Introduction

Neoliberalism was introduced in the Philippines through the structural adjustment program imposed by the World Bank in the early 1980s (Bello 2009). Neoliberalism refers to a set of economic policies emphasizing free trade, privatization, deregulation, and the retreat of the state from matters of wealth redistribution and social service provision (England and Ward 2008). Neoliberalism is also a theory proposing the advancement of human welfare through the liberation of entrepreneurial freedoms within “an institutional framework characterized by strong property rights, free markets, and free trade” (Harvey 2005).

Currently, neoliberalism in the country is best understood by scrutinizing the three pillars of deregulation, liberalization, and privatization via the public-private partnership (PPPs) schemes and how these schemes exacerbated the sufferings in the lives of the Filipino people.

In a highly stratified society, the state has been and will always be the promoter of the market and free trade. At the same time, it is the guardian of property rights. The Philippine state has emerged as the final arbiter on behalf of the forces of neoliberal globalization, enacting and enforcing laws that facilitate their penetration into the domestic economy as well as easing their control and domination over the country’s valued resources (Bauzon 2008).

Duterte’s candidacy was very timely. It came when the neoliberal project run by politicians closely identified with the ruling class obviously failed. The implementation of neoliberalism has only exacerbated the already oppressive and exploitative conditions and relations operating in a neocolonial country.

This paper attempts to explain how Duterte’s popular war on drugs has led to the “slaughtering of the poor” further destroying the lives of the Filipino people. It will also endeavor to locate the specific contexts, elements, content, and requirements of human rights in social work practice in the Philippines in the unfolding realities of the country.

The Betrayal of EDSA and the Rise of Duterte’s Populism

Since the 1940s, when the country was granted formal independence by the United States of America (USA), elite democracy has been masterfully embedded in the historical-political landscape of the Philippines (Simbulan 2005).

The concepts of “governance from below” (Faguet 2005) and the so-called people’s empowerment (UN 2012) are anchor where elite democracy hinges itself in the current operation of the Philippine societal system. Elite democracy creates a hologram of respecting the people’s choice through a repeated phenomenon of electoral exercises at the various levels for decades. Through these electoral exercises, the ruling class subtly obtains the mandate to rule from the governed.

The Philippine political system is structured around patronage and what academics call rent-seeking, or the use of privileges from the state to benefit private and family business. These families are able to influence and control the courts, the legislative bodies, and the seat of national power (Malacañang Palace) and to control the most profitable parts of Philippine economy. In fact, the existence of political clans and dynasties has encouraged a political system that is dominated by patronage, corruption, violence, and fraud at the national and local levels (Simbulan 2012).

The belief that the Epifanio de los Santos Avenue (EDSA) uprising in 1986 (Philippine Archbishop Socrates Villegas has described the phenomenon as a result of divine intervention) finally ended the miserable state of affairs of country was the collective consciousness immediately after the downfall of the Marcos dictatorship.

The EDSA uprising was the culmination of a then developing anti-dictatorship struggle against the Marcoses. It was a historical 4-day event where millions of Filipinos massed up along one of the major thoroughfares in Metro Manila lending support to the rebel Filipino soldiers (positioned in a big military camp) about to be attacked by loyal military forces of the Marcos dictatorship. The civilian support to the rebel soldiers encouraged other military and police personnel to shift allegiance away from the dictatorship. When substantial number of military and police commands declared their allegiance to the Filipino people, the Marcoses were forced to leave the country.

The Filipino people pinned both their national and personal redemption in this bloodless revolution. The Filipinos even boast that their EDSA uprising eventually inspired “color” revolutions in other parts of the world (Calica 2016).

From a political vantage point, the EDSA and its aftermath promised a representative democracy more responsive to the masses (Bello 2016). After the disastrous kleptocracy, that was the Marcos dictatorship, the 1987 Constitution promised “a more equitable distribution of opportunities, income, and wealth” (Bello 2016).

What destroyed the EDSA project and paved the way for Duterte was the deadly combination of elite monopoly of the electoral system, the continuing concentration of wealth, the neoliberal economic policies, and the priority on foreign debt repayment imposed in Washington (Bello 2017). By 2016, there was a yawning gap between the EDSA Republic’s promise of popular empowerment and wealth redistribution, and the reality of massive poverty, scandalous inequality, and pervasive corruption (Bello 2017).

With the slogan “change is coming” and with the platform that the drug menace can be decisively solved in the first 3 months, Duterte popularly won the 2016 presidential election, with 16.6 million votes out of more than 40 million voters.

For some, Duterte offered the spectacle of a strong leader ready to expose the uncomfortable realities of the Philippine politics using the most vulgar vocabulary (Curato 2017). Duterte’s crass politics was effective in serving three political responses: (a) expose the hypocrisies of the of powerful institutions; (b) give voice to citizen’s deep-seated injuries; and (c) set the tone necessary for his style of governance (Curato 2017).

Duterte’s brand of populism allowed him to connect with various socioeconomic classes, groups, and regions. To the middle classes and the rich, he promised rule of law by adopting a zero-tolerance approach to criminality; to Metropolitan Manila, he promised a swift solution to the traffic congestion; to the Ilocano ethnic-linguistic class, he professed his admiration for the late Marcos and forged a de facto alliance with the Marcoses, who were among his biggest campaign supporters; and to the masses, many of which relish his spontaneous storytelling and folksy image, Duterte promised a caring, humble, and accessible form of government (Heydarian 2018).

Duterte presented himself as the voice from the margins, the leader of a “revolt of the periphery” against an uncaring center (Heydarian 2018).

Duterte’s Brand of Authoritarianism

One of the characteristics of the country’s political system is that the legal system only actually operates in the urban centers and its suburban areas. As you go further into the countryside, the legal system operates sparingly, when authority and control are exercised by the warlords (Lara and Schoofs 2013). The local politicians cum local warlords make their wishes and voices as the law of their respective territories. What emerged was the autocratic and authoritarian character of political patrons that practice patronage politics and make people passive and cowed.

Duterte’s roots can be traced to Danao City, a town in north-central part of Cebu Island. The Dutertes had long been a significant political family in Danao City as early as years preceding the World War II (McCoy 1994). Part of Duterte’s childhood was spent in Danao City and he was exposed with the brand of politics of the Durano family. The Duranos remain to be one of the most resilient warlords in Central Visayas who still until now, exercise control over substantial parts of the Cebu Island through intermarriage, local political coalition building, and linking up with powerful national leaders.

Atty. Vicente Duterte, the father of president, previously served as Mayor of Danao after he was appointed in that position in an acting capacity by then President Sergio Osmeña (Fuentes 2015). He and his family moved to Davao in 1949. Atty. Vicente Duterte became the governor of unified Davao from 1959 to 1965 and was President Ferdinand E. Marcos’ cabinet secretary in the pre-martial law years (Flores 2016).

Considering that he was exposed to the politics of the Duranos and of his father, it comes as no surprise when he, Duterte himself, describes himself as a political patron.

Since he became the mayor of Davao City (the regional urban center of southern Mindanao) in 1986, Duterte made it clear that there can be security, but that only he can provide it. Security is provided according to his personal judgment of justice and adequateness (Quimpo 2017). It is he who edicts, passes judgment, and orders the executioners to do their job. It is a personalized fight between those who do not follow the rules and the rightful vigilante whose rules reign supreme. It is boss rule in pure form (Quimpo 2017).

Akin to other patrons, he demands personal loyalty, from the people and from the small patrons, and provides personal protection. For example, Duterte has openly spoken about his unqualified support to the police whom he unleashed on his war on drugs. His directive to the police officers is clear: Do your duty, and if in the process you kill 1000 persons because you were doing your duty, I will protect you (Cupin 2016).

His intolerance for criticism and dissent is legendary (Butuyan 2017). Time and again, especially when irked by critics of his war against drugs and utter disregard for human rights and rule of law, and when co-equal branches, particularly the Supreme Court, asserted independence, Duterte threatened to impose martial law (Jenkins 2016). So early on, Duterte has talked about amending the Constitution in so that, among other provisions, the constraints to declaring martial law would be removed, thereby giving more powers to the president (Malig 2016).

The clash between government troops and Islamic State of Syria and Iraq (ISIS) aligned rebel forces in Marawi City on May 23, 2017 came as an opportune moment that Duterte seized to declare a state of martial law and suspension of the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus in the whole of Mindanao (Salaverria and Esguerra 2017). Proclamation 216 is short and riddled with loopholes. It is a tale, woven out of fake, unconfirmed reports, and real events but enlarged beyond proportion in order to approximate what the Constitution requires. It was confirmed on May 30, 2017 by Duterte, that indeed, Proclamation 216 was his lone act. His admission validated what Secretary Lorenzana told opposition senators on May 29, 2017 that the Department of Defense and the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) did not recommend martial law (Ager 2017). It was earlier said by the AFP that martial law was not necessary to contain the Maute group and other terrorist groups in Mindanao (Ager 2017).

Duterte was consistent with his threat to ignore the Supreme Court if it decides against the proclamation of martial law in Mindanao. This threat was echoed by his rabid supporters in the leadership of Congress. Although Duterte later stated that he would abide by the decision of the Supreme Court, he warned that should the ruling be against Proclamation 216, the Supreme Court is “left on its own to face the consequences of its action.” Earlier, Duterte warned that he would ignore the Supreme Court and that martial law would not be lifted until I am satisfied conflict has ended (CNN Philippines 2017).

Three days before the Supreme Court was expected to issue its ruling on petitions against martial law proclamation, Duterte warned, “I will jail critics of martial law”. He said, “It’s not dependent on the whim of the Supreme Court. Should I believe them? When I see the situation is still chaotic and you ask me to lift it? I will arrest you and put you behind bars,” Duterte said in a speech before local officials (Agence France-Presse 2017).

After Congress surrendered its authority and abandoned its Constitutional duty to review and decide on Proclamation No. 216 and instead passed separate resolutions supporting the declaration of martial law in Mindanao, petitions were filed questioning the constitutionality of Proclamation No. 216 and demanding its immediate lifting (Morallo 2017). After the petitions were filed, Pantaleon D. Alvarez, the Speaker of the House and a known supporter of Duterte threatened “constitutional crisis” should the Supreme Court decide against the declaration of martial law and suspension of the privilege of habeas corpus in the whole of Mindanao (Morallo 2017).

Duterte has masterfully played on the fear of the Filipino people on the effects of illegal drugs. Among these fears are their families’ possible victimization by illegal drug abuse and drug-related crimes (Juego 2016). For others, hatred is magnified by those personally victimized by illegal drug traffickers and users (Juego 2016). There is also the popular frustration and anger against failure of previous administration to seriously address illegal drugs and criminality (Juego 2016).

Duterte galvanized the support for his war on drugs by securitizing the issue of illegal drugs. Securitization involves the transformation of an issue that is managed within the normal political domain into a security matter (Quimpo 2017). The securitizing move is deemed successful if it convinces the targeted audience, such as the public, or at least gains its acceptance, about the existential threat and the need for the exceptional measures to counter it (Quimpo 2017).

The figures dangled by Duterte’s government on the extent of the drug problem in the country are not consistent. The Dangerous Drugs Board (DDB), the government’s policy making, and strategy-formulating body on drug prevention and control declared that the Philippines had 1.8 million drug users in its 2015 study. On the contrary, Duterte in various occasions, said: there can be 3 million, 3.7 million, or 4 million drug users in the Philippines (Punongbayan 2017).

In sum, Duterte’s estimated 4 million drug users is a bloated figure that lies beyond the realm of statistical probability and lacks any solid empirical basis (Punongbayan 2017). But the debate over 1.8 million versus 4 million pales in comparison to the disturbing way by which the administration has brazenly misused statistics and ignored scientific evidence in its efforts to justify the brutal drug war. Duterte’s sacking of DDB Secretary Benjamin Reyes over contradictory data only raises further suspicion that Duterte is not being totally forthright about his numbers (Punongbayan 2017).

The reason behind the misrepresentation of the numbers is disturbing: to the extent that Duterte utilizes drug use data to justify his brutal drug war, an overestimation could easily be used to justify an extension of the bloody drug war up to the President’s last day in office (Punongbayan 2017).

By all indications, his war against drugs, war against terrorists, and war against corruption are central and key campaigns in Duterte’s exercise of extraordinary powers. Its undercurrent is to shield law enforcers from prosecution and imprisonment and to isolate, persecute, and silence his detractors and “enemies” on fabricated and trumped-up charges. He has already put Sen. Leila M. de Lima in jail, ousted Supreme Court Chief Justice Maria Lourdes A. Sereno, and threatens the current Ombudsman Conchita C. Morales with impeachment.

The War on Drugs Is Essentially a War Against the Poor

Since his ascendancy to the presidency, Duterte’s term has been marked by violence and bloodshed with the intensified war on drugs. The unrelenting perversion of justice and legal systems and the complete disregard for the sanctity of human life have been clothed with populism’s democracy between good and bad citizens: “only criminals should fear an iron-clad law and order regime” (Juego 2016).

Even the human rights practice and discourse have been distorted and thoroughly mangled. In the war on drugs, human rights have been wrongly associated with the defense of the criminals, rather than the prosecution of the weak, the vulnerable, and the victims against the capacity of the state for abuse of power (Juego 2016).

They wanted to redefine or label the persons extrajudicially killed as “enemies” or its equivalent, in order to create a category of citizens for whom the ordinary laws no longer need to apply and who may be killed without fear of consequences or the prospect of effective investigation. For Duterte, the drug pushers and drug addicts are not human; hence. they do not have any rights.

The government’s anti-drug campaign Operation Tokhang (knock and plead) has killed off more than 14,000 alleged individuals since mid-last year. What facilitated the identification of targets was when about 950,000 drug pushers and addicts surrendered to the local police by December 20, 2016, thinking that they would be spared.

Police authorities are emboldened by Duterte’s shoot-to-kill order against drug suspects who resist arrest. Since then, the wholesale and gruesome killings have punctuated the urban and suburban areas of the country. The cardboard message on dead bodies declaring: “I am a drug pusher, do not emulate me,” is certainly a disturbing symbol on the brutality of this ongoing battle in the Philippines.

Duterte caused even more alarm after making controversial statements regarding executing drug suspects. He initially admitted to killing them while he was still the mayor of Davao City. “I used to do it personally. Just to show to the [policemen] that if I can do it, why can’t you?” (Macas 2016). Police officers routinely bust down doors in the middle of the night and then kill in cold blood unarmed people suspected of using or selling drugs (AI 2017). Witnesses described alleged drug offenders yelling they would surrender, at times while on their knees or in another compliant position. They were still gunned down. To cover their tracks, police officers appear often to plant “evidence” and falsify incident reports (AI 2017).

A religious priest who has the reputation of tracking the phenomenon of extrajudicial killings (EJK) in Davao City during the past years to the killings happening nationwide, uncovered frightening similarities. The targets, tactics, and modes of killings of the Davao Death Squad (DDS) of then Mayor Duterte have since been copied all over the country. The priest even accused Duterte of transforming the long decadent and corruption-laden Philippine National Police (PNP) force into his Presidential Death Squads (PDS). The PNP has been employing dual dreaded tactics (legitimate police operations and vigilante killings) in the killings. Data are slowly asserting that policemen have resorted to vigilante-type killings apart from the so-called legitimate police operations to evade blame. There have been more than 4100 drug-related killings by unknown armed persons (AI 2017). By all indications, the extrajudicial killings are state inspired and even purportedly state sponsored.

As of the third quarter of 2017, over half of the adult Filipinos, or about 6 of 10, believe only the poor are killed in the brutal campaign against illegal drugs (PDI 2017). A solid majority of 54% of the citizenry aged 18 years and above agreed with the statement that “rich drug pushers are not killed; only the poor ones are killed (PDI 2017). A recent study by researchers from Ateneo de Manila University and De La Salle University came up with the profile of the majority of the victims of the bloody drug war: male, poor and shot dead in an alleged exchange of fire with police during a drug bust. The victims were tricycle drivers, construction workers, vendors, and garbage haulers (PDI 2018). The study focused on the 5021 drug-related killings from May 10, 2016 to September 29, 2017 reported by various media organizations (PDI 2018).

The Philippines abolished capital punishment in June 2006. Taking the cue from Duterte, his House of Representatives last March 7, 2017 has finally given its nod to restore capital punishment in the country by making offenses related to manufacturing and trading in illegal drugs punishable by death (Nicolas and Ilas 2017). The death penalty can be carried out through lethal injection, firing squad, and by hanging. The legislators considered death penalty as a “vital tool” in Duterte’s campaign on drugs.

Implications to Human Rights in Social Work Practice in the Philippines

The pernicious effect of the war on drugs on the Filipino psyche is immediately felt. The exponential increase of casualties together with the culture of impunity has created a temporary collective trauma. The sight of bodies on the street has become commonplace; the fear of being or knowing the next victim, pervasive (AI 2017). For the families of the victims, hopelessness is very evident. Even those families whose members were killed by a stray bullet or a victim of mistaken identity were reduced to paralysis. Those who are suspected of being drug pushers and addicts are forced by their parents to go back to the provinces to evade Oplan Tokhang. Fear has enveloped the nation.

The Erosion of Bayanihan (Community) Spirit

Bayanihan is a Filipino tradition of people going out of their way to help those in need (Ealdama 2012). This community spirit of a typical Filipino community has been one of the hallmarks of the Filipino culture. It is almost instinctive for every Filipino to extend sympathy, share his meager resources in times when his neighbors or relatives are in need, and accompany them during their period of grief when a member of the family or a relative dies. History has shown us that this social cohesion at the community level facilitates and nurtures helping processes for the affected individuals and families.

This laudable imprint on the Filipino culture is slowly being undermined. Immediate families of the EJK victims have experienced personally loading the corpses of their loved ones into a vehicle that would bring the dead bodies to funeral homes since nobody in the community would help them. Wakes for the dead are shortened with only a sprinkling of community friends paying their respect and spending time with the aggrieved family. The funeral is also joined by only courageous individuals. The reason is that no one wanted to be associated with the victim lest they be suspected also of being a drug pusher or addict.

Denial of Support to the Families of the Victims

Narratives from interviews of families of the victims of EJKs exposed that some social services department under some local government units in Metro Manila (social services have been devolved to the local governments since the 1990s) have withheld financial assistance for families whose cause of the death of a member of the family was EJK (NASWEI 2017). The families are instructed by sympathetic staff of the social service department to deliberately lie (invoking other causes of death) in order to access the financial assistance.

Undermining the Mental Health of the Families of the Victims and the Community

The actual killings left deep scars and traumas on the families left behind.

The families of the victims exhibited the following symptoms: (a) re-experiencing the incident through bad dreams or flashbacks; (b) feelings of strong guilt or depression; (c) staying away from objects of places that are associated with the past experience; (d) having difficulty of sleeping; (e) angry outburst; and (f) feeling tensed (NASWEI 2017). Such mental and psychological effects are being aggravated by cases, wherein the victim was the bread winner of the family. They now face economic dislocation (NASWEI 2017).

Impact on Children

The violent campaign against drugs has had a devastating impact on children, who have been killed and otherwise harmed during operations (AI 2017). Between 1st of July and early December 2016, there were between 25 and 27 deaths of children as a result of drug-related operations. Of these, two were actual targets; the rest were killed “by mistake” (AI 2017). On a much wider scale, many children are experiencing severe trauma as a result of losing a parent or sibling and often even witnessing the killing; they also face deeper poverty after a breadwinner’s death (AI 2017).

In addition to death, children are at times subjected to other forms of violations. Several local human rights activists said that children arrested for drug-related offenses are often held in adult detention facilities, in violation of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child to which the Philippines is a state party (AI 2017).

Proposed changes to the Philippine Penal Code, including the lowering of the age of criminal responsibility, threaten to worsen the situation (AI 2017). Even before the war on drugs took off the ground, allies of Duterte in the House of Representatives (lower legislative house) introduced a bill that could allow children as young as nine to be targeted in the crackdown (Baldwin and Marshall 2017). The House Bill No. 922 proposed to lower the minimum age of criminal responsibility from 15 to 9 years old to prevent what it calls “the pampering of youthful offenders who commit knowing they can get away with it.” Duterte said in a speech in Manila on December 12, 2017: “We produce a generation of criminals. Young children were becoming drug runners, thieves, and rapists and must be taught to understand responsibility” (Baldwin and Marshall 2017).

The Culture of Impunity and Fear

Impunity means the impossibility of bringing the perpetrators of violations to account, whether in criminal, civil, administrative, or disciplinary proceedings, since they are not subject to any inquiry that might lead to their being accused, arrested, and tried and if found guilty, sentenced to appropriate penalties and to making reparations to their victims (de Mesa 2011). Impunity arises from a general failure by the states to meet their obligations to investigate violations; to take appropriate measures in respect of the perpetrators, particularly in the area of justice, by ensuring that those suspected of criminal responsibility are prosecuted, tried, and duly punished and to take other necessary steps to prevent a recurrence of violations (de Mesa 2011).

This culture of impunity has been buttressed by the recent official pronouncements that Duterte has never sanctioned extrajudicial killings.

The culture of fear has also affected some members of the human rights community. The fear has also initially blunted the long-established initiatives and softened the courage of some school based, human rights non-government organizations and institutions, and religious congregations and institutions that have been in the forefront of human rights work after the downfall of the Marcos dictatorship in 1986.

What Is to Be Done?

The 2014 International Federation of Social Work (IFSW) definition of social work states that “social work is a practice-based profession and an academic discipline that promotes social change and development, social cohesion, and the empowerment and liberation of people. Principles of social justice, human rights, collective responsibility and respect for diversities are central to social work. Underpinned by theories of social work, social sciences, humanities, and indigenous knowledge, social work engages people and structures to address life challenges and enhance wellbeing.”

With such definition, social justice and human rights among others are considered to be the moorings of the social work profession. The work for social justice and human rights is both a daunting and perilous task for social workers in the country. Specifically, the arena for human rights in social work practice is not a neutral area. Human rights violations are a natural phenomenon in the Philippine society where the minority rules over the majority. By placing human rights at the core of the social work practice in the Philippines, our profession is expected to promote, safeguard, and defend the rights and interests of the most vulnerable, marginalized, and poor Filipinos. To deepen human rights in social work practice, there is an overwhelming need to immediately respond to the ongoing war on drugs.

Central issue to the war on drugs is the curtailment of life. Value for life is a sine qua non for all human rights (UN Centre for Human Rights 1994). To quote, “the worth of life, human and non-human existence, is the fountain-head for all other ideals and values that follow. This implies not only opposing the negation of life, but also positive and affirmative aspects. Wherever possible, the profession has not only to resist violations of human rights, but actively to support all life-promoting and nurturing activities. This is so that there can be fulfillment of human existence. Life is intrinsically connected and interdependent in all its parts and forms, human and non-human. Disruption of any of its aspects affects the social fabric or thread of life, thereby injuring humankind. Value of life implies that suffering and death are not just individual phenomena; they touch others just as joy, happiness and life do” (UN Centre for Human Rights1994).

Social Workers as Victim and Family of the Victim Advocates

Combating impunity first core principle is the right to truth (de Mesa 2011). Amid the war on drugs as well in other conditions, at the individual level, the right to truth is the right of the victims or families and relatives to know the basic facts that surrounded the violations or abuses they suffered personally. At the collective level, the right to truth means the state must take effective measures to preserve records concerning violations and to facilitate public knowledge of the circumstances which ensued the perpetration of the crime (de Mesa 2011).

Manipulation of the truth, such as the planting of evidence, turning in false reports, or making use of false witnesses are also forms of refusal to one’s right to truth (de Mesa 2011). The burden to prove the truth is unevenly placed often on the shoulders of the poor and the intimidated (de Mesa 2011). Denial of the right to the truth or the right to know leads often to the disabling a person’s pursuit of justice or to an outright rejection of a person’s right to justice (de Mesa 2011).

After the right to know, comes the right to justice and the right to reparations and guarantees of non-recurrence (van Boven 2013). These three rights are considered as basic trilogy to serve the plight of the victims (van Boven 2013).

As recommended by the National Center for Women and Policing, the social workers as advocates of the victim and/or family of the victim will provide a wide variety of services: (a) supporting the victim and/or family of the victim through addressing emotional needs (including their mental health conditions) and concrete needs for assistance and information; (b) facilitating the victim and/or family of the victim decision making; (c) informing the victim and/or family of the victim of their rights; (d) serving as a liaison between agencies; (e) offering crisis intervention; (f) conducting safety planning; and (f) documenting the assault. (National Center for Women and Policing n.d.)

All these roles will have to be performed under the long established, professional, and standard social work helping process.

Social Workers as Service Providers Under an Authoritarian Regime

Social workers in the Philippines are spread across a wide range of organizational and practice contexts. They are embedded in international or national NGOs, central or local government, and charities or faith-based organizations. Those whose areas of practice include child welfare and family support, organizing; and advocacy and social action can extend their scope of services to include the victims as well the families of the victims. The multi-approaches and multi-levels of service provision and tasks to the victim and families of the victims can be designed considering that the social workers have already professionalized their role from their practice with individuals, families, and groups.

A community-based drug rehabilitation program should be put into place immediately. This is the most appropriate response compared to compulsory detention centers (Tanguay et al. 2015). In 2012, the United Nations (UN) agencies released a statement calling for the closure of compulsory centers. They cited a vast and growing body of evidence equivocally finding such practices to be ineffective, costly and out of line with international best practice guidelines, and human rights obligations (Tanguay et al. 2015). The UN statement called on governments to deploy the necessary resources to scale-up voluntary, evidence-informed and rights-based drug dependence treatment and support services in the community.

Several common elements have been identified as critical to effective community-based services that meet the needs of people who use drugs. These elements were reported to lead to positive health and treatment outcomes and stimulate greater demand for services and should be considered minimum for community-based drug rehabilitation program (Tanguay et al. 2015). They include some elements like: (a) voluntary access; (b) client-based approach; (c) meaningful involvement of people who use drugs and parts of civil society; and (d) comprehensive health and psychosocial care services (Tanguay et al. 2015).

The program at the community should also be capable of handling sensitive security concerns. People who currently use drugs, relatives of those killed in police operations, and local activists all said that people targeted in Oplan Tokhang face a double-edged sword: if they refuse to surrender, they will be seen as not cooperating and possibly killed; if they do surrender, they must “voluntarily” provide detailed information, submit fingerprints, be photographed, and accept surveillance and drug testing—in addition to pledging they will no longer use or sell drugs (AI 2017).

Social Workers as Human Rights Organizers

Duterte’s alarming pronouncements, along with the increasing casualties in his war on drugs, has attracted criticisms from the international community. At the start of his campaign, Duterte has been condemned by the UN for the increasing death toll attributed to police operations and vigilante killings. In particular, the UN Human Rights Council criticizes his shoot-to-kill order to the police, without solid evidence against drug dealers and users (Roxas 2017). The fear is that this will ultimately trample on human rights and undermine justice. Meanwhile, the International Criminal Court has expressed concerns over the endorsement and contributions of Philippine government officials to this bloody campaign against drugs, which it sees as tantamount to becoming a serious crime against humanity (Wong 2018).

Since May 19, 2016, the Human Rights Watch has been issuing commentaries, releases news, and dispatches letters condemning the war on drugs (HRW 2018). It has also released videos and research papers exposing the anti-poor character of such campaign (HRW 2018). Amnesty International has also joined the growing chorus of condemnation and described wave of drug-related killings in the Philippines to be “systematic, planned, and organized” by authorities and could constitute crimes against humanity (AI 2017).

Since the issue at hand unfolds in the life and struggle of the poor, the main arena of struggle is within the country. All the best intentions to help from outside as well as international projections on the notoriety of the war on drugs can best sustain if there is a living protest movement in the country. Central to the building of the protest movement is the organized voice, strength, and resolve of the victims to fight for their rights.

Organizing the Victims and Their Families

Central to the building of a broad movement against EJKs is the formation of an organization of the victims of EJKs and their families.

The social workers that are now deeply involved in providing psychosocial services to the families of the victims can proceed to form the victims’ organization. By reaching out and organizing the victims, social workers can collectively weave the families of the victims’ stories, revealing “a pattern of extreme cruelty and eventually describe the massive proportions of the harm inflicted on them and their families.” The weaving process can be therapeutic in itself. More importantly, it is cementing and surfacing the resolve from the collective suffering of the families.

The organization can define and proceed with its educational campaign to raise their collective understanding on how Duterte’s war on drugs have fundamentally violated their basic civil and political rights. The campaign can also venture into courses wherein the operating relations and structures in the Philippine society that condemned them into a perpetual poverty. Such newly acquired consciousness can temper their resolve in the struggle.

Social Workers for Human Rights

Human rights has always been a political arena since it concerns with relations of power. Given this, everything is political despite the relatively widespread sentiment that most of everyday life is completely apolitical (Baines 2011).

Inherent in social work is the critique of social structures and the operations of power (Preston et al. 2014). There is a need for repositioning the practitioner and the social work itself by recognizing that social structures are both constructed and constructing in their intersect with people’s lived experiences (Preston et al. 2014). Every action we undertake is political and ultimately about power, resources, and who has the right and opportunity to feel positive about themselves, their identities, and their futures (Baines 2011).

The social work profession, like any profession in the country can greatly help in shaping public opinion against the devastating effects of the war on drugs on the lives of the poor. Their expertise and practice can lend credence to their organization’s position, calls, and demands to altogether stop the war on drug. Such open manifestation of analysis can complement and add on the positions already taken by some medical associations, religious organizations as well as lawyers groups.

Young Human Rights Defenders

A human rights organization among social work students against the war on drugs is also another way of encouraging the students to take the cudgels on behalf of the families of the victims. They do not only get to know human rights but will necessarily experience the full meaning and significance of human rights for social work (Hartman et al. 2016).

The Young Human Rights Defenders as a student organization is currently being organized in different colleges in the University of the Philippines Diliman campus. It is spearheaded by the Junior Social Work Students of the Philippines (JSWAP), an organization of social work students enrolled in the Department of Social Work, College of Social Work and Community Development (CSWCD), University of the Philippines, Diliman, Quezon City, Philippines.

Linking up with families of the victims in community visits and the holding of symposia and fora (where the families of the victims present their testimonies on how their love ones died, lawyers expound on the gross violation of EJK on the fundamental rights of the victims, and professional social workers talk on the psychosocial effects of the EJKs) can enrich their practical knowledge of human right in social work practice. Before they graduate from the undergraduate course, they can begin developing a social work perspective on human rights (Hartman et al. 2016).

Social Workers as Human Rights Educators

Social work education in the country is characterized by wide latitude in terms of its content and practice. The professionalization of training of future social workers started way back in 1965 through a law, Republic Act 4373. The law introduced the requirement that social workers complete a bachelor’s degree incorporating 1000 hours of supervised field experience. Since then, the profession has been upgrading its instruction through the efforts of the National Association of Social Work Education, Inc. (NASWEI) together with the 76 schools offering social work education.

The multi-faceted problems that the war on drugs created among the lives of the poor bring into surface the realization that human rights should not be a separate course or optional module. A comprehensive response to the war on drugs and others problems of the poor emanating from the oppressive and exploitative structures in Philippine society hinges a profession that uses human rights framework and lens.

Citing the war on drugs as the impetus, tertiary schools operating in the country can start making human rights course integral into the social work curriculum: (a) integrate and operationalize human rights as a principle and perspective in social work education; (b) initiate the development of a pedagogy of human rights in social work; (c) build a corps of social work educators nationwide who can be advocates and trainers in developing a pedagogy of human rights education in social work; and (d) contribute to the reorientation of social work as a human rights profession.

The NASWEI under the project “A Challenge in Upholding Standards in Social Work Practice in Meeting Human Rights and Extrajudicial Killings (EJK)” came up with a publication entitled “The Human Costs of the Philippines War on Drugs.” This is the NASWEI’s way of contributing to the human rights advocacy and discourse in the context of the on-going drug war (NASWEI 2017). The book is also a social work teaching tool on human rights (NASWEI 2017). The 76 schools affiliated with NASWEI nationwide are expected to use this teaching material in their social work courses.

Social Workers as Propagandists

What is more worrisome is that the systematic countermeasures of the current administration against those who oppose Duterte’s war on drugs. One way is the formation of a “keyboard army” where dissent is to be silenced. This is composed of 12 million social media “volunteers” (Williams 2017). The government pays online trolls up to $2000 a month to create fake social media accounts and flood the digital airwaves with propaganda (Williams 2017). Beyond creating fake news, these internet provocateurs are promoting hate and black propaganda (Juego 2016). Fake news or false news is fabricated content presented as factual information in the guise of news (Sunstar Philippines 2018). Black propaganda is commonly understood as false information that is spread coming to be from a source on one side when in reality it usually comes from the opposite side (Urban Dictionary 2008).

The more serious problems are not the trolls but real people, the loose cannons behaving badly, boldly expressing hate, and political incorrectness (Juego 2016). Such propaganda offensive is simultaneously being carried out by the police hierarchy, the justice department, the well-funded Presidential Communications Operations Office (PCOO), and officers of the Volunteers Against Crime and Corruption (VACC).

Earlier, in a non-commissioned survey conducted from June 23–26, 2017 by Social Weather Station (SWS) nationwide, the respondents were asked whether they agree or not with this statement: Many of those killed by police in the anti-drug campaign did not really fight back during police operations (Cupin 2017). Of the 1200 respondents surveyed, 20% said they strongly agreed with the statement, while 34% said they somewhat agreed. Only 8% said they strongly disagreed and 12% said they somewhat disagree. The rest were undecided.

In an apparent effort to further repair the damage and regain public trust, Duterte designated the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA) as the “sole agency” in charge of the war on drugs.

Duterte issued the order a few days after his latest net satisfaction score suffered its biggest fall since he became president. Among the events in the news when the survey was conducted was the death of a minor in the hands of Caloocan City cops that triggered rare street protests (The Philippine Star 2017).

The DDB, the PDEA’s mother agency has rolled out a new slogan “love life, fight drugs.” According DDB Chair Dionisio Santiago, “the fight against drugs is about protecting life of the people. It is about the life of a drug user who needs help to free himself or herself from drug depression.” (PDI 2017). For now, the PNP is not completely out from the war on drugs. There is a supposed clamor for the PNP to be involved again, citing “complaints from local government executives that drug peddlers have gone back.”

Any regime like Duterte’s government is always pre-occupied in “how to maintain legitimacy in an economic system that continually undermines the basis of this legitimacy” coupled with his war on drugs. The fake news, the deliberate mangling of human rights concepts and principles as well as attacks on the national human rights institution, the Commission of Human Rights (CHR) are expected to continue and even worsen.

The social work educators can transform their classroom as “site of dissent” by meticulously explaining to the students the true human rights concepts and principles and how these are violated by the war on drugs, the true mandate and ongoing efforts of the CHR to be true to their mandate, and exposing the army of trolls employed by the current administration.

Conclusion (Creating Spaces of Human Rights and Resistance)

The war on drugs has created a wide array of problems, challenges, and opportunities to further “recognize human rights as both a socio-political framework and a framework for social work practice.”

Social work practice and education should be framed by understanding power, social structures, collectivism, and resistance (Preston et al. 2014).

Peoples’ rights are not always granted voluntarily and gratuitously. Since elite democracy only formally guarantees the rights of the Filipino people through the laws, it becomes imperative for the social work profession, together with the Filipino people to assert and fight for their democratic, civil, and political rights. The full realization of the people’s rights can only be the product, effect, and fruit of a collective and mass undertaking.

Social workers can and should immediately participate in the drawing in of social work students, social work educators, and social work practitioners in rendering support for the organizations of victims, communities badly hit by the EJK, and initiatives from other professions in opposing the war on drugs. Such diversity is inherent space for human rights activism and sites of people’s resistance.

Human rights in social work practice in the country can also be a tool for emancipation and liberation. As a perspective, a transformative social work practice in the Philippines, as it is being promoted and practiced, should embrace the belief that people’s individual and collective initiatives and struggles for rights do not just consider themselves confined to the existing international instruments and local laws. The Filipino people should consider that they have the inherent right, and potential power, of creating and extending the frontiers of rights on the basis of the life experiences (Gutto 1993).