On December 20, 2025, lawmakers from Davao City took a bold legislative step that could reshape the boundaries of Philippine law on treason. In a move that has already stirred debate in legal and political circles, Davao City 1st District Representative Paolo “Pulong” Duterte, together with his son, 2nd District Representative Omar S. Duterte, and cousin, Puwersa ng Pilipinong Pandagat Representative Harold James T. Duterte, filed a bill seeking to criminalize the act of surrendering a Filipino national to a foreign state or international organization. This act, under their proposal, would be classified as treason—a crime traditionally reserved for acts of war against the nation.
The proposed amendment to Article 114 of the Revised Penal Code is specific: it would penalize "any Filipino citizen who surrenders a Filipino national to a foreign state or other international body, which results in or leads to the interrogation, imprisonment, or death of the said national." The consequences would be severe. If passed, violators could face reclusion perpetua (imprisonment from 20 years and one day to 40 years) up to the death penalty, a fine not exceeding P4 million, and, if the perpetrator is a public officer, immediate removal from office.
Currently, Article 114 punishes "any Filipino citizen who levies war against the Philippines or adheres to her enemies, giving them aid or comfort within the Philippines or elsewhere." However, as the Supreme Court has clarified, treason is an offense that can only be committed during war with another state. In the words of the Court, "Treason is a war crime. It is not an all-time offense. It cannot be committed in peace time. While there is peace, there are no traitors. Treason may be incubated when peace reigns. Treasonable acts may actually be perpetrated during peace, but there are no traitors until war has started."
This proposed change comes at a time when the Philippines is facing unprecedented legal and political scrutiny on the international stage. Just weeks prior to the bill's introduction, rumors swirled that the International Criminal Court (ICC) had issued an arrest warrant for Senator Ronald “Bato” Dela Rosa. Dela Rosa, who served as chief of the Philippine National Police from July 2016 to April 2018, was a key figure in the controversial war on drugs under then-President Rodrigo R. Duterte.
The context surrounding the bill is impossible to ignore. Former President Duterte himself was arrested on March 12, 2025, and is currently detained in The Hague, Netherlands. He faces charges of crimes against humanity—murder and attempted murder—allegedly committed between November 2011 and March 2019. The ICC proceedings have been closely watched both domestically and internationally, with fierce debate over the court’s jurisdiction and the implications for Philippine sovereignty.
On December 19, 2025, just a day before the Davao lawmakers filed their bill, the ICC victims’ counsel publicly urged the court to reject the defense’s request to access the identities of victims in Duterte’s trial. According to ABS-CBN, this was a significant moment in the ongoing legal battle, as the ICC has already denied Duterte’s requests for interim release and has asserted its jurisdiction over the case. The victims’ counsel argued that revealing the identities of victims could jeopardize their safety and compromise the integrity of the proceedings.
In a press release from Rep. Paolo Duterte’s office, the motivation behind the new bill was made clear: "Every Filipino must be able to rely on their country—and its officials—for protection, not betrayal." The statement continued, "No government official should have the power to surrender a Filipino to foreign entities, especially when such actions are driven by political expediency or external pressure. Public office is a public trust." This sentiment echoes a longstanding principle in Philippine governance, where loyalty to the nation and its citizens is expected to outweigh all other interests.
The Duterte lawmakers further asserted, "Those who swear an oath to serve the Republic are expected to defend Filipino citizens, uphold national sovereignty, and place loyalty to the country above partisan or political interests." The timing of the bill, so close on the heels of the ICC’s actions and amid rumors of further warrants, has fueled speculation about its true intent. Is it a principled defense of national sovereignty, or a calculated response to mounting international pressure on political allies?
For critics, the proposed amendment raises thorny questions about the balance between international accountability and national sovereignty. The ICC’s involvement in the Philippines—especially in cases as high-profile as Duterte’s—has long been contentious. Supporters of the court argue that it provides a crucial check on abuses of power and ensures justice for victims when local institutions are unable or unwilling to act. Opponents, meanwhile, see the ICC’s actions as an infringement on Philippine independence and a threat to the country’s ability to manage its own affairs.
Legal scholars have pointed out that the Supreme Court’s interpretation of treason as a wartime offense is rooted in both Philippine and international legal tradition. Expanding the definition to include acts committed in peacetime, particularly those involving cooperation with international bodies, would be a significant departure. Some warn that such a change could have unintended consequences, potentially criminalizing legitimate cooperation with organizations like the ICC or even with foreign governments in cases involving transnational crime.
Supporters of the bill, however, argue that it is necessary to protect Filipino citizens from what they see as politically motivated prosecutions abroad. They point to the principle that "public office is a public trust" and insist that no official should ever betray a fellow Filipino for the sake of expediency or foreign pressure. In their view, the proposed amendment is a reaffirmation of the government’s duty to defend its people—no matter how controversial the circumstances.
The debate has also highlighted the broader question of how the Philippines should engage with international legal institutions. The country’s relationship with the ICC has been fraught for years, particularly since the court began investigating the war on drugs. While some see the ICC as a necessary safeguard against impunity, others argue that it undermines the country’s legal system and national dignity.
As the bill moves through the legislative process, it is sure to provoke further discussion—and perhaps even legal challenges. What is certain is that the stakes are high. The outcome will not only affect those currently facing international prosecution but could also set a precedent for how the Philippines navigates its obligations and rights in the global community.
In the end, the question at the heart of the debate remains: where should the line be drawn between loyalty to country and the demands of international justice? For now, lawmakers, legal experts, and ordinary Filipinos alike are watching closely, knowing that whatever happens next could shape the nation’s legal landscape for years to come.
