When Baste Duterte took the stage during the Araw ng Dabaw celebration over the weekend, no one expected him to drop a line worthy of Philippine history books: “My father had your father buried, but my father you handed to his jailers,” he said in the dialect.
Boom. Mic drop. End scene. The subtext? Loyalty is dead, and in its place stands President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr., the “king of ingratitude.”
At the heart of this drama is the very Filipino concept of “utang na loob”— a debt of gratitude so sacred it cannot, must not, be broken. And yet, according to the Dutertes, Marcos Jr. just took this long-standing cultural tradition, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the trash like an expired campaign promise.
For context, let’s rewind to 2016. Rodrigo Duterte, then the tough-talking, death-squad-loving mayor of Davao City, bulldozed his way into Malacañang and made it his mission to grant the Marcos family their long-coveted wish: a hero’s burial for the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos Sr.
With protests raging in the streets and democracy purists foaming at the mouth, Duterte Sr. declared, “Past is past,” and buried Marcos Sr. in the Libingan ng mga Bayani as if he were a national treasure instead of a deposed kleptocrat.
Fast forward to 2025. The tables have turned, and the former kingpin of Davao is no longer barking orders — he’s behind bars, awaiting trial at the International Criminal Court (ICC) for alleged crimes against humanity committed during his infamous war on drugs. And the man at the helm of the nation? None other than Bongbong Marcos, the very beneficiary of the Dutertes’ historical revisionism.
So why was the young Duterte fuming? Simple: utang na loob was expected. To the Dutertes, it wasn’t just a burial — it was an investment. One that should have yielded unwavering loyalty, political protection and maybe a few more years of impunity for the family patriarch. Instead, Marcos Jr. played the long game, distancing himself from the controversial Duterte legacy the moment it became a political liability.
But here’s where it gets truly ironic. Rodrigo Duterte, the man who built his political brand on being ruthless, unyielding, and completely indifferent to public opinion, is now playing the victim card. The same leader who dismissed human rights as an inconvenience, who told the ICC to mind its own business, and who scoffed at international law, is now at the mercy of the very system he once ridiculed. Oh, talk about poetic justice.
Baste Duterte’s statement may have been a gut-punch to Marcos Jr., but it also revealed the Achilles’ heel of Philippine politics: transactional loyalty. It’s never about principles or genuine gratitude. It’s about power, self-preservation, and who benefits the most at any given moment. If Marcos Jr. saw the Dutertes as political baggage, why would he go out of his way to protect them?
At the end of the day, the Dutertes’ biggest mistake wasn’t in trusting Marcos Jr. — it was in assuming utang na loob still holds weight in a political arena where alliances shift faster than gas prices. After all, if Marcos Jr. could shrug off decades of plunder accusations against his own family, did Baste Duterte really think he’d lose sleep over betraying one of his former allies?
In Philippine politics, there are no permanent friends, only permanent interests. And if history tells us anything, it’s that today’s kingmaker can easily become tomorrow’s cautionary tale.
Just ask the former president now pathetically counting the days in a foreign cell.
e-mail:mannyangeles27@gmail.com