The Duterte Legacy: Populism, Violence, and Philippine Politics

In 2016, a 71-year-old mayor from the southern Philippines won the presidency with a campaign promise that sounded more like a threat. Rodrigo Duterte told voters he would kill drug dealers, crush crime, and upend the country's political establishment. Critics dismissed him as a provincial loudmouth. Polls underestimated him. By the time the votes were counted, he had captured nearly 40 percent of the vote in a crowded field and redrawn the boundaries of acceptable political speech in the Philippines.
What followed was six years of governance that defied easy categories. Duterte was not the first populist to win high office, nor the first Philippine leader to use violence as a political tool. But he combined the two with a bluntness that made his presidency impossible to ignore.
Before Manila, Duterte had spent more than two decades as mayor of Davao City, where he cultivated an image as a crime-fighter willing to do what national politicians would not. Supporters credited him with making Davao safer. Human rights groups linked his tenure to extrajudicial killings and vigilante violence. That record became the template for his national project.
The centerpiece of his presidency was the war on drugs. Police conducted nighttime raids in poor neighborhoods. Thousands of suspects died in operations that officials described as shootouts. Human rights organizations put the death toll in the tens of thousands. Families searched morgues for sons and fathers. Funeral homes in Manila ran out of space. International bodies condemned the campaign. Through it all, Duterte remained defiant, at times naming and shaming public officials he accused of involvement in the drug trade without judicial process.
The policy was popular for much of his term. Many Filipinos were exhausted by crime and felt previous administrations had failed them. Duterte spoke to that frustration in plain language, often laced with profanity, and promised action over process. But popularity came at a cost. The International Criminal Court later opened an investigation into whether the campaign constituted crimes against humanity. Duterte withdrew the Philippines from the court's founding treaty, a move that did not stop the inquiry but signaled his willingness to reject international pressure.
His political style was as much a part of his presidency as any policy. Duterte mocked journalists, insulted foreign leaders, and joked about sensitive subjects that would have ended other careers. He attacked the Catholic Church, the press, and political opponents with equal relish. Traditional politicians who expected him to moderate were wrong. He governed as he campaigned: impulsive, profane, and deeply personal.
Foreign policy shifted under his watch. Duterte moved the Philippines closer to China, despite a long-standing territorial dispute in the South China Sea. He accepted Chinese investment, downplayed the arbitration victory that had favored Manila's maritime claims, and threatened to end military agreements with the United States before ultimately keeping most of them in place. The balancing act confused allies and satisfied few, but it reflected his instinct to break from the pro-American posture of previous administrations.
Economically, his record was more conventional than his rhetoric suggested. Infrastructure spending increased. Tax reform passed. Growth continued, though it slowed and was later devastated by the pandemic. His supporters point to these achievements as proof that he was more than a provocateur. His critics argue that the damage to institutions, the judiciary, and the press will outlast any single infrastructure project.
The contradictions of Duterte's presidency are hard to resolve. He presented himself as a defender of the poor while presiding over a drug war that killed mostly poor Filipinos. He promised clean government while surrounding himself with loyalists and attacking accountability mechanisms. He spoke of national renewal while deepening divisions.
When his term ended in 2022, he left office with high approval ratings and a political dynasty intact. His daughter, Sara Duterte, was elected vice president. His allies controlled much of Congress. The man who had once seemed like an outsider had become the establishment he once railed against.
Today, the Philippines is still absorbing the Duterte years. His presidency proved that a leader could disregard traditional norms, face international condemnation, and remain electorally strong. It showed how quickly democratic institutions could be bent to the will of a popular executive. And it left thousands of families waiting for accountability.
What remains most striking about Duterte is not any single policy but the political climate he created. He demonstrated that in a society tired of elites and hungry for order, a leader could speak the unspeakable and pay little electoral price. That lesson will outlast him. Future Philippine leaders, whether they admire or reject him, will have to contend with the electorate he shaped and the standards he lowered.
The war on drugs, the insults, the pivot toward China, the attacks on critics, all of it formed a single political experiment. Whether it was a success depends entirely on what one believes government is for. For Duterte, it was simple: protect the people, punish the guilty, and ignore the rules that got in the way. The Philippines is still living with the consequences of that conviction.