Duterte’s transfer to The Hague for his International Criminal Court (ICC) trial marks a historic first. Once at the apogee of his powers, he was seemingly nigh impregnable. The tripartite bodies of government were at his whimsical disposition, and he had the entire nation at his back, enabling his every move. Now that he has descended back to earth—through the end of his tenure as president—his deep entrenchment in political circles once made it seem that calls for accountability would go unanswered. That was, however, only until international law and order finally stepped in.
Reactions to this global political event underscored the pronounced polarization of our country. This divide runs deep—not only in political leanings but also permeates socio-cultural thought—one that is among the foundations of political morality. However, beyond condemning the tempestuous nature of the nation’s volatile political psyche, this piece seeks to examine the collective psychology of the “Die-hard Duterte Supporters (DDS)”. The question remains: Why do millions of people never see “the man” for who he truly is?
Understanding this unwavering allegiance requires a closer look at the very foundation of Duterte’s lasting grip on his supporters.
One overlooked dynamic in Duterte’s iron dome of defense from legal scrutiny is the unwavering support of the DDS faction. This segment of the Philippine populace has remained loyal defenders despite the controversies and legal precedents surrounding Duterte’s grave abuses of power. Contrary to that, a long-standing narrative portrays Duterte as a martyr and as a populist strongman who, despite political ploys, has remained resolute in being an unflinching fighter for vigilante justice.
No matter how much evidence is thrown against him, the public narrative always seems to contort and gravitate to Duterte’s machinations. The underlying question now is why—what makes someone of his character so appealing? Instead of defaulting to the usual allegation of fake news, we must look inward to the collective psychology of the Filipino masses to understand the adulation of this man and other dictators of his kind.
One notable thing about Duterte is his projection of a strong and underdog personality. He exudes male bravado in contrast to his actual deficiency—his already weak constitution and his waning foothold on power, as evidenced by public defiance from his erstwhile colleagues. This was made clear by the discretionary executive action to willingly transfer Duterte to The Hague for prosecution. Aside from the appalling masochism reinforced through his remarks, he is a misogynist through and through in the way he objectifies and vilifies women. The one aberration that seemingly deviates from cultural popularity is his mockery of God, which his base of supporters surprisingly finds acceptable.
Underneath all those remarks and abhorrent actions lies an obscured vulnerability, which is the antithesis of his persona. This inconsistency—a duality between his strongman image and his underlying vulnerability—likely stems from his personal insecurities, which he masks through hard political power as a means of self-preservation. This hypocritical and contradictory persona subconsciously reverberates across his supporters, as it mirrors their own compensation for insecurities through vulgar demeanor.
“Insecurity” is a big word, but it is reflected in a Filipino’s everyday life, directly interwoven into our cultural roots, societal expectations, and economic realities. The normal “Juan” is encumbered with finding his place in society amidst his experience of abject poverty and his stereotyped role as a breadwinner to the family. This constant struggle creates feelings of powerlessness and frustration, driving some to destructive behaviors or frenzied outbursts as a way to reclaim a sense of control over their constrained lives.
Now, how does this connect to Duterte—whose overarching political power and wealth render him detached from the common plight of man? Despite their contrasting circumstances, the common denominator between them is a shared sense of insecurity—the fear of losing the illusory grip on permanent power, and the desire to reclaim it in an empathic way. For Duterte, this insecurity stems from the creeping reality that his authority is temporary, and he may one day face accountability for his actions—which has now clearly turned into reality. His response to this vulnerability is to brutally hijack democracy through the consolidation of power by surreptitious means.
At first glance, the struggles of the ordinary Filipino and the political puppeteering of Duterte appear worlds apart. However, both are rooted in similar means to compensate for their perceived inadequacies. For an ordinary Juan, Duterte’s strongman persona projects the kind of control they wish to exert over their lives—a guns-blazing approach to mask the actual root causes of their insecurity. This shared psychological drive becomes evident in both societal behavior and state policy. The disgruntled DDS and Duterte alike yearn for a simple, end-all direct approach, which attempts to deviate from pragmatism—where barbarism is devised to mask their insecurities and the root causes of it. For ordinary citizens, this could be in the form of mere physical outbursts or vulgar rhetoric. But for Duterte, at the apogee of his powers, his means to an end was authoritarian rule, where consolidation of power came at the expense of carnage and democratic overhaul.
In this light, Duterte becomes a powerful symbol—the embodiment of disgruntled machismo, where tempestuous nature overrides reason and rationality. This very persona resonates with the DDS, as seen in their vulgar online remarks like “patayin sila,” revealing a mindset rooted in brute-force solutions. Duterte‘s “Oplan Tokhang” mirrors this inclination toward violent retribution by providing institutional cover for extrajudicial killings. While supporters see this as a “shotgun” approach against underground crime, it overlooks the systemic failures and collateral damage that greatly diminish its perceived effectiveness. Hence, the administration’s barbarism is devoid of reason, in line with the yearnings of the DDS.
To reiterate, the scale and intent of Duterte’s state actions fundamentally differ from those of the common populace. But the psychological motive of their actions intersects—both resort to brutish self-preserving actions that disregard rational approaches to their actual underlying insecurities and respective causes. For Duterte, this means weaponizing the state to enforce control; for his supporters, it translates to endorsing violence as a means of reclaiming agency over their perceived powerless existence.
The only subtle yet conspicuous difference between the common people and Duterte is that only the latter has the hard political power to act on his whims. This is coupled with his apparent detachment from legal accountability—at least prior to the intervention of the ICC. In essence, Duterte is the physical manifestation of the DDS’ desire for absolute control over their lives, as if handing them each a “Death Note” notebook. Hence, Duterte serves as an echo chamber that emboldens his supporters to act out their carnal desires for violence and push for a vigilante justice system rooted in the principle of “might makes right.” The desensitization to violence reinforces this current populist rhetoric and consequently ensconced Duterte’s hold on power. This cultural perpetuation of violence not only invigorated Duterte’s appeal but also eroded moral and democratic safeguards. This intersection of the masses’ will and the ulterior motives of this dynasty established a powerful democratic arsenal in the form of people’s support.
Duterte’s popularity, in turn, was a strong precedent for sidestepping formal legal mechanisms to hold him accountable to the public—at least before the executive’s compliance in turning him over to The Hague.
Now, at this exact moment of writing, our country’s political psyche and international justice are at a crossroads. Will the ICC’s judgment dismantle Duterte’s constructed persona, or will his supporters continue to hold on to the fallacy of his “martyrdom”? Can the hard cold truth ever unseat cemented cultural, primal, and psychological allegiances? Or has Duterte’s narrative already interwoven itself into the national consciousness—untouchable, immovable, and immune to the truth?
Jan Rand R. Jandusay is a fourth-year political science student at Divine Word College of Calapan. He previously served as the 2023–2024 President of the Oriental Mindoro Parliament of Youth Leaders and was a member of the Provincial Youth Development Council of Oriental Mindoro. A consistent Dean’s Lister during his second year, he has demonstrated a strong academic foundation alongside his leadership roles. While not deeply involved in church activities, his education at a Catholic institution has shaped his understanding of governance, ethics, and moral responsibility—values that align with his advocacy for accountability and justice.
