I saw on Facebook a news report on Elizabeth Zimmerman, former President Rodrigo Duterte’s estranged wife, who is now in The Hague watching over him. After more than 100 days in detention by the International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague, she said he was “so thin, skin and bones; no longer taking any medications; healthy but walks slowly; spends much of his time watching TV and sleeping.”
As I read that news report, memories of “Rody” flashed by when he was Davao City Mayor while I was the Secretary of Interior and Local Government; and, concurrently, as Regional Peace and Order Council chair for Region 11 while I chaired the National Peace and Order Council. Our boss was Pres. Fidel V. Ramos.
I remember him for diligently pursuing Oplan Paglalansag – the breakup of private armies and recovery of loose firearms – and Oplan Pagbabago – that aimed at reforming the Philippine National Police. He was decisive and effective. Much later, when he was President, he would refer to it as the "Alunan Doctrine."
In an official trip to the USA as SILG in the mid-'90's, I met with the head of the DEA who informed me that they detected the creeping influx of narcopolitics, and if we did nothing, we could become a narcostate. A Peace and Order Council summit was held just for that purpose to mobilize our LGU’s help combat the proliferation of illegal drugs, which he never forgot.
When he ran for President in 2016, I witnessed how people in our rallies, motorcades, and neighborhood meetings, in Metro Manila and key cities, begged to be liberated from muggings, robberies, rapes, and murders committed by drug pushers and users.
The rest is history. He became President. A brutal drug war was launched. Thousands died. He was accused of mass murder. But many communities were liberated as promised, generating profuse gratitude from the people. Earlier this year, he was remanded to the ICC where he will be prosecuted and tried in a couple of months.
So now, the essential question arose as I reflected on the times we had with “Rody” or “Digong”, as others would refer to him: can one be compassionate toward him who transformed Davao City into a peaceful and progressive urban center in Mindanao, winning the affection of his constituents, while extrajudicial killings were taking place to liberate terrified communities?
After much thought, I reached the conclusion that, yes, we must be compassionate toward Rody Duterte, not as a way to excuse or whitewash his alleged human rights violations, but to acknowledge the complexity of human motivation and leadership in a deeply flawed system. It’s the Christian thing to do.
Let me try to explain.
In my mind, showing compassion doesn’t mean condoning murder. I am recognizing that however defective the drug war was executed (no pun intended), I'd like to think that he acted out of a belief that he was serving the greater good.
His war on drugs was rooted in his conviction that drastic action was necessary to reclaim communities from the grip of addiction and crime. Many ordinary Filipinos supported him because they saw quick results where state institutions had long failed.
I don’t have blind compassion. I allow for accountability and justice while acknowledging that he may have acted out of sincere concern for society driven by extraordinary circumstances – runaway drug problem, soft society, weak institutions, endemic corruption, and slow or elusive justice.
In Duterte’s case, compassion could mean understanding the desperation that led him to embrace violent shortcuts in the face of narcopolitics and systemic dysfunction. It means recognizing his efforts at infrastructure reform, local empowerment, and foreign policy recalibration, and demanding justice for drug victims. It means seeing him as a product and reflection of a broken system, not just as its architect.
Let me be clear. Ultimately, compassion and justice must go together. One without the other leads either to moral blindness or dehumanization.
I believe that Du30 must take command responsibility for the results of the drug war and should be held to account for his explicitly unabashed orders to kill in order to protect. His governance was flawed, allowing the application of controversial methods that ultimately he has to answer for. That matter should be confronted firmly and humanely.
His enigma lies in his paradoxical persona: a populist leader who inspired both fear and fervent loyalty. He presented himself as a tough-talking, anti-establishment champion of the masses, yet governed with iron-fisted policies that defied democratic norms.
He was revered by many for his war on drugs, which they saw as restoring order, but was condemned globally for the extrajudicial killings of even innocent people. He positioned himself as anti-elite, yet aligned with powerful political clans.
Duterte's enigma is the tension between his crude, brutal methods and his sincere appeal to protect ordinary Filipinos—making him both a savior and a tyrant in the eyes of the nation.
That brought me to think how Jesus Christ would show compassion for Rody Duterte. Based on my appreciation of His holy essence, Jesus would see him not just as a political figure, but as a human soul in need of truth, healing, and redemption, regardless of his sins or good deeds. That goes for all of us.
Christ’s compassion wasn’t passive nor permissive. It was radical, confronting sin while offering mercy. Here's how that might have looked in Duterte's case.
He would have looked beyond public labels. Jesus consistently reached out to those branded as sinners—tax collectors, adulterers, thieves, zealots. He saw their inner wounds and deeper hunger. He would have seen Duterte as a man shaped by fear, anger, duty, trauma, with a sincere desire to protect.
Jesus would have spoken Truth to him, not to condemn but to enlighten. While no sin is too great for God's mercy, Jesus always required a change of heart. He would have forgiven if asked with sincere repentance.
Otherwise, Jesus would still mourn for him, as He mourned over Jerusalem’s destruction. More importantly, He would challenge all of us, as we watch on the sidelines, to reflect on why we cheer violence, yet, cry for justice. Our leaders reflect our hearts and minds. Change must begin with us.
That, I conclude, is the essence of divine compassion: truth in love, mercy without denial, and the hope of redemption for all sinners. That’s how I see it.
I don’t know if Rody will ever get to read this commentary on him, but I do so with fond memories of our good times together in the name of local governance, peace and order, and love for the Filipino people.
I wish upon him spiritual liberation, the redemptive power of humble repentance, and the blessings of our Lord Almighty.
