The CCTV footage of former Philippine National Police (PNP) chief and Senator Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa tripping over his own feet as he tried to outrun the authorities out to arrest him is now a meme, a punchline, and a breaking news clip.

Some Filipinos could not help but laugh at the spectacle that the former police chief had been reduced to. Some sneered. Some were outraged. The rest of the world was shocked to witness a public official caught between a bad action movie and a satire of his own making.

The absurdity of Dela Rosa’s display of cowardice exposed how authoritarian masculinity falls. It stumbles on its own desperation, it is whiny, it pleads for protection, and it will not hesitate to resort to violence—even in the hallowed and protected halls of the Senate.

Dela Rosa has every reason to be worried. The International Criminal Court’s (ICC) warrant for his arrest comes after Duterte’s own arrest in March 2025, and after the tribunal recently found sufficient evidence to try the former president for crimes against humanity. Duterte’s fate signals what awaits Dela Rosa.

Incriminated by his own words

Duterte, with Dela Rosa as his top cop, did not govern the Philippines through policy. He governed through the political theater of a tough-talking, gun-wielding Tatay with a loyal fraternity at his bidding.

Duterte demanded obedience through profanity, misogyny, and threats. The public pronouncements made in his staccato-like speeches could be summarized in three words: Kill them all. 

In February, I sat in the public gallery at the ICC in The Hague listening as lawyers for the prosecution read excerpts of Duterte’s own speeches back to the court. The same lines once greeted with applause at rallies were entered as evidence of incitement and intent that sanctioned “a widespread and systematic attack on the civilian population.”

Also in the public gallery were a handful of women, who wept hearing the words that had sanctioned the execution of their brother, their husband, their father. Lydjay Acopio, whose partner Renato and daughter Myca were killed in a police raid were among those present in the ICC. Myca was a few weeks shy of her 4^th birthday. Dela Rosa had called Myca’s death, “collateral damage”, saying that in a war, “shit happens”.

‘Our Tatay‘

The scene inside the court was a stark contrast to what was taking place outside. Duterte supporters stood vigil outside the ICC and across his detention center. They posed for photos next to a life-sized standee and carried banners calling for the release of their Tatay. Most of them told me that their presence was the least they could do for Duterte and everything he has done for them.

A group of seafarers had travelled to The Hague from Rotterdam where they were awaiting deployment. One seafarer was still in awe at how Duterte did not bother to diplomatically sugarcoat his rage when the body of domestic worker Joanna Demafelis was found inside a freezer in Kuwait. He lashed out at the government of Kuwait and ordered a deployment ban.

 “No one stood up for us like that. Only Tatay,” the seafarer told me.

No one. Stood up. For us. Like that. Imagine how that memory sits in the emotional archive of overseas Filipino workers.

Duterte channeled the vicarious rage that many Filipino migrant workers have to subdue to keep their jobs. For many migrant workers, the working conditions of life abroad are a cycle of everyday indignities that can only be met with compliance, obedience, and silence.

Duterte’s own authoritarian rule mirrored what was already familiar in these systems. It is perhaps also what makes his iron fist regime palatable to many.

The cult of loyalty to Duterte

It would be too simple to say that the seduction of Duterte was his bad boy persona with a penchant for violence. Duterte transformed rage into masculine political theater and sold it as protection. In his performance, violence masqueraded as care and profanity-laced rage was recast as strength.

That is why his supporters call him Tatay. Dela Rosa, along with Harry Roque, were among the most loyal sons.

Underneath all this was Duterte, heading a political fraternity that organized power through patronage and enforced it through intimidation wrapped in sexism and blistering curse words. His administration was held together by men bound by allegiance rather than competence.

Even now, the fraternity closes ranks. Robin Padilla has publicly offered protection. Retired police general Mao Aplasca, Dela Rosa’s mistah or classmate at the Philippine Military Academy, newly installed as Senate Sergeant-at-Arms and now relieved, is at the center of the alleged ploy to shield Dela Rosa. But political brotherhood continues to crack.

The gunshots inside the Senate were the sounds of Duterte’s authoritarian masculinity collapsing under the weight of its own hollow performance. – Rappler.com

Ana P. Santos is Rappler’s gender and sexuality columnist and host of the video series, “Sex and Sensibilities”. She has a postgraduate degree in Gender (Sexuality) from the London School of Economics and Political Science as a Chevening scholar.