On February 23, 2026, the opening day of the confirmation of charges hearing against former Philippine president Rodrigo Duterte at the International Criminal Court marked more than the beginning of a legal proceeding. Held in The Hague, the session became a global stage where competing narratives about justice, sovereignty, security, and political legacy collided—reflecting deep divisions within Philippine society itself.
For many observers, the day carried historical weight. It is rare for a former leader of a country like the Philippines to face accusations tied to crimes against humanity before an international tribunal. Yet the courtroom discussions quickly revealed that the legal questions before the court extend far beyond a single individual. They cut into unresolved national debates about the controversial anti-drug campaign that defined Duterte’s presidency.
The Prosecution’s Framing of Accountability
In his opening presentation, ICC Deputy Prosecutor Mame Mandiaye Niang outlined the prosecution’s case, describing a pattern of killings that prosecutors argue formed part of a widespread and systematic attack against civilians during the so-called “war on drugs.” According to the charges read before the Pre-Trial Chamber, the case includes dozens of killings and attempted killings tied to operations ranging from alleged activities of the Davao Death Squad during Duterte’s time as mayor to police operations carried out nationwide during his presidency.
Niang framed the proceedings as a reminder of a fundamental principle in international law: that those in positions of power can be held accountable for alleged mass crimes. In his remarks, he stressed that the incidents presented in court represent only a portion of what investigators believe was a broader pattern that resulted in thousands of deaths across the Philippines.
The message was clear: the prosecution seeks to establish that the violence linked to anti-drug operations was not merely a series of isolated incidents but part of a policy environment that allowed or encouraged lethal force against suspected offenders. If the judges confirm the charges, the case will move to a full trial where that claim must be proven in detail.
Victims’ Voices and Expectations
For families of victims, the hearing carried emotional significance. Some relatives traveled to the Netherlands at their own expense, hoping to witness what they consider a long-awaited opportunity for justice. Filipino lawyer Joel Butuyan, representing victims before the ICC, expressed disappointment that Duterte was allowed to be absent during the proceedings. According to him, the presence of the former president could have symbolized accountability for families who have waited years for answers.
Butuyan’s remarks underscored how the case has become, for some victims, the “last boat” toward justice. In their view, domestic institutions had either failed to provide accountability or moved too slowly to address the scale of the alleged abuses. The ICC process, therefore, carries symbolic weight that goes beyond the technical legal standards of international criminal law.
Yet even within these narratives, public debate continues about the portrayal of victims and the resources behind their participation. Critics have questioned funding, motivations, and representation—illustrating how deeply politicized the discourse surrounding the case has become.
The Defense Pushes Back
On the other side, Duterte’s legal team mounted a strong rebuttal. Lead defense counsel Nicholas Kaufman argued that the charges are politically motivated and based on selective interpretations of Duterte’s public statements. According to the defense, prosecutors allegedly “cherry-picked” rhetoric that was meant to intimidate criminals rather than serve as instructions for unlawful violence.
Kaufman maintained that Duterte remains absolutely innocent and characterized him as a leader whose language was often hyperbolic but rooted in a desire to protect the public from crime. The defense also attempted to shift the discussion toward the context in which the anti-drug campaign unfolded—an environment marked by public anxiety over narcotics, violence, and social disorder.
Perhaps more striking was the defense’s criticism of the current Philippine administration under Ferdinand Marcos Jr.. Kaufman accused the government of reversing earlier statements about non-cooperation with the ICC, suggesting that political considerations may have influenced the current posture of the state toward the proceedings. This line of argument highlights another layer of the case: it is not only about past actions but also about present political dynamics.
Sovereignty, Politics, and Public Opinion
Back in the Philippines, reactions have been deeply polarized. Supporters of Duterte continue to argue that the ICC lacks jurisdiction, pointing out that the Philippines withdrew from the Rome Statute during his presidency. Critics counter that alleged crimes committed while the country was still a member remain within the court’s authority.
Statements from political figures reinforce these divisions. Among the most vocal responses came from Paolo Duterte, who dismissed the proceedings as politically driven and questioned the legitimacy of the court’s involvement in Philippine affairs. Such statements reflect a broader narrative among Duterte allies that the case represents foreign interference or selective prosecution.
At the same time, gatherings of supporters outside the ICC building in The Hague demonstrated that Duterte’s political influence remains significant even after leaving office. For many Filipinos, the former president symbolizes a hardline approach to crime that they believe restored a sense of order and safety. For others, his presidency represents a period marked by fear, human rights concerns, and unresolved questions about accountability.
These conflicting perceptions illustrate why the ICC case has become not only a legal process but also a referendum of sorts on the Duterte era.
A Courtroom and a Mirror
The opening session itself followed the formal procedures typical of international criminal trials. Presiding judge Iulia Antonella Motoc oversaw the proceedings as court officers read out the charges and clarified the structure of the hearing. In legal terms, the confirmation of charges stage is not yet a determination of guilt. Instead, judges will decide whether the prosecution’s evidence is sufficient to proceed to a full trial.
But outside the legal framework, the day functioned as a mirror reflecting the Philippines’ unresolved struggle over how to interpret its recent past. For many, Duterte’s war on drugs remains a story of communities terrorized by criminal networks and a government that promised decisive action. For others, it is a chapter marked by extrajudicial killings and weakened rule of law.
Both perspectives carry emotional and political weight, and both were visible in the rhetoric surrounding the first day of the hearing.
What Lies Ahead
The confirmation of charges hearing, scheduled to run several days, will determine whether the case advances to trial. If the judges decide that the evidence meets the threshold required by the ICC, the legal battle could continue for years. If not, the proceedings may end without a full trial, leaving many questions unresolved.
Regardless of the outcome, the first day has already revealed something significant: the ICC case against Duterte is not simply about legal definitions of murder, command responsibility, or crimes against humanity. It is about the enduring tension between security and human rights, between national sovereignty and international accountability, and between memory and justice.
For the Philippines, the process unfolding in The Hague is as much about national reflection as it is about international law. The courtroom thousands of kilometers away has become a venue where the country’s political history, public fears, and hopes for justice are being debated before the world. And as the hearings continue, one thing is certain—the final judgment, whether legal or historical, will shape how future generations understand one of the most contentious chapters in modern Philippine governance.