THERE IS A tragic poetry to the spectacle now unfolding.
For years, the catechism of the Duterte faithful was simple and savage: the drug war was necessary. It kept the streets safe. Addicts were vermin. Better them than your own children. If an addict rapes or kills, does he deserve to live? They hurled this at us not as an argument but as moral intimidation. It hit the gut, not the head. It was meant to silence.
Now comes Duterte’s lawyer, Nicholas Kaufman, speaking in defense of his client before the world. And what does he say? That Duterte’s “kill, kill” pronouncements were merely warnings. That they were rhetorical flourishes. That the former president did not literally order the killings.
Notice what he did not say.
He did not deny that killings happened. He did not challenge the allegation that thousands died. He did not claim the bloodshed was fabricated.
Instead, he justified it. The drug problem was severe. The country was drowning in narcotics. Only Rodrigo Duterte had the courage to confront it head-on.
In other words: yes, people died — but it was necessary. It was only the critics, the traditional media, the human rights groups, the colonialists who made it appear otherwise.
And there lies the bind.
For years, the defenders of the drug war glorified the body count. “One time, big time.” They cheered the “32 in one day.” They applauded the spectacle. When Duterte joked that he wanted more “32 a day,” they laughed along. They posted memes. They called it decisive leadership. They called it political will.
Now, before the International Criminal Court, the tune must change. Suddenly, the words were metaphors. Suddenly, the speeches were warnings. Suddenly, the police acted on their own.
But you cannot build a political movement on blood and then wash your hands of it when the reckoning comes.
This is not merely a legal strategy. It is psychological survival. Kaufman’s statements are clearly meant to appease and reassure the base. To tell them: do not panic, we are still standing by the righteousness of the cause. The drug war was good. The intention was pure. The outcome justified the means.
But here is the brutal irony: the more they justify the killings, the more they strengthen the prosecution’s case.
Crimes against humanity are not about isolated rogue acts. They are about widespread or systematic attacks against civilians. They are about policy. They are about intent. They are about public pronouncements that signal permission, encouragement, protection.
And what have the DDS been doing for years?
They have been proclaiming that the killings were systematic. They have been celebrating that they were widespread. They have been arguing that they were necessary and deliberate.
Every time they say, “Yes, addicts deserved to die,” they concede the moral architecture of the crime. Every time they insist, “It was the only way,” they affirm intent. Every time they claim the drug war produced good outcomes, they admit it was purposeful.
They think they are defending Duterte.
NO! They are testifying against him.
In my previous writings, I have said that the most dangerous feature of the drug war was not only the killing itself but the normalization of killing. The transformation of state violence into civic virtue. The conversion of police bullets into badges of patriotism.
We saw how the police were assured protection. We saw how “nanlaban” became a ritual incantation. We saw how operations like Tokhang and Double Barrel were institutionalized. We saw how fear replaced due process.
The DDS cheered all of this.
They said preemptive killing was justified. They said addicts were beyond reform. They stripped entire communities of humanity for the comfort of feeling safe.
Now, their own lawyer says Duterte did not really mean “kill.” He was just warning.
But which is it?
Was the drug war a glorious campaign that saved the nation — or was it a misunderstood set of rhetorical excesses?
You cannot have both.
If Duterte merely warned, then the killings were rogue acts, crimes committed by police officers acting without presidential blessing. In that case, why defend the drug war as righteous? Why celebrate the dead?
If, on the other hand, the killings were necessary and justified responses to a grave threat — then you concede they were intentional, systematic, and policy-driven.
That is the trap.
Silence would have been smarter. If they truly wanted Duterte released, they would stop glorifying the bloodshed. They would stop calling the victims names. They would express remorse. They would say mistakes were made. They would humanize the dead.
But they cannot.
The movement was built on the premise that killing was strength. That brutality was authenticity. That compassion was weakness. To abandon that now is to admit that the entire moral crusade was a lie.
So they double down.
They insist the killings were for a good purpose, produced a good outcome, and therefore were justified. They cling to this creed in cult fashion, as if repetition could turn blood into policy success.
Yet international law does not measure morality by applause. It measures conduct by evidence.
And the evidence is not only in police reports or forensic files. It is in speeches. It is in public assurances. It is in the pattern. It is in the repeated declaration that criminals would be killed, that the president would protect those who did it, that human rights were obstacles to be brushed aside.
The defense’s dilemma is clear. They cannot deny the killings happened; too many graves, too many widows and orphans, too many testimonies. So they minimize the language. They soften the verbs. They call “neutralization” a warning, not an extermination.
But words matter.
When a head of state repeatedly says he will kill, encourages killing, promises protection to killers, and thousands die in operations that follow that script, those are not stray metaphors. They are signals.
And here is the final irony: the more the DDS insist the drug war was necessary, the more they reinforce the argument that it was systematic. The more they say it saved the nation, the more they imply it was policy. The more they glorify it, the more they prove intent.
They are trapped in a bind of their own making.
If they admit the killings were wrong, they betray the myth that sustained them. If they continue to justify the killings, they help build the legal architecture that will convict their hero.
This is what happens when politics becomes blood sport. When governance is reduced to slogans and bullets. When a nation is told that safety requires surrendering its soul.
The DDS want to have it both ways: to celebrate the violence and deny responsibility for it. But history is not so easily manipulated. Nor is international law.
Every chant that the drug war was necessary is another brick sealing the cell. Every defense that it was justified is another confession by proxy.
And so the bind tightens.
#thefilipinocriminologist