article / Global politics

International Criminal Court Directive: Systematic Adjudication of Crimes Against Humanity Charges in Duterte's War on Drugs

23/02/2026

International Criminal Court Hears Case Against Duterte: The Path to Accountability for the Philippines' "War on Drugs"

February 23, 2026, The Hague, Netherlands, Peace Palace. Inside the Pre-Trial Chamber of the International Criminal Court, the prosecutor began presenting evidence to the judges against former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte. The 80-year-old political figure faces three charges of crimes against humanity, centered on allegations that he led the war on drugs during his tenure as mayor of Davao and as president, which resulted in thousands of deaths. Duterte himself did not appear in court. He dismissed the charges as shameless lies and waived his right to attend, citing old age and poor health. This hearing is not a formal trial but a crucial procedure to determine whether the case will proceed to trial, with the result to be announced within 60 days. For the victims' families in Manila and human rights observers worldwide, this represents a potential practical step toward judicial accountability after nearly a decade of bloody anti-drug operations.

The charges in court relate to Davao's "execution squad."

Deputy Prosecutor Mame Mandiaye Niang's statement in court was specific and chilling. He accused Duterte of establishing and encouraging a system of killings driven by fear and money. In the southern city of Davao, Duterte was alleged to have organized a death squad consisting of police officers and professional assassins between 2013 and 2018, directly implicated in 76 murders and 2 attempted murders. The prosecutor described that for some perpetrators, killing even evolved into a perverse competition. This pattern rapidly expanded nationwide after his election as president in 2016, coinciding with the nationwide drug war.

Data reveals the brutal scale of this campaign. The official death toll acknowledged by the Philippine National Police in connection with anti-drug operations exceeds 6,000. However, human rights groups, including Amnesty International, estimate based on field investigations and media reports that the actual number of fatalities could be as high as 30,000. Among the dead are ordinary people like the two sons of Lore Pasco. In May 2017, her two sons left for work and never returned, later found with multiple gunshot wounds. There is also the 18-year-old brother of Sheila Escudero, whose body was discovered in 2017 tightly bound with packaging tape. These are not isolated cases but a microcosm of a vast group of victims.

Duterte's defense strategy has been confrontational from the outset. His legal team challenged the International Criminal Court's jurisdiction on the grounds that the Philippines had formally withdrawn from the Rome Statute in 2019. However, in September 2025, the court's judges dismissed this motion, explicitly stating that a state cannot abuse its rights by withdrawing from the Statute to shield alleged perpetrators already under the court's scrutiny. This ruling is currently under appeal, constituting the first legal dispute in this case.

From Davao to Manila: Domestic Reactions

While The Hague was conducting hearings, reactions within the Philippines were polarized. In Metro Manila, during events organized by multiple civic groups, over 100 family members of victims gathered in front of large television screens to watch the live broadcast of the hearings. Volunteer Randy Delos Santos said: "We hope the International Criminal Court, even though it is thousands of miles away, can ultimately bring justice for all these families." His 17-year-old nephew was shot and killed by three police officers during a so-called anti-drug raid in August 2017. The case had sparked public outrage and, in a rare outcome the following year, led to the three officers being convicted of murder by a Manila court.

In stark contrast is the anger of Duterte's supporters. They have directed their criticism at the administration of current President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., accusing it of facilitating the arrest and transfer of Duterte to a court whose jurisdiction they question. This accusation carries political undertones, as Marcos and the Duterte family, though descendants of political allies, are now clear rivals. Complicating matters further, Duterte's daughter, current Vice President Sara Duterte, announced last week her intention to run for president in 2028. In her statement, she criticized the current government's cooperation with the International Criminal Court's actions, which has been widely interpreted as a defense of her father's political legacy and a direct bid for future power.

Duterte's own response to this case has been a mix of contempt and pragmatism. In a letter to the court, he sarcastically explained his absence: unwilling to participate in legal proceedings he would forget just minutes later, and describing himself as old, tired, and weak. However, just last month, after reviewing medical reports, the court judge ruled that he is physically fit to stand trial. This portrayal of frailty subtly contrasts with the energetic, sharp-tongued public image he maintained during his tenure.

International Justice and the Game of Sovereignty: The Battle Over Jurisdiction

The core legal and political struggle in this case revolves around the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court. The timeline illustrates the contest between the two sides. In February 2018, the ICC Prosecutor announced the initiation of a preliminary examination into the violent anti-drug campaign in the Philippines. Then-President Duterte declared the start of the process to withdraw from the Rome Statute one month later—in March 2018. Human rights activists widely believe this move was intended to evade international accountability. According to the Statute, withdrawal takes effect one year after notification, thus the Philippines formally ceased to be a member state of the ICC in March 2019.

However, the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court includes a crucial provision: the Court may still exercise jurisdiction over crimes that occurred before a member state withdrew, or for which the Court had already initiated an investigation prior to the state's withdrawal. The Prosecutor argued that the alleged crimes committed by Duterte followed a pattern that continued from the Davao period into his presidency, and that the preliminary examination by the Court had already commenced before the Philippines withdrew. This was precisely the view upheld by the Pre-Trial Chamber in its ruling in September 2025. The judges wrote that states cannot be allowed to use withdrawal mechanisms to shield individuals from judicial accountability for alleged crimes that are already under consideration for trial.

This jurisdictional dispute goes beyond legal texts, touching on the deep-seated contradictions the International Criminal Court has faced since its establishment: the conflict between the ideal of global justice and the reality of national sovereignty. The Philippines is not the first country to have friction with the International Criminal Court, but the distinctiveness of its case lies in the fact that it directly involves a former national leader who gained high approval ratings through populism and extrajudicial justice. Duterte's substantial domestic support base means that any external judicial action could be framed by his camp as Western interference or neocolonialism, thereby intensifying nationalist sentiments.

Future Direction: Judicial Process and Philippine Politics

From now on, the direction of the case depends on several clear timelines and variables. The pre-trial hearing at The Hague is scheduled to conclude on February 27, after which the judges have 60 days to decide whether to confirm the charges. If confirmed, the case will proceed to trial, which could be a legal battle lasting several years. If dismissed, the prosecutor could theoretically appeal, but the case would suffer a major setback. The outcome of the Duterte legal team's appeal regarding the jurisdiction ruling is another parallel front to watch.

Regardless of the legal outcome, its impact on Philippine domestic politics has already become apparent. Vice President Sara Duterte's announcement of her presidential candidacy will make her father's judicial case one of the core issues in the 2028 election. She may adopt two strategies: one is to distance herself from her father's legacy and focus on her own political platform; the other is to fully embrace Duterteism, portraying the International Criminal Court's lawsuit as persecution against her family and political movement, thereby mobilizing core supporters. Currently, her statements lean toward the latter.

For the current Marcos administration, this is a delicate balancing act. On one hand, cooperating with the International Criminal Court's procedures may align with the expectations of the international community and human rights organizations, thereby improving the Philippines' image in certain diplomatic arenas. On the other hand, the government must carefully avoid being portrayed as an agent of foreign powers, which could anger the still-powerful base of Duterte supporters. Political observers in Manila note that in practice, the government has adopted a stance of technical cooperation rather than political advocacy, attempting to position itself as merely fulfilling legal obligations.

The expectations of the victims' families and civil society are clear and urgent, yet they are also tinged with apprehension. Sheila Escudero's concerns reflect the sentiments of many: we know that if another Duterte comes to power, the same policies of killings will persist. This apprehension points to a more fundamental issue than the verdict of a single case: can a society change its deeply ingrained culture of violent law enforcement and reliance on strongman politics through external judicial intervention? The International Criminal Court's ruling may legally define the nature of Duterte's actions, but the internal divisions within Philippine society and the consensus on the rule of law still require Manila, not The Hague, to ultimately bridge and build.