterte’s disregard for due process represented a grave violation of the Philippine Constitution and international legal obligations.

The political opposition, civil society, and ordinary Filipinos rallied around the idea that no leader should be above the law. They pointed out that while sovereignty may provide a degree of legal autonomy, it could not serve as an excuse for authoritarian governance that trampled on individual rights and democratic processes. In this context, public resistance to Duterte’s legal overreach became crucial in defending the integrity of the legal system and the democratic values that had once anchored the Philippines’ political identity.

Conclusion: The Authoritarian Nature of Duterte's Rule

Rodrigo Duterte’s War on Drugs was far more than a law-and-order initiative—it was a deeply political project that sought to consolidate his personal power at the expense of democratic institutions and legal accountability. His leadership, marked by a rejection of legal norms and constitutional safeguards, exemplified the dangers of the "Führerprinzip", where the law becomes a tool to serve the leader’s will. By centralizing power in his office and manipulating the legal system to fit his personal vision, Duterte undermined the rule of law and opened the door for authoritarianism to flourish in a nation that had once prided itself on democratic governance.

Duterte’s reliance on sovereignty as a defense against international scrutiny and his crude interpretation of the law revealed the extent to which his administration distorted legal principles to suppress opposition, consolidate power, and undermine legal protections. In doing so, he had set a dangerous precedent, demonstrating how authoritarianism can take root in a democracy when the law is no longer a safeguard but a tool of personal control. The political nature of accountability under Duterte’s rule was marked by a disregard for constitutional norms and an unwavering belief in the supremacy of the leader’s will, providing a stark reminder of the fragility of democracy in the face of unchecked executive power.

Blood on Their Hands: The Unfolding Debate Over Duterte's War on Drugs and the people's demand for Accountability"

Blood on Their Hands: The Unfolding Debate Over Duterte's War on Drugs

and the people's demand for  Accountability"

The ongoing hearings in the Philippine Senate and House of Representatives over the controversial "War on Drugs" continue to capture national attention, drawing a sharp divide between lawmakers as they grapple with the legacy of the Duterte administration’s bloody campaign. These investigations have laid bare significant concerns over the conduct of law enforcement during the drug war, highlighting the alleged reward system that incentivized extrajudicial killings and opened the door to corruption, both in law enforcement and the criminal underworld.

Senate's Role: Confronting Duterte's Legacy

The Senate’s investigation into the Duterte administration’s war on drugs has emerged as a significant battleground for political and legal accountability. The hearings, primarily led by the Senate Committee on Public Order and Dangerous Drugs, are a direct attempt to uncover the truth behind one of the most controversial and deadly policies in Philippine history. However, the Senate's approach has been far from straightforward, with tension between those who seek to hold Duterte accountable and his allies who seek to protect his legacy.

Under the leadership of former police chief-turned-senator Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa, who was a staunch ally of Duterte during the latter’s presidency, the Senate hearings have often become a platform for defending the drug war rather than fully scrutinizing it. Dela Rosa, who oversaw many of the police operations during the early days of the war on drugs, has been a vocal defender of the administration’s policies. In fact, the hearings have sometimes been criticized for allowing Duterte’s allies to dominate the narrative, focusing on justifying the need for a tough anti-drug campaign rather than investigating the human rights violations and extrajudicial killings that occurred under it.

The Senate’s investigation has, to some extent, been seen as a political exercise, with much of the focus on defending the Duterte administration's controversial policies rather than pushing for substantive accountability. Senators allied with Duterte have sought to downplay the human rights abuses, framing the war on drugs as an effort to protect the Filipino public from the scourge of illegal narcotics. They argue that Duterte's actions were necessary to address a dire national crisis, a stance that has been consistently echoed by the former president himself during his appearances before the committee. In his testimony, Duterte has defended his actions, painting them as a moral and national security imperative, even as evidence of extrajudicial killings and police brutality mounts.

Duterte’s Defenses and the Senate's Tensions

Duterte’s appearance in the Senate, especially his direct testimony before the committee, has sparked intense confrontation and heightened political tensions. In previous hearings, Duterte remained defiant, offering no apology for the deaths and standing by his “order to kill” policy. His justification for the killings has ranged from claims that the war was necessary to "save the youth" from drugs to painting himself as a victim of international criticism and political pressure. The former president has also accused critics of politicizing the issue, suggesting that the calls for accountability are rooted in personal vendettas and attempts to undermine his administration’s achievements.

This line of defense has created a deeply polarized atmosphere in the Senate hearings. On one side are those, primarily Duterte's allies, who continue to defend the drug war, offering rationalizations that the campaign was necessary for national security, economic stability, and the well-being of Filipino citizens. On the other side, the opposition senator Risa Hontiveros has been unwavering in her condemnation, emphasizing that the drug war violated human rights, disregarded due process, and fueled a climate of impunity. These senators have often clashed with Duterte’s defenders, using the hearings as a platform to bring attention to the victims of extrajudicial killings and push for a full investigation into the illegal actions of the police.

In these debates, some senators have directly challenged Duterte’s rhetoric and actions, arguing that the killings carried out under the drug war were not isolated incidents but part of a systematic policy designed to eliminate perceived enemies of the state. They have pointed to the sheer scale of the violence, which claimed thousands of lives, many of whom were not drug lords or criminals but poor and vulnerable individuals from marginalized communities. This contrast in narratives—between Duterte's defenders and his critics—has turned the Senate hearings into a microcosm of the broader political divide in the country.

Expect Denials and Justifications

As the death toll continues to rise, an unsettling phenomenon is emerging: some supporters of the war on drugs are not just justifying the killings but actively denying the existence of the war on drugs itself. This form of denial, particularly from those who were once at the helm of the Duterte administration or continue to support his policies, resembles the phenomenon of holocaust denial—a refusal to acknowledge the magnitude of state-sanctioned violence despite overwhelming evidence. In the case of the drug war, this denial comes in many forms: minimizing the scale of extrajudicial killings, dismissing the testimonies of victims’ families, or even suggesting that the deaths are part of the collateral damage in a righteous war on drugs. 

For many Duterte supporters, the ongoing narrative has become about "winning the war," to the point where the human cost is often dismissed as a necessary evil. Duterte himself, in defending his drug war, has claimed that the deaths were a natural consequence of the larger struggle to cleanse the nation of the drug trade. The undeniable fact that thousands of innocent people, many of whom were not even involved in drugs, lost their lives in these operations is brushed off as an unfortunate but acceptable result of the campaign. Similar to how some choose to downplay or deny the atrocities of historical events like the Holocaust, there are segments of the public and political establishment that refuse to confront the full consequences of Duterte's violent policies.

The denial also extends to attempts to avoid any recognition of the victims' right to due process and justice. Extrajudicial killings, in which suspects are summarily executed without trial or evidence, are reframed as “justifiable” actions of law enforcement, arguing that the elimination of drug dealers or users is essential to the national security and public order of the country. This rhetoric shields the perpetrators from accountability and perpetuates a culture of impunity.

Moreover, the justification of collateral damage further complicates the pursuit of justice. Under the guise of eradicating drugs, many innocent individuals were caught in the crossfire or unjustly executed. Families and communities have had to deal with the devastating consequences of a system that allows authorities to operate with impunity. This mentality—that the "greater good" of eradicating drugs justifies the loss of innocent lives—has been used as a shield by Duterte’s supporters to deflect responsibility. The notion that some casualties are "acceptable" because they fall within the broader scope of a "war" on drugs, even if they involve systemic injustice, is not unlike the dismissal of civilian deaths in other violent conflicts where power dynamics and political agendas outweigh human rights concerns.

The Political Nature of Accountability: A "Führerprinzip" in Practice?

For all the grandstanding about the pursuit of truth and justice in the ongoing investigations, the issue of the Duterte administration’s drug war is, at its core, deeply political. Solons, or lawmakers, who sit in these hearings may insist that the matter "shouldn’t be tainted by politics," but in reality, the war on drugs itself was a highly politicized campaign from the very beginning. While the Senate and House hearings may seem to take on the appearance of objective inquiries into state violence, the reality is that many of those involved are not disinterested observers seeking truth but rather actors entrenched in the political polarization that defines Philippine politics. The war on drugs became, under Duterte, a tool of political power, both domestically and internationally.

During the Duterte administration, those who spoke out against the drug war—primarily opposition figures, human rights groups, and civil society organizations—were often met with fierce attacks, demonized as enemies of the state. Critics were labeled as "drug protectors" or "terrorists," with the government using its rhetoric of national security to justify the suppression of dissent. Opposition senators like Leila de Lima were incarcerated under dubious charges, and human rights advocates were persecuted or threatened. The government painted its critics as traitors, undermining the rule of law in favor of a more authoritarian approach where dissent was silenced, and the leader's will was paramount.

This practice, which some observers have likened to the "Führerprinzip" (leader principle), mirrors the authoritarian practices of fascist regimes where the leader's word supersedes all written law and the very structure of government is bent to serve the realization of the leader’s will. Under Duterte, the war on drugs was framed not as a legal process bound by the constitution or international norms but as an essential component of his personal mandate. This principle meant that Duterte's word, from declaring the drug war to ordering police to kill suspects, became the de facto law of the land, overriding existing legal frameworks and human rights protections.

Under the "Führerprinzip", government policies and decisions were often based on the leader’s directive, regardless of the legality or consequences. The Philippine government, under Duterte, operated in a similar fashion, with public institutions, including law enforcement, military, and even the judiciary, expected to conform to the president’s directives. Public statements that called for the extrajudicial killing of drug suspects were made without regard for legal due process, and in some cases, those who opposed Duterte were openly threatened with violence or imprisonment. In this environment, the law became a mere formality, bent to fit the broader agenda of the leader, while human rights and democratic principles were sidelined in favor of an unrelenting pursuit of Duterte’s vision of the "War on Drugs."

Lack of Concrete Accountability

Despite the high-profile nature of the Senate’s inquiries, the hearings have struggled to yield concrete results in terms of holding anyone accountable. This is partly because of the lack of willingness from some Senate members to directly challenge the former president and his allies, whose political influence still looms large over the country’s political landscape. Even though there have been important revelations during these hearings—such as the admission by certain police officers that extrajudicial killings were carried out as part of the drug war—many senators appear reluctant to push the issue too hard, fearing political backlash or even legal retribution from Duterte’s loyalists.

While opposition senators have pressed for the establishment of an independent body to investigate the drug war and for the prosecution of those responsible for unlawful killings, they have often been outnumbered in committee discussions. The hearings have, at times, taken on a performative character, with grandstanding from both sides, and a perceived lack of urgency in addressing the root causes of the abuses. The legal framework needed to prosecute those responsible for extrajudicial killings under Duterte’s regime remains a contentious issue, with many lawmakers still hesitant to challenge the former president directly, fearing the political fallout.

One of the most contentious aspects of the Senate’s role in the investigation is its inability to hold the Duterte administration to full account for its policies, especially when key players, including former law enforcement officials and government insiders, refuse to testify or offer full cooperation. While senators have been able to extract some testimonies, including damning admissions from lower-ranking police officers and even former Duterte administration officials, these have not resulted in significant legal consequences or major policy changes. The Senate has largely avoided a deeper, more substantive examination of how the war on drugs was financed, organized, and carried out at the highest levels.

House of Representatives: Solons having Deeper Dives

on Corruption and Impunity

In contrast, the House of Representatives, particularly through the efforts of the Quad Committee (comprising the Committees on Dangerous Drugs, Justice, Public Order, and Good Government), has been more methodical and focused in its inquiry. This body has been praised for its detailed and systematic approach to investigating the financial and operational aspects of Duterte’s drug war.

A critical revelation that has emerged from these hearings is the alleged use of illegal "Philippine Offshore Gaming Operations" (POGOs) to fund a reward system that incentivized law enforcement officers to kill in the name of the drug war. The connection between the drug war and these illegal gambling operations has raised alarms about the links between state-sanctioned violence and criminal syndicates, which allegedly benefited from the system of rewards and payments tied to each "kill" made during operations. This finding not only deepens concerns about the abuse of power but also suggests that Duterte’s campaign was intertwined with organized crime, further complicating the moral and legal questions surrounding the drug war.

The House hearings have also focused on how police officers were allegedly rewarded for their participation in extrajudicial killings, with some members of the police admitting to killings during the drug war. The use of rewards, rather than proper legal procedures, points to a systemic breakdown in law enforcement and casts serious doubt on the integrity of the police force involved. The discussions in the lower house, which have included testimonies from former police officers, human rights advocates, and victims’ families, aim to highlight the broader societal impact of these extrajudicial killings, demanding that those responsible be held accountable, from the officers on the ground to the highest levels of government.

The Reward System: A Deadly Incentive

One of the most disturbing and morally bankrupt aspects of the Duterte administration’s war on drugs was the implementation of a reward system that financially incentivized police officers for killing suspected drug offenders. This reward scheme, which was widely reported by whistleblowers, human rights advocates, and even some police officers themselves, transformed the fight against drugs into a bloodthirsty pursuit in which the value of human life was undermined and disregarded. Officers, who were supposed to uphold the law and ensure the safety and well-being of citizens, became agents of extrajudicial violence, driven by financial gain rather than the pursuit of justice.

Under this system, police officers were allegedly paid based on the number of drug suspects they killed, with some reports suggesting that the rewards were even tied to the quantity of drugs seized during an operation. This arrangement fostered a "kill or be killed" mentality, creating an environment where police officers were incentivized to use lethal force without regard for due process or the presumption of innocence. In many cases, victims were executed without an arrest, trial, or any meaningful effort to determine their guilt or innocence. Suspects were often gunned down in cold blood, their deaths chalked up to "encounters" or "resistance" during anti-drug operations, even though many of these individuals had not been given any opportunity to defend themselves or surrender peacefully. 

This incentivization of killing was, in essence, a perversion of the law enforcement process. Instead of arresting suspects and bringing them to trial—where evidence and due process would determine their guilt—police officers were motivated by the financial rewards associated with dead bodies. This created a perverse and deadly feedback loop, where police officers who had already killed multiple suspects were further rewarded, and those who did not meet their "kill quotas" were penalized or ostracized within the law enforcement community. This atmosphere of brutal competition and impunity not only dehumanized both the victims of these killings and the police officers carrying them out but also sent a clear message that killing could be a lucrative career path, while the basic principles of justice and the rule of law were eroded.

The consequences of this reward system were far-reaching, impacting not only the immediate victims of extrajudicial killings but also the wider Philippine society. As the body count mounted, the rule of law collapsed, replaced by a culture of fear, violence, and lawlessness. Communities that were already struggling with poverty and marginalization became breeding grounds for this lawless violence, as the police—who were supposed to protect them—became their executioners. In many cases, the people most affected by the drug war were the poor and the disenfranchised, who found themselves disproportionately targeted in these operations, often being killed or "disappeared" simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The rewards were often substantial, and in many instances, they were paid out by the government itself. The financial incentives for extrajudicial killings acted as a form of tacit government endorsement for this kind of lawlessness. Police officers who were part of this network would receive cash bonuses, gifts, or even promotions based on their success in eliminating drug suspects. In some cases, police officers who had been caught committing extrajudicial killings or other abuses were not disciplined but rather rewarded for their "effective" enforcement of Duterte’s brutal policies. The money earned from these kills would often go into the pockets of officers and their superiors, who maintained a system of corruption that allowed such violations of human rights to continue unchecked.

However, the reward system did not end with the police. Allegations surfaced that certain politicians, government officials, and private individuals with vested interests in the drug war were also involved in this deadly scheme, further muddying the waters of accountability and justice. Some reports suggested that political figures, including local government officials, may have been complicit in facilitating these extrajudicial killings, either by turning a blind eye or actively encouraging them in exchange for personal gain, including political favors, protection, or financial kickbacks. 

These political figures, often from the pro-Duterte camp, may have had various reasons for aligning themselves with the drug war. For some, it was an opportunity to secure their positions of power, riding on the wave of Duterte’s popularity among those who believed the drug war would bring about swift and decisive justice. Others may have seen the drug war as a way to maintain control over marginalized communities, using the fear of violence to keep local populations subdued and politically compliant. 

In addition to politicians, there were widespread reports of illegal syndicates and organized crime groups getting involved in the drug war, capitalizing on the lawlessness created by Duterte’s policies. The government’s supposed focus on eradicating illegal drug syndicates ironically benefited some of these groups. As the war on drugs eliminated rival syndicates, other criminal organizations seized the opportunity to fill the vacuum left behind. At the same time, some reports indicated that drug syndicates and illegal gambling groups, particularly those involved in offshore gaming operations (OGOs), were also implicated in funding the reward system that encouraged police to kill. These offshore gambling operations, often linked to money laundering schemes, reportedly funneled funds into the police network, ensuring the continuation of this deadly incentive program.

This added layer of complexity exposed a deeply troubling connection between the government’s anti-drug policy and the criminal underworld. It suggested that the drug war was not only about targeting drug users and dealers but also about securing financial resources for those in positions of power. Some individuals within law enforcement allegedly received payouts from criminal syndicates in exchange for information about operations or protection for illegal businesses, further blurring the lines between state-sanctioned violence and organized crime. 

The intertwining of state power with criminal interests under the guise of the drug war exposed the very real possibility that Duterte’s policies were not only morally indefensible but also strategically flawed. What was meant to be a crackdown on drug cartels and criminal activity instead became a system in which law enforcement officials, politicians, and even criminal syndicates benefited from the violence. The legal and moral costs of such a system were incalculable, as entire communities were subjected to unrelenting fear and violence while powerful figures continued to profit from the bloodshed.

As more and more details have emerged in the hearings and investigations into the drug war, the true extent of this deadly reward system has become clearer. The testimonies from former police officers, whistleblowers, and victims’ families paint a grim picture of a nation in which the very institutions that were supposed to protect its citizens became complicit in a nationwide campaign of violence. These revelations only add weight to the ongoing calls for accountability, as those responsible for these heinous acts must be held to account—whether they are the officers on the front lines or the high-ranking officials and politicians who enabled and profited from the system. 

The reward system ultimately highlighted the deep flaws in the Duterte administration’s approach to governance. It exposed the extent to which the drug war was not about justice or law enforcement but about consolidating power through fear, violence, and corruption. It also underscored the tragic human toll of the drug war: a system in which those who were supposed to protect citizens became the very perpetrators of violence, and the most vulnerable members of society paid the ultimate price.

Again, will they Downplay? Deny?

Indeed, those who benefitted from the brutal system of extrajudicial killings in the "War on Drugs" have a vested interest in downplaying or even denying the existence of the drug war's most horrific outcomes. This strategy mirrors the tactics employed by those who deny historical atrocities, such as Holocaust denial, wherein individuals or groups attempt to minimize, distort, or completely erase the reality of what occurred, often to protect their own interests or avoid facing the consequences of their actions.

In the case of the Duterte administration’s war on drugs, this denial takes several forms. Supporters of the drug war, including high-ranking officials and allies of Duterte, have often sought to deflect responsibility by shifting the blame onto the opposition, accusing them of "politicizing" the issue for their own agendas. By framing the issue as a political attack, they attempt to undermine the legitimacy of calls for accountability. The assertion that the opposition is “politicizing” the issue implies that the deaths, while tragic, are secondary to the perceived need for political stability or the “greater good” of Duterte’s drug-fighting campaign. This rhetorical tactic serves to shift the focus away from the violence and its victims, redirecting public attention to the supposed motives of those demanding justice.

Moreover, proponents of the drug war frequently attempt to deflect blame by framing the victims as either complicit or deserving of their fate. They argue that those who were killed were drug dealers, addicts, or members of criminal syndicates, implying that their deaths were a natural, inevitable outcome of their illegal activities. This narrative allows the perpetrators of violence to absolve themselves of guilt, suggesting that the victims were not innocent but rather active participants in criminality deserving of punishment outside the law. 

This form of justification, however, ignores the fundamental principles of due process and human rights. By focusing on the alleged guilt of the victims, the government and its supporters seek to create a moral justification for extrajudicial killings, distancing themselves from the cold, calculated violence that became the hallmark of the drug war. In doing so, they not only obscure the full scope of the human rights abuses committed but also create a dangerous precedent where the lives of the most vulnerable are devalued.

The analogy to the controversial "Holocaust denial" is not without merit, particularly in the way it seeks to minimize the scale of the tragedy or to deny that it even took place. Holocaust deniers, for example, often downplay or ignore the vast number of victims, dismissing the scale of the atrocity as exaggerated or fabricated. Similarly, supporters of the drug war have downplayed the alarming statistics of extrajudicial killings, either by denying that such deaths occurred systematically or by claiming that the numbers are inflated or politically motivated. They argue that the media, human rights groups, and international organizations have exaggerated the figures to discredit the government’s efforts. This tactic is especially prevalent when the death toll is questioned or when calls for an independent investigation arise—those who benefit from the war on drugs seek to paint such inquiries as mere political stunts, suggesting that the real issue is not the loss of life but the "dangers" posed by those seeking to destabilize the government.

This denial extends not only to the magnitude of the killings but also to the systemic nature of the violence. By framing the drug war as an isolated series of operations, disconnected from the overarching policies and incentives that underpinned it, those in power hope to erase the narrative of state-sponsored violence. They dismiss the evidence that the war was structured around rewards for killings, turning a blind eye to the corruption, criminal syndicates’ involvement, and the lack of accountability within the police force. As with Holocaust denial, the goal is to obfuscate the historical truth in order to protect the reputations of those who profited from the violence or were complicit in its execution.

In a perverse twist, those defending the war on drugs may even attempt to blame the victims themselves, accusing them of contributing to their own deaths by their association with drugs, crime, or gang activities. This rhetoric places the blame for their deaths squarely on the shoulders of the victims, suggesting that they brought about their own fatal outcome through their lifestyle choices or criminal behavior. By framing the narrative in this way, Duterte's supporters attempt to absolve the state and its enforcers from responsibility for the deaths, shifting the moral burden onto the deceased. It is a form of victim-blaming that absolves perpetrators of their crimes and undermines the rights of individuals to live without fear of arbitrary execution. 

What this denial ultimately does is to strip the victims of their humanity, turning them into statistics or faceless casualties in a larger, impersonal war. It allows those in power to continue with impunity, knowing that they can rely on the apathy or confusion sown by these misleading narratives. By downplaying the true scale of the drug war’s violence and framing it as a necessary or even inevitable consequence of eradicating drugs, those who defended Duterte’s policies seek to preserve their political power, evade responsibility for their actions, and avoid facing the moral and legal consequences of their role in creating a climate of violence.

This denial also serves to disempower the families of the victims, who are left to mourn the loss of their loved ones in a society where the state offers little recourse for justice. Many of the victims were not hardened criminals, but impoverished individuals caught in the crossfire of a brutal campaign. Families who seek answers are often told by those in power that their loved ones were “just drug users” or “members of criminal syndicates,” minimizing their grief and delegitimizing their calls for justice. 

The refusal to confront the truth of the war on drugs—as it was carried out under Duterte’s administration—continues to be a profound injustice. Those who deny the full extent of the violence or downplay the role of the government in orchestrating these killings are not only perpetuating a culture of impunity but also reinforcing a dangerous narrative that legitimizes extrajudicial violence as an acceptable tool of governance. Just as those who denied the atrocities of past genocides distorted history to suit their agendas, so too do defenders of the drug war distort the facts in order to protect those who benefit from the suffering of others. 

In this light, the struggle for justice is not just about holding individuals accountable for their actions but also about confronting the pervasive culture of denial that seeks to erase the truth. The drug war cannot be swept under the rug of political convenience or ignored in favor of maintaining power. The victims deserve recognition, the families deserve justice, and the Philippine people deserve to know the full extent of the human cost of Duterte’s policies. Only by confronting the truth can any real healing begin—both for the victims and for a nation that has yet to fully reckon with its past.

Looking Forward: The Path to Accountability

As these investigations continue, there remains a pressing question: will anyone truly be held accountable for the countless lives lost in the drug war? The hearings, despite their differing approaches between the Senate and the House, serve as a platform for victims and whistleblowers to expose the corruption, the abuse of power, and the systemic violations that occurred under the guise of public safety.

While Duterte’s allies in the Senate continue to protect the former president and the policy from full scrutiny, the efforts of the Quad Committee in the House have shed light on the intricate web of corruption and extrajudicial violence that characterized the drug war. Public sentiment is shifting, with many calling for justice not just for the victims but for the restoration of faith in the Philippine justice system.

Ultimately, the truth about the drug war—and the accountability of those who orchestrated and carried it out—remains elusive. However, these hearings are part of a larger struggle to expose the darker truths of the Duterte administration’s policies and the harm they caused to Philippine society. The full extent of the human cost remains to be seen, but one thing is clear: the push for justice will not be easily silenced, and the echoes of this bloody legacy will reverberate for years to come.