In "Some People Need Killing," investigative journalist Patricia Evangelista delves into the dark heart of the Philippines' brutal war on drugs. This harrowing account examines the systemic violence that unfolded during President Rodrigo Duterte's six-year term, resulting in the deaths of thousands of Filipinos. Evangelista's work, hailed as a "journalistic masterpiece" by the New Yorker, serves as both a devastating chronicle of state terror and a poignant monument to its victims.
The Rise of Duterte and His War on Drugs
Rodrigo Duterte's ascent to power in 2016 was built on a simple yet compelling narrative: all of the Philippines' problems - poverty, crime, and corruption - could be traced back to illegal drugs. He painted a picture of a nation overrun by 4.5 million "drug-crazed" citizens, whom he dubbed "durugistas." This catch-all term encompassed addicts, users, and pushers, effectively dehumanizing a significant portion of the population.
Duterte's rhetoric was inflammatory and unapologetically violent. He encouraged citizens to take matters into their own hands, even suggesting that killing a drug-addicted neighbor would be doing their parents a favor. This stark departure from the more measured approach of previous administrations resonated with many Filipinos, particularly those who felt left behind by the country's economic growth.
The appeal of Duterte's message lay in its simplicity and its promise of swift action. He positioned himself as a man of the people, in stark contrast to the liberal elites he accused of being out of touch with the realities of ordinary citizens. Human rights, he argued, were a luxury that crime-ridden neighborhoods couldn't afford. His solution was brutally straightforward: eliminate the scourge of illegal drugs by eliminating those involved with them.
Duterte's campaign pledge to kill drug users and dealers was not mere rhetoric. Upon winning the presidency, he set about implementing his violent vision with alarming efficiency. Over the course of his six-year term, thousands of Filipinos were gunned down by police in what were officially described as anti-drug operations. Human rights organizations estimate that by the end of Duterte's presidency in 2022, the death toll from his war on drugs had reached as high as 25,000.
The Power of Storytelling in Justifying Violence
Duterte's ability to justify and garner support for his violent campaign rested heavily on his skill as a storyteller. He frequently recounted tales from his time as mayor of Davao City, using these anecdotes to paint a picture of drug users as irredeemable monsters who posed an existential threat to society.
One story he often told on the campaign trail involved the disappearance and murder of an 18-month-old infant. Duterte claimed that the perpetrator was a drug addict who, when questioned, callously admitted to his crime and even suggested he sometimes resorted to bestiality when unable to find human victims. This horrifying tale, whether true or not, served to reinforce Duterte's narrative that drug users were inhuman and beyond redemption.
Duterte would then ask his audience what they would have done in his position, implying that he had taken matters into his own hands. He never explicitly admitted to killing the suspect but often mentioned receiving a snub-nosed Ruger revolver as a Christmas gift that year, saying the timing was "exactly right."
While the veracity of this particular story is unverifiable, what is known is that during Duterte's tenure as mayor of Davao City, a vigilante group known as the Davao Death Squad executed over 800 small-time drug dealers and petty thieves, many of them street children. Human Rights Watch reported that the squad operated from a list provided by local police with the mayor's approval.
These stories, whether based in fact or embellished for effect, served a crucial purpose in Duterte's political strategy. They dehumanized drug users and dealers, making it easier for the public to accept and even support the extreme measures he proposed. By painting drug addicts as baby-killers and monsters, Duterte created a narrative where violence against them could be seen as not just justified, but necessary for the safety of society.
The Disconnect Between Rhetoric and Reality
While Duterte's stories and statistics painted a picture of a nation under siege by millions of violent drug addicts, the reality was far different. His claim of 4.5 million "drug-crazed" Filipinos was based on a misapplication of global averages to the Philippine population. In truth, drug use in the Philippines was below the global average, never exceeding 1.5 percent of the population, with the majority using marijuana rather than methamphetamine.
Similarly, Duterte's assertion that drug addicts had murdered 77,000 people over four years was a significant exaggeration. The actual number of murders during that period was 53,000, and attributing all of these to drug users would be a gross oversimplification.
Despite these discrepancies, Duterte's inflated numbers became the justification for the violence he unleashed upon taking office. In the first six months of his presidency alone, Duterte used the verb "to kill" 1,254 times in public speeches, setting the tone for the brutal campaign that was to follow.
Operation Tokhang: The Mechanics of State Violence
The primary mechanism of Duterte's war on drugs was Operation Tokhang, a name derived from the Filipino words for "knock" and "plead." In theory, this operation involved police compiling lists of suspects, knocking on their doors, and giving them a chance to surrender and reform. In practice, however, it often amounted to little more than state-sanctioned executions.
For many Filipinos, a knock on the door became synonymous with death. Sometimes it was masked vigilantes, other times police with badges, but the outcome was often the same - summary execution. Witnesses reported that before killing their victims, the assailants would often declare "Duterte kami" - "We are Duterte" - effectively claiming the president's authority for their actions.
The official narrative, echoed in countless police reports, painted these killings as justifiable self-defense. According to these reports, suspects invariably opened fire when confronted, forcing officers to return fire. Remarkably, these encounters almost always resulted in the death of the suspect, with no injuries to police officers.
The statistics surrounding these operations strained credibility. In one day in Bulacan province, for example, police reportedly engaged in 32 separate firefights resulting from knock-and-plead operations. In each case, the suspect was killed with a single shot to the head or heart, while not a single officer was injured. This pattern was repeated in police reports across the country, with officers achieving near-perfect kill rates while suspects, despite allegedly initiating the violence, failed to hit their targets.
When questioned about these improbable statistics, police chiefs attributed them to luck, while Duterte himself dismissed any scrutiny, framing the outcomes as unequivocally positive.
The Human Cost: Efren Morillo's Story
While most victims of Duterte's drug war were silenced forever, Efren Morillo survived to tell his story, providing a rare firsthand account of the brutality of these operations. Morillo's experience starkly contradicted the official narrative of violent drug dealers resisting arrest.
Morillo was not a drug dealer or even a regular user. He was a poor, young man who occasionally smoked marijuana with friends. On August 21, 2016, he visited a friend to collect a small debt and ended up joining a game of pool with some neighbors. Their gathering was interrupted when police burst in, hurling accusations and insults.
Despite finding no drugs during their search, the police proceeded to tie up Morillo and his companions. Morillo was taken outside, forced to kneel, and shot in the chest after his pleas for mercy were ignored. He survived by playing dead as the officers killed his companions, then managed to escape into the jungle once the police had left.
It took Morillo nine hours to reach a hospital, where he was immediately handcuffed to his bed and charged with assault. The police had already filed their report, claiming they had killed four notorious drug dealers in a shootout. However, Morillo's survival and subsequent testimony, along with forensic evidence, revealed the truth: the men had been executed while kneeling with their hands tied behind their backs.
Morillo's case took five years to resolve, but he was finally acquitted on March 17, 2023. His story provides a chilling glimpse into the reality of Duterte's drug war, where innocence was no protection against state violence.
The Unraveling of the Official Drug War
While Efren Morillo's case was unusual in that he survived to tell his story, journalists investigating other victims of the drug war found similar patterns. The police were acting as judge, jury, and executioner, often targeting not just small-time criminals but anyone associated with drugs or drug users.
Duterte dismissed these accusations as baseless complaints from human rights advocates. However, a high-profile scandal eventually forced a change in the official drug war strategy. In early 2017, police in Quezon City kidnapped a South Korean businessman, Jee Ick Joo, during a fake drug bust. Despite receiving a $90,000 ransom, the officers panicked and killed Jee, cremating his body and flushing the remains down a toilet.
The botched cover-up led to a national and diplomatic scandal. The Senate held hearings, official apologies were issued to South Korea, and Jee's family received compensation from the state treasury. With the police force's reputation in tatters, Duterte was forced to acknowledge the need for "internal cleansing" within the Philippine National Police.
In January 2017, Duterte officially dismantled the apparatus he had created to execute his drug war. For a brief moment, the official death toll remained fixed at 7,080. However, this pause in the violence was short-lived.
The Continuation of Violence
While the official drug war had been suspended, the killings did not stop. Instead, the tactics changed. In the next phase of the campaign, police delegated the dirty work to off-the-books contractors and vigilantes. This shift allowed the state to maintain plausible deniability while continuing to pursue Duterte's violent agenda.
According to domestic and international human rights groups, this second wave of extrajudicial killings may have tripled the total number of deaths by the end of Duterte's presidency in 2022. These extraordinary accusations are currently the subject of an ongoing investigation by the International Criminal Court.
The continuation of the killings, even after the official suspension of the drug war, underscores the deep-rooted nature of the violence Duterte had unleashed. It suggests that the culture of impunity and disregard for human rights had become entrenched within certain segments of Philippine society and law enforcement.
The Power of Narrative in Shaping Public Opinion
Throughout his presidency, Duterte's ability to maintain public support for his violent campaign rested heavily on his skill as a storyteller. He crafted a narrative that resonated with many Filipinos, particularly those who felt marginalized and frustrated with the status quo.
Duterte's stories assigned blame to a group that had little opportunity to seek justice: drug users, addicts, and small-time dealers. By dehumanizing this group and portraying them as the root of all societal ills, Duterte created a scenario where extreme measures could be seen as necessary and even heroic.
This narrative was powerful enough to override facts and statistics that contradicted Duterte's claims. Even as evidence mounted of innocent victims and police abuses, many Filipinos continued to support the drug war, believing it was making their communities safer.
The Aftermath and Ongoing Investigations
The full extent of the violence unleashed during Duterte's presidency is still being uncovered. The International Criminal Court's ongoing investigation into the extrajudicial killings represents a significant step towards accountability, but justice for the thousands of victims remains elusive.
The legacy of Duterte's drug war extends beyond the immediate loss of life. It has left deep scars on Philippine society, eroding trust in law enforcement and the justice system. The normalization of violence as a solution to social problems may have long-lasting effects on the country's political and social landscape.
Moreover, the targeting of predominantly poor and marginalized communities has exacerbated existing inequalities and social divisions. Families torn apart by the killings face not only the trauma of loss but also ongoing stigma and economic hardship.
Conclusion: The Enduring Impact of State Violence
Patricia Evangelista's "Some People Need Killing" serves as a crucial document of a dark period in Philippine history. It exposes the human cost of Duterte's war on drugs and challenges the narratives used to justify state violence.
The book's title, taken from Duterte's own words, encapsulates the dangerous simplicity of his worldview - the idea that complex social problems can be solved through the elimination of certain groups of people. This mindset, when adopted by a state, leads to the erosion of human rights and the rule of law.
Evangelista's work reminds us of the power of journalism to bear witness to injustice and give voice to the voiceless. By meticulously documenting the stories of victims and survivors, she ensures that the truth of what happened during Duterte's presidency cannot be easily erased or forgotten.
As the Philippines moves forward, the lessons from this period must be reckoned with. The ease with which democratic institutions were subverted in service of a violent campaign serves as a warning about the fragility of human rights and the rule of law. It underscores the need for constant vigilance against the abuse of state power and the importance of holding leaders accountable for their actions.
Ultimately, "Some People Need Killing" is not just about the Philippines or the war on drugs. It's a stark reminder of the human capacity for both cruelty and resilience, and the ongoing struggle to build societies based on justice and respect for human dignity. As the world continues to grapple with issues of state violence and human rights, Evangelista's work stands as a powerful testament to the importance of bearing witness and speaking truth to power.