The Staggering Hypocrisy of “Due Process”
The rumor of an International Criminal Court (ICC) arrest warrant for Senator Ronald “Bato” Dela Rosa has ripped through the Philippine political landscape, immediately exposing a fault line of staggering double standards and political cynicism. At the center of the firestorm is Senator Alan Peter Cayetano, a key ally of the previous administration, whose sudden, passionate advocacy for “due process” is now being decried as the ultimate act of hypocrisy by critics and victims’ advocates alike.

Following reports—initiated by Ombudsman Jesus Crispin “Boying” Remulla—that an ICC warrant against Dela Rosa, the former Philippine National Police (PNP) Chief, has been issued, Cayetano quickly issued a lengthy statement. His core message, plastered across headlines, was that “All Filipinos deserve due process,” and that the Senate must uphold “justice without bias, and equality before the law” for one of its own.

On the surface, his words might ring true. In a functional democracy, due process is non-negotiable. But for many, including those who lost loved ones in the government’s brutal “War on Drugs”—a campaign Cayetano vehemently defended as former Foreign Affairs Secretary—his words are a grotesque betrayal of memory and justice.

The dissonance is jarring: during the darkest years of the drug war, due process was systematically denied to thousands of victims. Suspects were often placed on ‘target lists’ with no recourse, no explanation, and no chance to defend themselves before police-operated ‘Tokhang’ operations or vigilante-style killings claimed their lives. The killings were labeled “extrajudicial,” a term that literally means outside of the judicial process.

Cayetano, when questioned by an Al Jazeera journalist during his time as Foreign Affairs Secretary, infamously asserted that all 6,000 deaths reported by police in their ‘legitimate’ drug operations were, in fact, cases where the suspects “fought back.” He defended a state-sponsored campaign that circumvented the most basic tenets of law. Yet now, when one of the campaign’s chief implementors, Senator Dela Rosa, faces international accountability, Cayetano is quoting the Constitution and invoking religious verses to demand the very rule of law he once helped dismantle.

Former Senator and prominent Duterte critic, Leila De Lima, who herself was imprisoned under the previous administration, was quick to condemn Cayetano’s move as sheer “hypocrisy.” She went a step further, issuing an explosive statement demanding that Cayetano should also be arrested by the ICC for his role in protecting the Duterte regime and its bloody human rights record.

This high-stakes, public battle over the meaning of justice has turned the spotlight squarely onto the moral and legal obligations of the current administration.

👻 Bato’s Absenteeism: The Start of a Great Escape?
Adding a layer of unprecedented political drama to the unfolding crisis is the mysterious, and highly unusual, absence of Senator Dela Rosa from the resumption of the Senate session.

The Senate’s return to plenary session after a long break is typically a highly visible event. Yet, with the swirling, unconfirmed but widely reported news of an ICC arrest warrant, the former top cop was a conspicuous no-show.

The silence is deafening. Dela Rosa, known for his outspoken, often boisterous, public commentary on all issues, has offered no statement on the rumored warrant. This is a man who, in the past, claimed he was ready to face the ICC, even lightheartedly suggesting he would “join the old man [Duterte]” in the detention facility at The Hague. His sudden, absolute retreat from the public eye—neither speaking out nor attending his official duties—suggests a palpable shift from bravado to panic.

For observers, his actions carry an ominous echo of the events surrounding the arrest of former President Rodrigo Duterte, who was swiftly detained and flown to The Hague earlier this year. Reports indicate that Duterte’s team was caught off-guard, underestimating the speed and secrecy with which the ICC could act. Dela Rosa’s sudden withdrawal from public view, even without official confirmation of the warrant, signals a clear lesson learned: he appears unwilling to take the risk his former boss did.

Senate President Pro Tempore Ping Lacson has weighed in on the issue, confirming that while the Senate, for the sake of its institutional dignity, would not allow an arrest to be served within its premises, this protection would be “limited.” In short, the Senate cannot be a long-term sanctuary for a fugitive. If Dela Rosa is indeed refusing to appear, it strongly suggests that he is not preparing a legal defense but rather contemplating a more desperate course of action to avoid arrest and extradition.

⚠️ The Rule of Law Versus Political Will
The current situation is forcing the Marcos administration to confront a pivotal moment concerning the Philippines’ international obligations and its domestic political realities. Ombudsman Remulla, despite admitting the copy he possesses is “not official,” has insisted the warrant exists, forcing the Department of Justice (DOJ) to publicly acknowledge they are working to verify the information.

Should the warrant be officially transmitted and validated, the Philippine government, under the principle of reciprocity, will be obligated to comply with the ICC’s arrest order. This places President Marcos Jr. in a difficult political bind: enforcing the arrest of a sitting Senator, a key figure from the Duterte faction, risks fracturing the political alliances that helped bring him to power. Failing to comply, however, would severely damage the country’s standing in the international community and its commitment to international justice.

For the families of the “War on Drugs” victims—a toll estimated by human rights watchdogs to be anywhere between 12,000 and 30,000—this ICC action represents the last, best hope for justice. They argue that the domestic legal system has failed them, and only an international body can hold the architects and implementors of the deadly campaign accountable.

Alan Peter Cayetano’s fervent call for “due process” is therefore not merely a philosophical argument; it is a political maneuver aimed at delaying, perhaps even preventing, the inevitable reckoning. It is a desperate attempt to weaponize legal technicalities—like the Supreme Court’s Rules on Extradition—to shield an ally from the consequences of a campaign that, for years, made a mockery of due process.

The political theater unfolding in the country is a stark reminder that the fight for justice in the Philippines is far from over. As Senator Dela Rosa remains incommunicado and out of sight, and as his allies preach piety, the nation—and the world—awaits the next, definitive step from The Hague. The answer will determine whether justice is a right afforded to all, or merely a privilege reserved for the powerful.