The sense of betrayal is spreading from the blistering sands of Dubai to the cramped quarters of Hong Kong, the overworked wards of London, and the care homes of Los Angeles.

Overseas Filipino workers are seething with a collective rage over what they perceived as the unprincipled surrender of Duterte to the clutches of the ICC after he was deceived into believing the administration would not cooperate with the meddling Tribunal.

On 11 March, he was arrested and, on the same day, delivered to the sterile confines of the ICC, a gut-punch to the millions who believed in a Philippines unbound by foreign masters.

On 12 March, a spontaneous gathering of protesting OFWs and supporters occurred outside the ICC detention center in Scheveningen, near The Hague, the Netherlands, where Duterte was brought in a private jet that flew him from Manila.

Members of the huge Filipino diaspora assembled outside the facility to witness a motorcade believed to be carrying Duterte arrive.

They held up Philippine flags and banners, waving them fervently, and chanted slogans — “send him back!” — a demand that he be returned to the Philippines, while others shouted his name. It wasn’t an organized gathering but Filipinos had trekked from far away to show their support.

The crowd’s chants reflected their spontaneous outrage over his detention by the ICC on charges of crimes against humanity related to his anti-drug campaign.

The demonstration is expected to be repeated elsewhere as OFWs and supporters who viewed his transfer as an affront to national pride and his legacy vent their sentiments.

For the OFWs, the sting of the betrayal is real. They saw Duterte carving out order where others saw only profit, providing them with peace of mind for the welfare of the families they left back home.

He gave them the Department of Migrant Workers to fight the illegal recruiters who swindled them and the bosses who broke them.

The former chief executive pulled them back from foreign shores when the pandemic left them stranded and when practically the whole world turned its back on them.

His words — raw, unfiltered and fierce — echoed their heartbreak, a far cry from the empty promises of those who’ve never known their grind.

To them, Duterte was their shield who now lies shattered in a foreign jail.

The OFWs see the ICC, with its lofty judges and Western backing, as having no jurisdiction over Duterte since the Philippines is not a member after having withdrawn in 2019.

Thus the country was under no obligation to comply with its arrest order, which some forces seized as an opportunity to eliminate a formidable political foe in Duterte.

OFWs perceive the affront as a power grab by interests who’ve never had to sweat for a peso or weep for family oceans away.

Duterte being whisked off to The Hague was the equivalent to OFWs seeing their nation’s pride being trampled underfoot.

The rage runs through the bones of their relatives back home. In Davao, their kin light candles at Rizal Park, and their chants rise for Duterte’s return.

In Hong Kong, where Duterte rallied them mere days before his arrest, they waved flags in defiance, their voices drowned by distance.

OFWs consider the betrayal not of Duterte but of themselves, the ones who’ve bled abroad missed their children’s lives and carried a nation on their backs.

The leaders they once trusted allowed their hero to be snatched by foreign hands.

OFWs backed Duterte not for being without fault but for fighting for a country that didn’t bend to outsiders, a nation that Filipinos could believe in while they scrubbed floors, hauled bricks, and tended the sick.

From every corner of the globe where OFWs planted the flag, anger is percolating with many holding the view that once Duterte was their strength and now they’ll be his.

It’s a betrayal not of one man, but of every worker who trusted in a Philippines that could stand tall and proud.