A Hollow Justification: Why Using Russia, China, and the United States to Reject the International Criminal Court is Deeply Flawed

A Hollow Justification: 

Why Using Russia, China, and the United States

to Reject the International Criminal Court is Deeply Flawed

In recent years, the question of whether the Philippines should rejoin the International Criminal Court (ICC) has sparked heated debate. As investigations into alleged human rights violations gain traction on the international stage, some voices within the country have called for rejecting international scrutiny altogether. They argue that justice should be dealt with exclusively within national borders and that global institutions have no place intervening in sovereign affairs. 

Among those voices is Samuel Rusiana, who stated, “There is no need for the Philippines to join the International Criminal Court. What we should strengthen is our own justice system.” He added that not even the presidents of the United States or Russia—despite their graver human rights violations—have been held accountable by the ICC. 

At face value, his statement appears to defend national sovereignty and judicial independence. However, the argument collapses upon closer scrutiny. Citing the absence of the United States, China, and Russia from the ICC as justification for the Philippines to do the same reveals a flawed and dangerous logic: that if powerful countries avoid international accountability, others should follow suit. 

But must these three nations be the standard for how global justice is approached? All three have complex relationships with international law and often act based on strategic self-interest rather than a commitment to universal principles. Their refusal to join or comply with the ICC should not be seen as a badge of sovereignty, but rather as an indication of their geopolitical privilege. 

In stark contrast stands the United Kingdom—an equally sovereign nation with a robust legal system that nonetheless remains a signatory to the ICC. Its participation signals that international cooperation on justice is not a weakness but a moral and institutional strength. It recognizes that domestic systems, no matter how developed, can benefit from and contribute to a broader framework of accountability. 

To call international oversight “interference” may soon lead to the downplaying—if not outright erosion—of human rights. In fact, this erosion already manifested during the Duterte administration, when human rights activists were openly threatened. These were not idle words; they were backed by real consequences. Supporters applauded such threats, branding dissenters as accomplices in subversion against the state. But if expressing dissent and asserting social justice is deemed subversion, then so be it—for that has always been the cry of the oppressed, whether resisting a foreign colonizer or a domestic tyrant. History shows that when justice is silenced, movements for liberation often rise in its place. 

Critics note the irony that a country like the Philippines, which frequently invokes democracy, liberty, and global cooperation, would cite authoritarian or self-interested powers as models for rejecting international justice. This contradiction is glaring: how can a state claim to uphold democratic values while resisting the very mechanisms designed to protect them? 

Moreover, the argument that the Philippines should not participate in the ICC simply because certain major powers do not, is a race to the bottom. If global accountability mechanisms are abandoned on the basis that some countries ignore them, then no standard remains. By that logic, any international institution that exerts scrutiny—such as the United Nations—could be dismissed as “interference.” 

Such reasoning reflects a narrow and defensive worldview. It views international scrutiny not as an opportunity for growth or reform, but as a threat to national pride. But mature democracies do not run from accountability; they embrace it, recognizing that justice transcends borders. 

In truth, the ICC is not about punishing countries. It exists to ensure that no individual—regardless of office or influence—is above the law. To resist it is to resist that very principle. The Philippines, like any nation committed to the rule of law, should not fear participation. It should see in it a reflection of its highest democratic ideals. 

If justice is truly the goal, then strengthening domestic institutions and engaging with international ones are not mutually exclusive—they are necessary complements. The world watches not only what the Philippines says about justice, but also how sincerely it is willing to pursue it. 

₱50 FOR THEIR SILENCE? A Wage Order in an Age of Hunger and Control

 ₱50 FOR THEIR SILENCE?

A Wage Order in an Age of Hunger and Control

On Monday, the NCR Wage Board approved a ₱50 across-the-board wage increase for workers in Metro Manila. Predictably, the decision is expected to set the tone for other regions, many of which will soon issue similar wage orders—uniform in modesty, uniform in disappointment. This minor adjustment comes despite the existence of two national wage hike proposals: a ₱100 increase passed by the Senate in 2024, and a ₱200 measure pushed through the House of Representatives before the June 13 recess of the 19th Congress. Both now lie dormant, effectively killed by inaction.

With the latest increase, Metro Manila’s minimum wage rises to ₱695 per day. But this remains a far cry from the ₱1,270 poverty threshold calculated by government before 2023—an amount already outdated yet still more than what most workers take home. The Constitution’s mandate for a living wage remains a promise unfulfilled.

Labor Secretary Bienvenido Laguesma confirmed that some 1.2 million workers stand to benefit from Wage Order No. 26, which the Department of Labor and Employment described as “the highest ever granted” by the NCR wage board. But this “record-breaking” increase offers little relief. In the face of surging prices of rice, electricity, transportation, and essential goods, ₱50 is barely enough to buy a day’s worth of decent food. It does not cover rent, medicine, or emergency needs.

The 'hike' is no 'hike' at all- a mockery rather

For many labor advocates, the outcry over the ₱50 hike is not merely about arithmetic—it is about the moral and political bankruptcy of the current economic order. 

“This P50 wage hike is not only out of touch with reality—it is outright insulting. It’s not a raise, it’s crumbs. BPO workers, who bring in billions of dollars in revenue and keep the economy afloat, deserve far more than this slap in the face,” said Mylene Cabalona, President of BPO Industry Employees Network (BIEN), representing workers in the Information Technology and Business Process Management (IT-BPM) sector. 

And make no mistake—the numbers speak volumes. In 2024 alone, the Information Technology and Business Process Management (IT-BPM) sector raked in a staggering $36.5 billion. That’s roughly 8.5% of the entire GDP. The sector employs 1.8 million Filipinos directly, most of them in NCR, and countless more indirectly. And yet, many of these workers take home less than ₱15,000 a month—well below the ₱36,000 estimated minimum required for a family to live with dignity in the capital.

“This is not just about numbers; it’s about justice. The government is perfectly aware that the wealth created by workers fuels the economy, yet they continue to give in to the greed of foreign and local capitalists,” added Cabalona. “We demand a significant across-the-board wage increase, the abolition of regional wage boards, and the enactment of a national minimum wage that reflects the real cost of living.”

How about those who call for 'austerity'? Is the increase worth contenting?

Meanwhile, the loudest opposition to wage increases continues to be framed in the language of productivity, discipline, and austerity. These terms, however, veil a harsher truth: that the poor must be content with less, and that their dignity is conditional upon business confidence.

According to an analysis by TB Board on the July 2025 hike in NCR and other regions it stated that: “The wage hike reflects the continued efforts to cushion the impact of inflation, maintain worker productivity, and balance the needs of employers and employees.” And this framing positions the ₱50 increase not just as a nominal rise, but as part of a broader economic strategy balancing cost-of-living needs and productivity.

The Philippine Chamber of Commerce and Industry has consistently opposed across-the-board wage hikes—raising concerns over inflation, competitiveness, and impact on SMEs, as they warned that such blanket increases would “lead to higher labor costs, consequently resulting in higher costs of goods and services, and inflation”; while the Makati Business Club (MBC) also opposed legislated increases larger than ₱35–₱50, arguing they may stoke inflation and should be left to regional boards.

It is not surprising that this boils down to an ideology that favors obedience over justice, and contentment over empowerment. Whether the alibi is about "letting the wage boards decide" or "make it a matter of choice for companies" over wages, it simply demands that workers remain docile in the face of rising living costs, while corporate profits surge and basic utilities are privatized. Critics of wage hikes often warn of “inflationary pressure,” yet they fall silent when transport fares spike or when monopolies raise the price of food staples overnight.

In this context, demanding higher wages is no longer a radical act—it is a survival imperative. The erosion of public services has left the wage as the last and only buffer against precarity. And when wages stagnate while inflation soars, workers are crushed—not just financially, but existentially.

What is left is the illusion of a thriving economy. Officials tout GDP growth and foreign investment while ignoring the daily struggles of the majority. Wage suppression is recast as “discipline.” Corporate giveaways are called “development.” And workers are told to tighten their belts in the name of national progress.

Still, the 'increase' ain't enough-
if not showing a system that fails to address the people's demand.

But beneath the numbers lies the truth: a system that does not serve the people, but pacifies them. The ₱50 increase is not a step forward—it is a silencing gesture. Too small to lift lives, just large enough to deflect criticism.

This is not merely an economic issue. It is a question of legitimacy. An economic order that requires the sacrifice of the many to maintain the comfort of the few is not sustainable—it is unjust. In such a framework, austerity becomes more than a policy—it becomes a mechanism of control.

And control is exactly what is being exercised. Workers are being told to wait, to be patient, to endure. But the question remains: for how long must they suffer before justice is more than just a word in the Constitution?

They do not lack discipline. What they lack is justice.