Duterte Hires Foreign Lawyers After Discovering Filipinos Can’t Defend the Indefensible

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — March 22, 2025

RODRIGO Duterte, the Philippines’ former president and a man who once declared himself the nation’s ultimate patriot, has a curious relationship with justice. For years, he swore that only Filipino judges could ever hold him accountable—because, apparently, patriotism is a legal defense. But when the International Criminal Court came knocking, Duterte’s love for his country suddenly took a backseat. His new legal dream team? Not a single Filipino in sight. Who needs national pride when you’ve got international lawyers on speed dial?

Yes, baroks, in a move that left logic battered and bleeding in an alley, Duterte assembled an all-foreign legal dream team, led by British-Israeli lawyer Nicholas Kaufman. The reason? According to Vice President Sara Duterte, only those with “ICC experience” were worthy. Apparently, experience is more important than nationalism when the possibility of a life sentence is involved. Who knew?

The Great Harry Roque Exile

But wait—this circus has even more acts. Enter Harry Roque, a man whose loyalty to Duterte was once as unshakable as his talent for shifting political allegiances. Roque, who had proudly registered as an ICC counsel, arrived in The Hague expecting a warm welcome. Instead, he found himself unceremoniously booted from the defense team, like an overeager intern who brought decaf to the office.

The official reason? Roque’s basis for staying in the Netherlands had not been established. Translation: He didn’t make the cut. Adding insult to injury, Malacañang is now urging him to return home and face human trafficking charges. This is, of course, deeply unfair—he should at least be allowed to flee to a country of his choosing, like a proper Philippine politician.

The Sovereignty Paradox

Duterte’s decision to hire foreign lawyers raises an important philosophical question: If a man screams about sovereignty in a forest, but only foreign lawyers can hear him, does he make a sound? This is the same leader who lambasted the ICC for being a Western institution that had no right to meddle in Philippine affairs. But when it became clear that the ICC wasn’t going to be intimidated by one of his signature angry speeches, suddenly international expertise became indispensable.

To help Duterte stay consistent, I humbly propose the following solutions:

Reality TV Crossover – Since Duterte has decided to make his defense a global affair, why stop at foreign lawyers? He should hire a reality TV producer to turn the ICC trial into a Netflix docuseries. Imagine Survivor: The Hague Edition, where contestants (lawyers) compete to outmaneuver the prosecution, and only one will win immunity.
TikTok Tribunal – If Duterte really wants to embrace international trends, the ICC should ditch its traditional judges and replace them with a panel of TikTok influencers. Every argument will be judged not by legal merit, but by how many likes it gets. If Duterte’s lawyers can make a compelling defense in a 30-second dance challenge, they win.
Judge Swap – Since Duterte only trusts Filipino judges, why not ask the ICC to appoint a panel of Filipino judges who specialize in exonerating powerful people? The Sandiganbayan already has experience in this area.
Duterte’s “Home Court” Strategy – If Duterte truly believes only the Philippines can judge him, he should try the “sovereignty loophole” defense: Insist that the ICC proceedings be held in a Davao City karaoke bar, where he can personally oversee his own trial while belting out My Way.

Lessons in Loyalty

Perhaps the saddest character in this tragicomedy is Salvador Medialdea, Duterte’s former executive secretary, who did make it onto the defense team—only to be promptly sidelined when Kaufman was officially appointed. Medialdea had barely warmed his seat before being asked to unwarm it. Meanwhile, Harry Roque, once a tireless Duterte apologist, is now left wandering the Netherlands with nothing but his legal skills and a contempt charge back home.

The lesson? Loyalty to Duterte is like a subscription to a bad streaming service: It costs you dearly, and when you finally try to cancel, they don’t even notice.

Final Verdict

This entire legal circus proves that, despite all his bravado, Duterte’s real strategy is simple: Nationalism is great—until survival is at stake. Whether or not his foreign legal dream team can save him from an ICC conviction remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: The hypocrisy is undeniable, the irony is delicious, and the political drama? Chef’s kiss.