The world’s most powerful nations have lined up to tell the International Criminal Court (ICC) exactly what they think of its authority, or lack thereof.
Russia’s opinion is refreshingly blunt, even if only symbolic.
After the ICC issued an arrest warrant for Vladimir Putin, Moscow responded by issuing arrest warrants of its own against ICC judges and prosecutors. The hunters suddenly found themselves hunted.
The United States, meanwhile, has chosen a more sophisticated approach. Washington has imposed sanctions and visa restrictions on ICC officials involved in cases involving American interests or those of its allies.
The message is essentially the same: You may call yourself an international court, but don’t expect us to submit to your jurisdiction.
Then there is Hungary, a member of the ICC. Prime Minister Viktor Orbán openly refused to treat the arrest warrant for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu as automatically enforceable — remarkable not because it came from an adversary of the court, but because it came from a country that had voluntarily joined it.
Whatever one thinks of Russia, America and Hungary, they share a common bond. They refuse to surrender their sovereignty and criminal jurisdiction to a body sitting thousands of miles away in The Hague in the Netherlands.
Which brings us to the Philippines.
When the Marcos administration first confronted the renewed ICC interest in the Duterte drug war, its position was clear enough.
The Philippines had withdrawn from the Rome Statute. The country’s courts were functioning. There was therefore no need for foreign intervention. That argument had merit regardless of one’s political loyalties. It was based on a fundamental principle recognized even by the Rome Statute itself: international jurisdiction is supposed to complement national courts, not replace them.
Then politics entered the picture. What was once a firm rejection of ICC involvement gradually evolved into cooperation. The Marcos administration that once questioned the court’s authority began facilitating actions that would have been unthinkable only a few years earlier.
Former President Rodrigo Duterte found himself in ICC custody. Efforts are being made to also deliver Senator Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa to The Hague. And there are persistent moves to draw Vice President Sara Duterte into the same orbit by stretching theories of responsibility connected to her father’s anti-drug campaign.
The legal merits of individual cases are for courts to determine. That is not the issue. The issue is consistency. If the ICC truly lacks jurisdiction over Filipinos, then that principle should apply regardless of who occupies Malacañang and regardless of who sits in the opposition.
If the ICC possesses legitimate authority, then government officials should have the courage to say so openly rather than invoking sovereignty one day and international justice the next.
The danger lies in transforming an international tribunal into a political instrument convenient only when it targets one’s adversaries. History teaches that such tools rarely remain in the hands of those who first wielded them.
The Pandora’s Box opened today against political opponents may tomorrow be opened against those currently enjoying the protection of power. Governments change. Alliances shift. International prosecutors develop new theories.
Those cheering the ICC today may find themselves denouncing it tomorrow.
This is why the issue can no longer be left to political convenience or executive discretion. It is incumbent upon the Supreme Court to settle the matter once and for all.
Is the Philippines subject to ICC jurisdiction despite its withdrawal from the Rome Statute? Can Philippine authorities lawfully surrender Filipino citizens to the court? What are the constitutional limits of cooperation with international tribunals?
These questions deserve definitive answers grounded in law rather than partisan calculations.
The law must be the same whether the name is Duterte, Dela Rosa, Marcos, or someone yet to come. Otherwise, justice becomes merely another weapon in the political arsenal, waiting for its next owner.
