On October 9, 2025, the Philippine Senate passed a resolution urging the International Criminal Court (ICC) to place former president Rodrigo Duterte under house arrest—a move that has ignited fierce debate across the nation and drawn condemnation from legal experts, human rights advocates, and international observers. Critics have lambasted the Senate’s action as a hollow, legally toothless gesture, accusing lawmakers of prioritizing political optics over true accountability and justice for the thousands of victims of Duterte’s controversial drug war.
According to commentary published by tonylavina.com, the Senate’s resolution is not just legally baseless within the ICC’s own framework, but also morally corrosive. The piece argues that by framing Duterte as a figure deserving of comfort and protection, the Senate transforms justice into what it calls “political theater”—a performance intended to appease Duterte’s allies, project loyalty, and deflect scrutiny from the institutions that enabled his campaign. The resolution, critics say, betrays a profound misunderstanding of international law and dangerously conflates politics with the pursuit of justice.
“The Senate’s gesture is not only irrelevant to ICC proceedings but may actually reinforce the Court’s concern about political interference,” the commentary notes, emphasizing that the ICC is guided by evidence and procedure, not by the shifting winds of domestic political sentiment. The article further warns that such actions risk eroding the notion of accountability in the Philippines, especially when legislative bodies appear to weaponize ignorance of international law to manipulate public sentiment.
Meanwhile, the Senate’s move has been interpreted by some as a chilling message: that political power, not justice, determines who is worthy of compassion. This reframing, critics argue, sanitizes state brutality and signals to future leaders that accountability for mass violence is negotiable. “By prioritizing the comfort of the accused over justice for victims, the Senate effectively spits on the graves of thousands of Filipinos whose lives were brutally cut short,” the commentary asserts. It’s a vivid reminder of the high human cost of Duterte’s war on drugs, which, according to government records, resulted in the deaths of over 6,000 drug suspects, while human rights organizations estimate the toll may have reached as high as 30,000.
In a parallel development that has further fueled outrage, the Integrated Bar of the Philippines (IBP)—the country’s premier legal institution—awarded Duterte an honor, a move described as a betrayal of the legal profession’s ethical foundations and an endorsement of impunity. The tonylavina.com article argues that the IBP’s gesture “desecrates” the idea of justice, transforming the institution from a guardian of the rule of law into an accomplice of revisionism. For families of extrajudicial killing (EJK) victims, many of whom lost loved ones in the drug war, the award is seen as an unthinkable insult and a rewriting of their suffering out of history.
The legal and political drama has played out against the backdrop of former President Duterte’s detention at the Hague Penitentiary Institution, where he faces charges of crimes against humanity in connection with his administration’s bloody anti-drug campaign. On the same day as the Senate’s resolution, Duterte’s legal counsel, Nicholas Kaufman, questioned the ICC Registry’s claim that Duterte had consented to the submission of his medical information. In a four-page document, Kaufman asked the Pre-Trial Chamber to disclose all documents containing Duterte’s signed consent, stating that neither Duterte’s counsel nor Duterte himself had seen any such written authorization or been allowed to keep the medical report.
“Mr. Duterte reported feeling intimidated,” Kaufman wrote, adding that the validity of any so-called informed written consent was “strenuously disputed” due to Duterte’s alleged cognitive impairment. The defense team has previously argued for an indefinite adjournment of the confirmation of charges hearing, citing medical reports that suggest Duterte suffers from cognitive impairment. However, the ICC Registry has clarified that its medical officer is not authorized to assess Duterte’s fitness to stand trial, and prosecutors have since recommended three independent experts in forensic psychiatry, neuropsychology, and behavioral neurology to evaluate his condition.
While these developments have unfolded internationally, Vice President Sara Duterte—daughter of the former president—has been waging her own battles on the home front. In January 2025, she publicly considered a run for the presidency in 2028, vowing to continue serving despite a drastically cut operations budget amid controversies over confidential funds. The political pressure intensified on February 5, when 240 lawmakers signed a fourth impeachment complaint against her, accusing her of conspiracy, malversation of funds, betrayal of public trust, culpable violation of the Constitution, bribery, high crimes, and acts of destabilization.
Speaker Martin Romualdez justified the complaint as a constitutional necessity, arguing that no official should be above the law. Vice President Duterte, however, responded cryptically: “Despite all my statements about impeachment in the past months, the only thing that I can say at this point is: God Save the Philippines.” Her camp quickly filed a petition before the Supreme Court seeking to nullify the impeachment case, and on July 25, the court ruled the complaint unconstitutional, citing the rule that only one impeachment complaint may be filed against a public official per year.
Amid these domestic challenges, Sara Duterte condemned her father’s arrest at Ninoy Aquino International Airport on March 10 and his subsequent transfer to The Hague. She called the arrest “a blatant affront to our sovereignty and an insult to every Filipino who believes in our nation’s independence,” and claimed that her father was denied his fundamental rights upon arrival in the Netherlands. She has since visited him almost daily at Scheveningen Prison, assembled a defense team led by Nicholas Kaufman, and traveled to at least 11 countries—including Malaysia, Qatar, Australia, and Japan—to rally support among Filipino communities abroad.
Despite her frequent international travels, the Office of the Vice President (OVP) maintains that she remains in control through digital communication, with OVP Spokesman Ruth Castelo noting, “There are competent and able people in the Office of the Vice President who can work without the vice president. If there are only important decisions, it has to be cleared with her.” During the May 2025 elections, Sara Duterte campaigned for candidates closely tied to her father and continued her relentless criticism of the Marcos administration, accusing it of colluding with the ICC to “abduct” her father and failing to focus on public service.
As the dust settles from these extraordinary events, the Philippines finds itself at a crossroads. The Senate’s resolution and the IBP’s award are seen by many as twin symptoms of a deeper malaise—a willingness to subordinate justice to politics, distort the narrative of accountability, and weaken institutional integrity. For the families of victims and for those who still believe in the rule of law, the struggle for truth and redress continues, even as the nation’s most powerful institutions appear to turn their backs on them.
In the end, the ICC’s pursuit of accountability stands in stark contrast to the actions of Philippine lawmakers and legal institutions, which, critics argue, seem more eager to absolve and celebrate the very figure accused of orchestrating mass violence. The question now is whether the country can rediscover its moral compass and restore faith in justice—before history renders its final verdict.
