Is the Marcos administration simply repackaging the Duterte doctrine in softer language? Or is it a pragmatic shift forced by the limitations of top-down drug enforcement?

President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. appears to be adjusting the tempo of his administration’s campaign against illegal drugs.
After initially distancing himself from the bloody legacy of former President Rodrigo Duterte’s drug war, which was marked by thousands of killings and widespread human rights violations, Marcos Jr. now signals a shift in focus.
In a recent podcast, the President suggested that his administration will now target small-scale peddlers and grassroots-level operations, echoing the operational playbook of Duterte’s era, albeit with what he claims will be a less violent tone.
“I want to be respected, but maybe fear is better,” said Marcos Jr. — a statement that raised eyebrows and sounded eerily familiar to the rhetoric of his predecessor.
While he insists that his campaign will not resort to extrajudicial killings, his emphasis on instilling fear suggests a potentially harsher law enforcement approach than previously expected from his administration.
It seems that the promised “more humane” campaign may be giving way to the realization that dismantling major syndicates is proving far more difficult than anticipated, especially when these groups enjoy protection from within the police force and local governments.
This recalibration raises critical questions: Is the Marcos administration simply repackaging the Duterte doctrine in softer language? Or is it a pragmatic shift forced by the limitations of top-down drug enforcement?
When Marcos Jr. assumed office, he appeared keen to carve a different path — emphasizing rehabilitation, prevention, and treating drug addiction as a health issue rather than a purely criminal matter. But this new pivot to small-time pushers suggests a growing frustration with systemic corruption and the inability to pierce through the higher echelons of drug syndicates.
Indeed, the President acknowledged the difficulty of taking down major drug rings that are shielded by rogue police officers and complicit local officials. This is a candid admission of the rot within law enforcement institutions—a problem that no administration has fully confronted.
With the big fish eluding capture, the temptation to go after the small fry may be seen as the path of least resistance. But history has shown that this approach often leads to abuse, the miscarriage of justice, and the victimization of the poor, who are most vulnerable to the iron hand of the state.
Marcos Jr.’s pivot also comes at a time when international scrutiny of the Philippines’ human rights record remains intense, especially amid ongoing calls for the country to rejoin the International Criminal Court (ICC) to address accountability for drug war killings.
If the new approach leads to a surge in arrests or, worse, deaths, it could rekindle global criticism and domestic fear, reviving memories of a dark chapter many hoped had ended.
The challenge for Marcos Jr. is to strike a balance between effective law enforcement and the protection of civil liberties. A crackdown that simply shifts targets without reforming the institutions that enable the drug trade will fail in the long run.
What the country needs is a drug policy grounded in evidence, compassion, and integrity — one that punishes the powerful who profit from drugs, not just the powerless who peddle them to survive.
Whether this is truly a new strategy or just the same melody in a different key remains to be seen. But if fear becomes the principal tool of governance again, then the promise of a more humane drug war may have already faded into background noise.