So, there we were, gathered in yet another Senate hearing on the war on drugs, where former President Rodrigo Duterte and his supporters went toe-to-toe with critics, media, and human rights groups — and what proved to be the million-peso question?
Who really coined “Davao Death Squad” (DDS)? Was it a brilliant PR move by a sensationalist journalist? A shadowy whisper from the police? An offhand comment that grew legs? Strangely enough, no one was able to pin down who was responsible. Not the senators, not the resource persons, not the media.
For a term as loaded as “Davao Death Squad,” it’s astonishingly unclaimed. This phrase has been a media darling for over a decade, with everyone from journalists to activists and law enforcement officials using it.
The DDS has come to embody the whole vigilante or extrajudicial killing narrative associated with the former mayor-turned-president. But who coined it? Like a true urban legend, DDS simply exists. It has seeped into our collective consciousness without so much as a copyright credit.
One could argue that DDS has transcended its origins, assuming a life of its own in the lexicon of Philippine politics. But this isn’t some catchy pop culture slogan; we’re talking about a term that conjures up images of masked men on motorcycles, knock-knock hits, and a chilling sort of “justice.”
With such grave connotations, you’d expect someone — anyone — to remember where it came from. Yet at the Senate hearing, the term floated around like a phantom, with everyone scratching their heads as if trying to recall an old friend from high school.
The media, of course, would be a prime suspect. Journalists are known for coming up with nicknames for anything and anyone, and “Davao Death Squad” is as catchy as it gets. It has a ring to it, a sense of danger and dread.
Then there’s the possibility that the term originated within law enforcement circles as a sort of shorthand for the rumor mill of Davao. In a city where word travels fast, maybe DDS was cop slang before it found its way to the public. After all, it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility that police officers, in casual conversation, started referring to the activities of certain unsanctioned players with a nickname that just stuck. But then again, no ex-police officers had shown up at the hearing to claim this as their legacy either.
Or could it be that “DDS” owes its notoriety to the man at the center of it all? Duterte himself has flirted with the name in his speeches, making offhand comments that fuel speculation while keeping everyone guessing.
The former president has long maintained an ambivalent stance toward the term, neither fully disowning nor explicitly claiming it. Instead, he does what he does best — sidestep, make ambiguous remarks, and occasionally drop a reference to the “killing fields” of Davao.
In the end, maybe it’s better that no one knows for sure who coined the term. The Davao Death Squad is a modern-day ghost story, the kind that gains traction precisely because it’s untraceable. It’s a political urban legend that has grown legs and wandered across years, cities, and national borders.
Like any good myth, DDS is open to interpretation, with the facts blurring and shifting depending on who’s telling the story. Some say it’s a product of hyperbole, a media concoction; others insist it’s all too real. And in the absence of clarity, the myth only grows.
Whether DDS originated as a journalist’s shorthand or a law enforcement slip-up, the real genius of the term is that it doesn’t need an author. The acronym speaks for itself, hinting at a shadowy network while never fully revealing its secrets.
By remaining unclaimed, “Davao Death Squad” has managed to be simultaneously everything and nothing — feared by some, revered by others, and still a point of contention at Senate hearings to this day.
It seems that sometimes, in the wild world of Philippine politics, the greatest mystery isn’t the story itself — it’s who started it in the first place.
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