Duterte’s Divine Dilemma: How to Preach Human Rights While Dodging Arrest Warrants

By Louis ‘Barok’ C Biraogo — August 26, 2024

IN A move that would make even the most cynical political pundit raise an eyebrow, former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte has decided to dedicate his post-presidency to championing human rights. But hold on, this isn’t your typical, run-of-the-mill, “let’s-all-get-along” human rights crusade. No, Duterte’s heart is set on defending the rights of one very special individual: Pastor Apollo Quiboloy. The same Quiboloy who’s facing a laundry list of accusations that would make even the most hardened criminal blush, including child abuse, human trafficking, and a whole host of other “atrocities.

For those of you unfamiliar with the holy bromance between Duterte and Quiboloy, let’s take a stroll down memory lane. Quiboloy, who claims to be the “Appointed Son of God” (presumably the kind of son who skips curfew and disregards commandments), was one of Duterte’s most ardent supporters during his presidency. In return, Duterte seemed to grant Quiboloy a celestial get-out-of-jail-free card. After all, what are a few allegations of human trafficking among friends, especially when you’ve got a direct line to the divine?

But now, the police—those pesky enforcers of mortal law—have decided to serve an arrest warrant on Quiboloy, raiding his 30-hectare compound in Davao City. According to Duterte, these actions are nothing short of an abuse of authority, a violation of Quiboloy’s rights, and possibly the result of a severe lapse in the police force’s religious education. After all, how could they not recognize that they’re dealing with someone who ranks just below archangels and above traffic cops?

Duterte’s passionate defense of Quiboloy’s rights is almost Shakespearean in its irony, given that this is the same man who, during his presidency, orchestrated a drug war that resulted in the deaths of thousands of Filipinos—many of whom, tragically, had not received personal visits from the Holy Spirit before their untimely demise. Ah, but Quiboloy is different. He’s special. He’s the kind of guy who, if you’re into that sort of thing, can have a chat with God and maybe pull a few strings on your behalf.

To understand Duterte’s newfound appreciation for human rights, we must assume that he’s operating under a different set of legal principles, perhaps drawn from an alternate universe where the Magna Carta was drafted on parchment made of divine endorsements. In this alternate universe, it makes perfect sense to protect the rights of a friend accused of heinous crimes while disregarding the rights of thousands of anonymous victims in the name of law and order.

Of course, some lawmakers, like Manila Rep. Bienvenido Abante Jr., couldn’t help but point out the tragic irony of Duterte’s position. To them, it seems a bit rich for the former president to suddenly champion the rights of an accused criminal when his administration was infamous for its brutal crackdown on suspected drug offenders who, for the record, were not granted the luxury of due process, let alone divine intervention. But really, what’s a little irony when you’re fighting for the rights of God’s anointed?

Let’s not forget House Deputy Majority Leader Jude Acidre, who diplomatically suggested that Duterte might want to help the authorities serve the arrest warrant on Quiboloy. After all, it’s just the law, and as a former president, one might expect Duterte to, you know, support that. But then again, when has the law ever stood in the way of a good friendship? Especially one that’s blessed by a higher power?

In the grand theater of hypocrisy, Duterte’s defense of Quiboloy stands as a masterclass. One can only imagine the cognitive gymnastics required to maintain that Quiboloy deserves all the rights and protections under the law while simultaneously brushing off the thousands who were denied those same rights under Duterte’s own watch. Perhaps the former president believes that rights, like friendship, are a selective affair—best reserved for those who have done him personal favors or whispered sweet nothings into the divine ear.

So, what are we to make of all this? Should we follow Duterte’s lead and offer prayers for peace and justice, specifically for those who run megachurches and face multiple criminal charges? Should we trust in his newfound advocacy for human rights, provided those rights don’t interfere with the extrajudicial actions of law enforcement? Or should we just sit back, enjoy the spectacle, and wait for the inevitable twist where Duterte, Quiboloy, and their merry band of lawmakers are canonized as saints of selective justice?

In the meantime, perhaps Duterte could offer some advice to the police on how to properly raid a compound. After all, he’s had plenty of experience with such operations during his presidency—though his raids rarely ended with anyone making it to court. Maybe that’s why he’s so upset: the police, in their zealousness to uphold the law, forgot to follow the golden rule of Duterte-era operations—no survivors, no trials, no problem.

As for recommendations, well, it seems only fitting to suggest that Duterte continue his crusade for human rights. Maybe he could even expand his efforts to include people outside of his inner circle. But let’s not get too carried away. After all, if we start applying human rights equally to everyone, where’s the fun in that?

And to the lawmakers who dare to point out the glaring contradictions in Duterte’s stance, maybe it’s time to take a page from Quiboloy’s book. Who needs the law when you’ve got the word of God on your side? Or better yet, the next time you face criticism, just declare yourself anointed and see how far that gets you. In the land of selective justice, anything is possible.