As world institutions wobble, The Hague has unexpectedly become the stage for a reckoning long denied in the Philippines.
Proceedings at the International Criminal Court (ICC) in late February offered a rare glimpse of accountability at a moment when global norms feel increasingly fragile. The court held a hearing in the case against former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte to confirm charges for crimes against humanity committed during the so‑called “war on drugs”.
For the families of those killed in the “drug war” watching tearfully from the public gallery, this hearing marked the first real step towards justice after years of violence, denial, and dehumanisation of their loved ones. As a Filipino lawyer and counsel for the victims, Joel Butuyan, told the court, “Truth is the antidote to the virus of impunity.”
A three-judge panel – women from Romania, Mexico and Benin – heard arguments from prosecutors, victims’ counsel, and Duterte’s defence lawyer. Their task was not to determine guilt, but to assess whether there is sufficient evidence for the case against Duterte to proceed to trial.
The case focuses on 49 incidents of alleged murder and attempted murder, involving 78 victims, including children, between November 2011 and March 2019, when the ICC still had jurisdiction over the Philippines. In March 2018, soon after the former ICC prosecutor announced a preliminary inquiry into the situation of the Philippines, Duterte withdrew the Philippines from the court’s membership, which became final one year later.
The case against Duterte covers his tenure as mayor of Davao City, in the southern Philippines, and the period after he was elected president in 2016. The prosecutors emphasised that the specific incidents they focused on represent only a fraction of the thousands of killings attributed to police and hired hitmen during Duterte’s anti-drug campaign.
I sat in the public gallery alongside victims’ families, activists, clergy, journalists, and lawyers who had traveled from the Philippines to witness a moment many never thought possible. Duterte’s supporters were there, too. But Duterte himself was absent as he waived his right to be present. His written statement declared that he did not recognize the court’s jurisdiction and claimed he had been “kidnapped”. His refusal to appear was obviously a disappointment for the victims’ families, hoping to see him in the dock.
Still, his voice echoed through the courtroom. Prosecutors played video after video of Duterte urging police to kill drug suspects and ignore legal restraints. In one chilling 2016 address, he warned: “If I become the president, I will order the military and the police to hunt down the drug lords, the big ones, and kill them.” Duterte’s lawyer argued that the prosecutors were selective in their approach to the speeches and that they missed critical information that would exonerate Duterte, including references to using force in self-defence.
Human Rights Watch has been reporting on Duterte’s “drug wars” since 2009, when we detailed the operations of the “Davao Death Squad” that targeted street children, petty criminals and drug suspects when Duterte was mayor. A 2017 Human Rights Watch report showed how Duterte’s “drug war” escalated nationwide after he was elected president.
The panel now has 60 days to decide whether the case will proceed to trial. But while the ICC deliberates, drug-related killings in the Philippines continue, though reduced from their peak during the Duterte administration.
Domestic accountability remains woefully inadequate. Nearly 10 years after the nationwide “drug war” began, five cases have resulted in convictions of a total of nine police officers. The vast majority of those responsible, including senior officials, remain untouched.
The political context is also fraught. Sending Duterte to The Hague may have suited the current president, Ferdinand Marcos Jr, allowing him to distance himself from the bloodiest excesses of his predecessor. But several of Duterte’s alleged co‑perpetrators – senior police officers and officials who helped transplant Davao City’s “neutralisation” strategies to the national stage – still wield influence or have gone into hiding.
The security architecture that enabled the killings within the national police force remains largely intact. With the wrong political signal, the violence could easily surge again.
Marcos now faces a defining choice. He can continue outsourcing justice to the ICC while tolerating a culture of impunity at home. Or he can demonstrate genuine commitment to accountability and the rule of law. Doing so would require a clear, public repudiation of the decade-long police operation underpinning the anti-drug campaign, and an explicit assurance that its methods are no longer acceptable state policy.
Marcos should also empower the Department of Justice to pursue investigations and prosecutions in earnest, and take steps to rejoin the ICC, which would, in turn, help strengthen domestic accountability efforts. Without credible domestic action, promises of reform will ring hollow.
This is a moment of reckoning for the Philippines. Families who have waited years for answers deserve more than political convenience; they deserve justice. Whatever the ICC decides in the coming months, the Philippine government need not – and should not – wait. Ending impunity and honouring the dignity of victims begins at home.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.