A government is meant to be the backbone of a nation. It is the institution people lean on in times of injustice. It exists not merely to rule, but to serve and embody the very justice it promises to deliver. A country survives because its people trust that those in power are capable of carrying the weight of an entire nation.

But looking at what is happening in the Philippines today, is this what they call justice?

For years, during the height of the war on drugs, thousands were denied the very principle our justice system claims to protect—due process. People were killed before they were ever given the chance to defend themselves in court. Suspicion became enough to justify death.

Yet now that former officials tied to these actions are facing investigations, the same people who once disregarded due process are suddenly demanding it. Now that the same machinery of accountability is beginning to turn toward the people who once defended these actions, the conversation has suddenly changed.

Figures like Senator Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa, once known for aggressively defending the bloody anti-drug campaign, now invoke constitutional rights and legal protections as shields against accountability. The language of justice they once ignored has suddenly become their strongest defense. Even institutions that once operated at the center of that campaign are now careful to emphasize legality when the tables begin to turn. The Philippine National Police (PNP) itself has stated that any possible action against Dela Rosa would only be carried out upon lawful orders and with full adherence to due process, amid reports of a possible arrest warrant from the International Criminal Court (ICC).

The same officials who once justified killings in the name of “peace and order” are now insisting on proper procedures when accountability begins to close in. Dela Rosa himself has repeatedly leaned on due process in public remarks surrounding investigations tied to the drug war, reinforcing a defense rooted in the very system critics say was previously sidelined. This tension becomes even more pronounced when placed alongside the broader political storm surrounding the Duterte legacy, including ongoing scrutiny of Former President Rodrigo Duterte and the controversies that continue to shadow his administration.

Funny how due process only seems sacred when the powerful are the ones asking for it.

The irony deepens further in today’s political landscape, where the impeachment complaints surrounding Vice President Sara Duterte have once again brought constitutional processes into the spotlight. Suddenly, the same political circles once associated with forceful justice now speak the language of due process with renewed urgency. The principles once treated as secondary are now front and center.

But the thousands killed during the war on drugs were never granted that same courtesy. They were not given warnings of arrest warrants, nor were they protected by carefully worded assurances of lawful procedure. Was justice ever the principle or only the privilege?

At a moment when accountability once felt within reach, it now feels further away than ever. What should have been a clear path toward justice for the victims of the war on drugs is instead being swallowed by political turmoil. Instead of moving forward, the country is stuck in a cycle where accountability is constantly postponed. Justice suddenly turns into something negotiable depending on who is involved. Even the current political turbulence, including the impeachment complaints involving Vice President Duterte, where the House of Representatives has taken a leading role, shows how governance has become less about serving the public and more about political warfare between factions of power.

And in the middle of all this, the victims of the war on drugs are quietly pushed further into the background. The thousands of lives lost are reduced to footnotes in debates dominated by powerful names and political alliances. What was once framed as a national tragedy demanding justice is now treated as a political inconvenience that gets buried under newer controversies.

It’s definitely more fun in the Philippines because the government seems to think they signed up for a circus instead of a nation to run.

We are not here to watch their show, and we are done staying silent—Gising, Pilipinas.

The Frontman