Some People Need Killing

1. Cycles of Power and the Myth of Edsa

Once upon a time, we were heroes.

A history of conquest. The Philippines has a long history of foreign domination, from Spanish colonization beginning in 1521 to American rule after 1898. This colonial past shaped the nation's identity, language, and political structures, leaving a legacy of power dynamics and inequality.

The Marcos dictatorship. Ferdinand Marcos's declaration of martial law in 1972 ushered in a period of authoritarian rule marked by widespread corruption, human rights abuses, and political repression. This era instilled deep-seated fear and distrust in the government among many Filipinos.

The Edsa Revolution. The 1986 People Power Revolution, a largely non-violent uprising, overthrew Marcos and restored democracy, becoming a powerful national myth of unity and courage against tyranny. This event, particularly the image of civilians facing down tanks, became a symbol of Filipino heroism and the potential for collective action, shaping the author's early understanding of her country.

2. The Rise of the Punisher Persona

“I am a child of destiny,” he would later say.

From mayor to president. Rodrigo Duterte cultivated an image as an outsider from Davao City, a "small-town boy" who spoke the language of the streets, contrasting himself with the perceived elitism of Manila politicians. His persona was built on being tough, fearless, and willing to use violence to achieve order.

The "Punisher" image. Duterte openly embraced the moniker "Punisher," boasting about killing criminals and promising a bloody war on drugs during his campaign. This rhetoric, often laced with vulgarity and dark humor, resonated with a public frustrated by perceived government incompetence and rising crime rates.

Contradictions and performance. Despite presenting himself as an ordinary man from a poor background, Duterte came from a politically connected family. His public persona was a carefully crafted performance, often contradictory, designed to appeal to different segments of the population while normalizing violent language and extrajudicial methods.

3. Davao as a Blueprint for Brutality

“If you are doing an illegal activity in my city… you are a legitimate target of assassination.”

"Murder City". Davao City under Duterte's long tenure as mayor gained notoriety for vigilante-style killings attributed to the "Davao Death Squad" (DDS). These killings targeted alleged criminals, drug users, and street children, contributing to Duterte's image as a strongman who brought order through lethal force.

Origins of the DDS. Accounts suggest the DDS evolved from anti-communist vigilante groups like Alsa Masa, which operated with military backing in the late 1980s. Witnesses, including alleged former DDS members, claimed the group received orders and payments from police officials and, at times, directly from Mayor Duterte.

Impunity in Davao. Despite investigations by human rights groups and the Commission on Human Rights (CHR), accountability for the Davao killings remained elusive. Official probes often stalled or were dismissed, reinforcing a climate of impunity that allowed the killings to continue and set a dangerous precedent for Duterte's national campaign.

4. The Campaign of Fear and Belonging

“We are Duterte,” said the gunman in the mask.

A movement of loyalty. Duterte's presidential campaign tapped into deep-seated public anger and a desire for radical change. His supporters, many of whom felt ignored by the political establishment, saw him as a savior who would protect them from criminals and corruption.

The DDS identity. The term "DDS," initially associated with the Davao Death Squad, was reappropriated by supporters to mean "Diehard Duterte Supporter." This transformation turned a symbol of extrajudicial killing into an identity of fierce loyalty and belonging, particularly online.

Motivations for support. Support for Duterte was complex, driven by various factors including:

• Frustration with traditional politicians
• Belief in his strongman image and promises of order
• Class resentment against the perceived elite
• Fear of crime and drugs
• A desire for a leader who spoke plainly, even crudely

This widespread support, fueled by social media and a powerful narrative of "us vs. them," propelled Duterte to the presidency despite warnings about his human rights record.

5. War Declared: The Language of Killing

“I will kill people for my country.”

Operation Double Barrel. Upon taking office, Duterte launched his nationwide war on drugs, codenamed "Project Double Barrel." This operation targeted both high-value drug lords and street-level users and dealers through simultaneous police actions.

Tokhang and its consequences. The street-level component, "Oplan Tokhang" (knock and plead), involved police visiting homes to encourage surrender. While presented as a voluntary process, it often resulted in killings, justified by police claims that suspects "fought back."

New terms for death. The drug war introduced or repurposed specific terms to describe the killings:

• Salvage: An anglicized Filipino term meaning extrajudicial execution by state agents.
• Nanlaban: A Filipino term meaning "fought back," used by police to justify fatal shootings.
• Deaths Under Investigation (DUI): A police term for killings not officially attributed to police operations, often linked to vigilantes.

This language served to normalize the violence and obscure accountability, reducing killings to statistics or justified actions rather than murders.

6. The Mechanics of State-Sanctioned Death

“As long as it is in the performance of duty,” said the president, “if you squeeze [the trigger of your] M-16, and you hit a criminal, you hit the whole world, that’s okay.”

Buy-bust operations. Police reports frequently cited "buy-bust operations" as the context for fatal encounters. These involved undercover officers attempting to purchase drugs, leading to alleged shootouts when suspects "sensed" the police presence and resisted arrest.

Presumption of regularity. Philippine law includes a "presumption of regularity" for police actions, assuming officers perform their duties lawfully unless proven otherwise. Under Duterte, this presumption became a shield, making it difficult to prosecute police involved in killings, as their claims of self-defense were often accepted without rigorous investigation.

Orders from above. Duterte repeatedly assured police they would be protected from prosecution if they killed drug suspects in the line of duty. He encouraged them to shoot to kill if they felt threatened, effectively granting them impunity and contributing to the high death toll in police operations.

7. Vigilantes and the Outsourcing of Murder

“Some people need killing.”

The rise of vigilante groups. Alongside official police operations, civilian vigilante groups were implicated in thousands of drug-related killings. These groups, sometimes linked to local police or officials, carried out targeted assassinations, often leaving behind cardboard signs labeling victims as criminals.

CSG in Tondo. The Confederate Sentinels Group (CSG) in Tondo, Manila, was one such group. Members, often ordinary citizens like scavengers or drivers, claimed they were recruited and given orders by police commanders to "clean out" criminals and drug dealers, sometimes for payment.

Police collusion. Accounts from vigilantes and witnesses suggest a pattern of police collusion, where law enforcement provided target lists, gave the "all-clear" for killings, and arrived at crime scenes after the fact to process bodies and plant evidence, blurring the lines between state and non-state actors in the killings.

8. The Human Cost: Stories of Loss and Survival

“Isn’t it strange,” Simon asked me, “that it’s the families of the dead who have to run?”

Grief and fear. The drug war left behind thousands of grieving families, often poor and marginalized, who faced not only the loss of loved ones but also the stigma of their alleged drug involvement. Many lived in constant fear of retaliation from police or vigilantes if they sought justice or spoke out.

Victims' narratives. The stories of victims and their families reveal the brutal reality behind the statistics:

• Love-Love, an eleven-year-old, witnessed the masked gunmen kill her parents, who had surrendered to authorities.
• Christine, fourteen, saw police shoot her father after he pleaded to be arrested instead.
• Normy Lopez's son, Djastin, an epileptic, was shot multiple times by police despite allegedly having his hands up.
• The Gregorio family's private tragedy, captured on video, exposed the casual brutality of an off-duty cop.

Struggle for justice. Families often faced immense obstacles in seeking accountability, including intimidation, lack of resources, and a justice system reluctant to prosecute police or their alleged collaborators. Many were forced into hiding or pressured into accepting settlements.

9. Numbers, Lies, and the Dehumanization of Victims

“Our only appeal [to the media] is to be fair,” PNP Chief dela Rosa said. “Just don’t bloat the data too much. Don’t paint our drug war as truly evil.”

Inflated statistics. The government, led by Duterte, used vastly inflated and unsubstantiated numbers of drug users and drug-related crimes to justify the severity of the crackdown. These figures, often contradicting official surveys, created a narrative of a national emergency requiring extreme measures.

Conflicting death tolls. Official government figures for drug-related deaths varied significantly and were widely disputed by human rights groups and independent investigators, who estimated the true toll to be much higher, potentially exceeding 30,000. This discrepancy fueled confusion and debate over the scale of the violence.

Dehumanizing language. Duterte and his allies consistently used dehumanizing language to describe drug suspects, labeling them as "animals," "zombies," or "worthless." This rhetoric stripped victims of their humanity, making their deaths seem acceptable or even desirable to a segment of the population.

10. Acts of Contrition and the Search for Accountability

To be contrite, from the Latin contrītus—“bruised, crushed; worn or broken by rubbing”—means, in its modern and figurative sense, according to the OED, to be “crushed or broken in spirit by a sense of sin, and so brought to complete penitence.”

Regret among supporters. As the drug war unfolded and its human cost became undeniable, some former Duterte supporters experienced regret and a sense of complicity. Their reasons varied, from disillusionment with the government's handling of other issues to a growing realization that the violence was indiscriminate and unjust.

Seeking penance. For some, this regret led to acts of contrition, such as:

• Creating online spaces for former supporters to share their stories of disillusionment.
• Publicly denouncing Duterte and facing backlash from former allies.
• Volunteering to help victims' families and advocate for human rights.
• Accepting personal responsibility for enabling the violence through their vote.

Struggle for justice continues. Despite the challenges, some families and human rights advocates continued to pursue legal cases against police officers involved in killings. While convictions were rare, these efforts represented a persistent fight for accountability in a system often stacked against the victims.

11. The Enduring Legacy and the Question of Worth

“I have carefully weighed the virtues and the faults of the Filipino, and I have come to the conclusion that he is worth dying for,” Ninoy Aquino said in a speech delivered in 1980.

A cycle of history. The election of Ferdinand Marcos Jr., son of the former dictator, alongside Duterte's daughter as Vice President, highlighted the cyclical nature of Philippine politics and the enduring influence of powerful families. This return to power for the Marcos name raised questions about the legacy of the Edsa Revolution and the nation's commitment to democracy and human rights.

The question of worth. The book grapples with the question of whether the Filipino people, who applauded a leader who promised death and elected the son of a dictator, are "worth dying for," as Ninoy Aquino believed. It contrasts Aquino's vision of a brave, dignified people with the reality of a society that seemed to accept or even celebrate brutality.

Remembering the dead. Despite the official lies, conflicting numbers, and the passage of time, the stories of the victims and their families remain. The book serves as a testament to their lives and deaths, insisting that they be remembered and that the truth of how they died not be lost to history or political convenience.

Last updated: May 10, 2025