Supporters and family members of drug war victims raise placards after filing complaints at the Philippine National Bureau of Investigation (NBI) in Pasay, Metro Manila on Apr 4, 2025. (Photo: AFP/Jam Sta Rosa)
| Published April 4, 2025
Manila, Philippines — Nearly a decade after former President Rodrigo Duterte launched his bloody “war on drugs,” families of the victims continue to seek justice — and now, they’re facing new waves of intimidation online.
This week, a group of grieving families, many of whom lost loved ones in police operations, gathered in Manila to call on the Philippine government to speed up its investigations into the deadly campaign. But as they push for accountability, they’re also sounding the alarm on something more disturbing: anonymous online threats aimed at silencing them.
“We Want Accountability, Not Fear”
“We are simply asking for justice,” said Christina (not her real name), whose teenage son was gunned down in a 2017 anti-drug raid. “Instead, we get threats on Facebook. Messages saying, ‘You’re next,’ or calling us traitors.”
Human rights advocates supporting these families have confirmed a pattern of online harassment that often intensifies when victims’ relatives speak publicly or attend court proceedings.
Groups like Rise Up for Life and for Rights — a faith-based coalition aiding the families — say the online abuse appears calculated, potentially coming from troll farms or coordinated groups aiming to suppress dissent.
“It’s not just cyberbullying — it’s intimidation,” said the group’s spokesperson. “And it’s meant to make victims shut up and disappear.”
The Long Road to Justice
From 2016 to 2022, Duterte’s war on drugs left thousands dead — officially just over 6,000, but rights groups believe the number could be closer to 30,000, including many extrajudicial killings in urban poor communities.
Despite international pressure and an ongoing investigation by the International Criminal Court (ICC), Philippine authorities have been slow to prosecute key players involved in the deadly crackdown. While some local courts have convicted low-ranking officers in isolated cases, the broader system remains stalled.
For families like Christina’s, the silence from the justice system is as painful as the loss.
“How can they say it’s over when nothing has changed?” she asked. “Our sons are still dead. And those who killed them are still free.”
Government Response
The Marcos administration has walked a political tightrope on the issue. While distancing itself from Duterte’s harsher policies and pledging a “more humane” approach to drug control, it has also rejected the ICC’s jurisdiction and has made no moves to launch a full-scale investigation.
Justice Secretary Jesus Crispin Remulla has previously said the Philippines is capable of handling its own legal matters — a claim critics say has not been backed by action.
Meanwhile, the Philippine National Police (PNP) denies any coordinated effort to harass victims’ families, and claims to be committed to reform.
But human rights advocates aren’t buying it.
“This isn’t just about a few bad cops,” said a lawyer working with the families. “It’s about a culture of impunity that reaches the highest levels of power — and that still exists today.”
A Call to the International Community
With domestic accountability faltering, many families are once again turning to the international stage. Organizations like Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch continue to urge the ICC to push forward, despite Philippine resistance.
“The world cannot look away,” said one activist. “If we allow these crimes to be buried, then justice dies — not just in the Philippines, but everywhere.”
For now, the families remain defiant. Amid threats, delays, and uncertainty, they refuse to let their loved ones become forgotten names in a footnote of history.
“We have no power,” Christina said, holding a photo of her son. “But we have truth. And we will never stop telling it.”
Be the first to comment