From the bustling streets of Manila to the imposing halls of The Hague, the saga of former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte has taken a dramatic and unprecedented turn. In a historic move, Duterte now faces a pivotal pre-trial hearing before the International Criminal Court (ICC), with proceedings originally scheduled for September 23 to 26, 2025. The world is watching closely as the ICC weighs whether to try Duterte for crimes against humanity stemming from his notorious "war on drugs."
The roots of this high-stakes legal drama stretch back to 2016, when Duterte swept into office on a wave of populist support and a promise to eradicate illegal drugs. What followed, according to BBC and Human Rights Watch, was a campaign that quickly morphed into a bloody crackdown. Official police figures, cited by the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency and the Philippine National Police, report between 6,191 and 8,663 drug-related deaths as of 2021. But human rights groups and ICC investigators argue the real toll could be far higher—between 27,000 and 30,000—when vigilante killings and "homicides under investigation" are included.
ICC prosecutors allege these deaths were not isolated incidents but part of a deliberate, systematic policy that targeted civilians, often from poor communities. The scope of the case even extends to Duterte's earlier years as mayor of Davao City, where similar patterns of violence were documented. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, the killings were so widespread and organized that they amount to crimes against humanity—serious offenses committed against civilian populations on a massive scale.
The government, for its part, has tried to paint a different picture. Officials report rescuing 3,922 minors from drug-related environments, arresting 13,244 so-called "high value targets" (including government officials, police, and foreign nationals), and seizing over ₱64 billion worth of drugs, including 8,374 kilograms of shabu. Still, the sharp gap between official numbers and independent estimates remains one of the most contentious aspects of the case. Human rights advocates argue that the government’s lower figures minimize the human toll, while international investigators point to thousands of deaths that never made it into official reports.
As the ICC prepared for the confirmation of charges hearing—a 16-hour proceeding spread across four days—three parties readied their cases. The prosecution aimed to show that the killings were systematic and state-sanctioned. The defense, as reported by Rappler, was expected to challenge the ICC’s jurisdiction and dispute Duterte’s personal responsibility. Meanwhile, the Office of Public Counsel for Victims (OPCV), representing over 300 victims, sought to highlight how the campaign disproportionately targeted the poor and marginalized, rather than major traffickers.
But in a twist that further complicated matters, Duterte’s lawyer claimed the former president was suffering from cognitive impairment. This led the ICC to postpone the hearing, originally set for September 23, and reignited debate over Duterte’s fitness to stand trial. British-Israeli lawyer Nicholas Kaufman, representing Duterte, expressed hope that the Marcos Jr. administration would allow the former president’s interim release and return to the Philippines. In his words, “We hope the current government will permit his return home on humanitarian grounds.”
Family dynamics have also come to the fore. In August 2025, all four Duterte siblings visited their father in the ICC detention facility in The Hague, honoring his request for a family reunion ahead of the scheduled hearing. Vice President Sara Duterte, herself a powerful political figure, later revealed that her father is deeply frustrated by his inability to influence events back home. “He doesn’t want his frustration over not being able to do anything about what’s happening to the country to show,” she said, according to Philnews. Communication, she lamented, is difficult due to poor phone connections and her father’s changing moods. “It’s hard to comfort someone when you’re just talking on the phone and the line is choppy,” she added.
Meanwhile, the Philippines is roiled by a separate but equally explosive scandal: a flood control corruption mess that has implicated senators, congressmen, and officials from the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH). Dismissed engineer Brice Hernandez, now in Senate custody, is reportedly gathering evidence against his former boss, DPWH Bulacan District chief Henry Alcantara. The scandal has dominated headlines and further fueled national anxiety, with Vice President Sara Duterte expressing frustration at being left out of major decisions regarding the country’s response.
The political backdrop to Duterte’s legal woes is as complex as ever. The Philippines withdrew from the ICC in 2019, after Duterte himself pulled the plug on the country’s membership. However, the court retains jurisdiction over alleged crimes committed while the Philippines was still a member, and the killings at the heart of the case predate the withdrawal. This legal nuance has been fiercely contested by Duterte’s supporters, who frame the ICC proceedings as an affront to Philippine sovereignty. “The ICC has no jurisdiction over us,” Duterte’s camp maintains, echoing a popular refrain among his allies.
Yet the winds of political fortune have shifted. Initially, President Ferdinand "Bongbong" Marcos Jr.'s administration resisted cooperation with the ICC. But after the once-formidable Marcos-Duterte alliance fractured, the government’s stance changed. In September 2025, Duterte was arrested upon arrival in Manila from Hong Kong, after an ICC warrant was transmitted to authorities. Eyewitnesses described the 79-year-old former president as frail, walking with a cane, and visibly shaken as he was escorted to an air force base for processing. The rapid response signaled the Marcos administration’s determination to execute the warrant—a move seen by some as both a legal obligation and a calculated political maneuver.
International reactions have been predictably mixed. China, which is not a signatory to the ICC, has warned against politicizing the process, suggesting the case reflects local rivalries more than a genuine quest for justice. In contrast, the European Union and the United States have expressed support for the ICC’s efforts, framing accountability as a cornerstone of international law. The case is also a test for the ICC itself, which has long faced criticism for selective enforcement and limited power to bring high-profile defendants to trial. Should the charges against Duterte be confirmed and a trial proceed, it would mark a rare and significant victory for the court.
For now, the Philippines finds itself at a crossroads. The outcome of the ICC proceedings could reshape the country’s political landscape, diminish the Duterte clan’s influence, and set a precedent for how future leaders weigh accountability against impunity. As The Hague awaits its next move, so too does a nation grappling with its past, its politics, and the enduring question of justice.