Looking Back: The Hollow Promises and Lasting Legacy of Duterte’s Populism
When Rodrigo Duterte launched his presidential campaign in 2016, his rhetoric struck a chord with the disillusioned masses who felt neglected by the political establishment for decades. He championed the causes of peace, order, and populist nationalism, promising a safer, more sovereign Philippines with an end to social injustice. For many ordinary Filipinos, these promises were a beacon of hope in a country plagued by corruption, crime, and inequality. The image he painted was one of a strong leader who would cut through bureaucracy and bring about the much-needed change. His popularity soared, and his message resonated deeply with a people yearning for a shift from institutional stagnancy.
But, as history tends to reveal, the appeal of populist promises often fades once the veneer of change is peeled away. Duterte’s administration may have indeed created an “atmosphere of peace” in some sectors, particularly in urban areas where crime rates seemed to drop. However, the very same people who once supported his vision now find themselves disillusioned by the hollow rhetoric that fueled his rise to power. The promises that seemed so vital to his campaign turned out to be little more than tactical soundbites meant to rally voters — tools to secure power rather than sincere calls for reform.
Duterte himself, in private moments, admitted that his populist promises were often just that: promises. The “war on drugs,” the cornerstone of his administration, was presented as a bold crusade against crime, but it quickly devolved into an issue of extrajudicial killings that the international community, as well as human rights organizations, condemned. At home, while some praised the crackdown, others began to question the real cost of such methods. Was this the kind of peace Duterte promised — a peace achieved by fear and violence?
Furthermore, the broader promises of Duterte — the promises of national sovereignty, agrarian justice, and industrialization — remained largely unfulfilled. His “independent foreign policy,” which he touted as an assertion of national pride, ended up being more about appeasing China than asserting the Philippines’ interests. Despite his fiery rhetoric about taking a stand in the South China Sea, Duterte’s actions painted a different picture — one of acquiescence and dependence on foreign powers. The grand promise to make the Philippines a self-sufficient, industrialized nation also fell flat. The reality was a series of token “reforms” designed to placate the electorate, but not address the deeper structural issues that have plagued the country for decades.
The most glaring example of Duterte’s disconnection from the real needs of the people came during the COVID-19 pandemic. Instead of relying on experts, doctors, and scientists to guide the country through the crisis, Duterte treated the pandemic as yet another matter of peace and order. His decision to place generals and policemen at the forefront of the government’s response was a stark reminder of his militarized approach to governance. The so-called “Task Force” to combat the pandemic did little to address the pressing health concerns of Filipinos, focusing instead on enforcing lockdowns with an iron fist. Duterte’s handling of the situation revealed the true nature of his leadership style: authoritarian, populist, and fundamentally disconnected from the reality of the people he swore to serve.
In retrospect, Duterte’s promises — whether of a drug-free society, a sovereign nation, or agrarian justice — were often just empty words designed to secure the loyalty of the masses. His government might have created the illusion of order, but beneath that façade, the country remained stuck in the same cycle of corruption and inequality. Duterte’s “change” was little more than a carefully constructed illusion, a fantasy built on the hopes and dreams of ordinary Filipinos who, in the end, were betrayed.
Even now, as the Marcos administration seeks to undo some of Duterte’s more radical policies, the remnants of his populism remain entrenched in the national psyche. The fantasy of a strong, authoritarian figure who can single-handedly fix the country is still alive, albeit more subdued. Duterte’s legacy, however, is not one of meaningful change, but of fractured promises, broken systems, and a people who have been left to pick up the pieces of a government that promised much but delivered so little.
In looking back after the Duterte era, we are left with the hard truth: the cost of populist promises is often too high. The lure of easy solutions and the appeal of strongman politics can be tempting, but they rarely result in the deep, systemic changes that are needed to build a more just, equitable society. The future of the Philippines lies not in the rhetoric of populism, but in the hard work of creating real, lasting change — a change that addresses the root causes of inequality, corruption, and injustice, rather than merely masking them with promises of order and control.
But, as history tends to reveal, the appeal of populist promises often fades once the veneer of change is peeled away. Duterte’s administration may have indeed created an “atmosphere of peace” in some sectors, particularly in urban areas where crime rates seemed to drop. However, the very same people who once supported his vision now find themselves disillusioned by the hollow rhetoric that fueled his rise to power. The promises that seemed so vital to his campaign turned out to be little more than tactical soundbites meant to rally voters — tools to secure power rather than sincere calls for reform.
Duterte himself, in private moments, admitted that his populist promises were often just that: promises. The “war on drugs,” the cornerstone of his administration, was presented as a bold crusade against crime, but it quickly devolved into an issue of extrajudicial killings that the international community, as well as human rights organizations, condemned. At home, while some praised the crackdown, others began to question the real cost of such methods. Was this the kind of peace Duterte promised — a peace achieved by fear and violence?
Furthermore, the broader promises of Duterte — the promises of national sovereignty, agrarian justice, and industrialization — remained largely unfulfilled. His “independent foreign policy,” which he touted as an assertion of national pride, ended up being more about appeasing China than asserting the Philippines’ interests. Despite his fiery rhetoric about taking a stand in the South China Sea, Duterte’s actions painted a different picture — one of acquiescence and dependence on foreign powers. The grand promise to make the Philippines a self-sufficient, industrialized nation also fell flat. The reality was a series of token “reforms” designed to placate the electorate, but not address the deeper structural issues that have plagued the country for decades.
The most glaring example of Duterte’s disconnection from the real needs of the people came during the COVID-19 pandemic. Instead of relying on experts, doctors, and scientists to guide the country through the crisis, Duterte treated the pandemic as yet another matter of peace and order. His decision to place generals and policemen at the forefront of the government’s response was a stark reminder of his militarized approach to governance. The so-called “Task Force” to combat the pandemic did little to address the pressing health concerns of Filipinos, focusing instead on enforcing lockdowns with an iron fist. Duterte’s handling of the situation revealed the true nature of his leadership style: authoritarian, populist, and fundamentally disconnected from the reality of the people he swore to serve.
In retrospect, Duterte’s promises — whether of a drug-free society, a sovereign nation, or agrarian justice — were often just empty words designed to secure the loyalty of the masses. His government might have created the illusion of order, but beneath that façade, the country remained stuck in the same cycle of corruption and inequality. Duterte’s “change” was little more than a carefully constructed illusion, a fantasy built on the hopes and dreams of ordinary Filipinos who, in the end, were betrayed.
Even now, as the Marcos administration seeks to undo some of Duterte’s more radical policies, the remnants of his populism remain entrenched in the national psyche. The fantasy of a strong, authoritarian figure who can single-handedly fix the country is still alive, albeit more subdued. Duterte’s legacy, however, is not one of meaningful change, but of fractured promises, broken systems, and a people who have been left to pick up the pieces of a government that promised much but delivered so little.
In looking back after the Duterte era, we are left with the hard truth: the cost of populist promises is often too high. The lure of easy solutions and the appeal of strongman politics can be tempting, but they rarely result in the deep, systemic changes that are needed to build a more just, equitable society. The future of the Philippines lies not in the rhetoric of populism, but in the hard work of creating real, lasting change — a change that addresses the root causes of inequality, corruption, and injustice, rather than merely masking them with promises of order and control.