[Newsstand] ‘I don’t feel safe’ is Sara Duterte’s presidential campaign in a nutshell

• Vice President Sara Duterte's narrative strategy included a desire to be photographed in handcuffs, reflecting a victimhood theme reminiscent of her father's political tactics.
• Despite expressing feelings of insecurity and distrust towards the court and police, she posted bail after a delay, highlighting a contrast between her public persona and the reality of her security situation.
• Her statement 'I do not feel safe' resonated widely, leading to social media engagement, but critics have attempted to counter this sentiment by expressing their own feelings of insecurity under the Duterte administration.

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Why the grave threats charges were only belatedly filed is another matter altogether, but Vice President Sara Duterte and her staff were fully prepared for them. Part of the preparation, self-evidently, was a narrative strategy.

According to Local Government Secretary Jonvic Remulla, Duterte’s representatives asked that she be detained in Camp Crime, the headquarters of the Philippine National Police. “Gusto niya na may picture siya na naka-handcuff. Gusto niya na may picture siyang nakakulong (She wanted to have a picture of herself in handcuffs. She wanted a picture of herself behind bars).”

Granted, this is Remulla speaking, one half of the sibling act which has been criticized for executing policy, or even policymaking, through press conferences. But the supposed conditions for Duterte’s surrender come straight from her father’s highly successful political playbook: When necessary, play the victim.

Also, the chief of the PNP’s Criminal Investigation and Detection Group, Police Major General Robert Norico II, said much the same thing. “I was informed by the [Vice Presidential Security and Protection Group] that she did not want to post bail. She wanted to be incarcerated.”

There was a change of mind, however, and the day after the arrest warrant was issued, the Vice President posted bail before the Quezon City Regional Trial Court. But she hesitated to enter the court’s premises for a long time. Talking to her lawyers while surrounded by the reporters, the photographers, and the cameramen who were covering the second highest official of the country as she made bail, she said she did not trust the court or the police. “I do not feel safe,” she said. “I do not feel safe anywhere.” 

She said she was at the courthouse only because she needed to post bail on their advice (“sabi ninyo”). She said she wanted the media to accompany her inside. When told by her own lawyers that the media could enter only up to the staircase, following the court’s guidelines, she asked, in Filipino: “Who will be at my back? Do you remember Ninoy Aquino, he died on the stairs.”

Eventually she went in, posted a total of P360,000 in bail, submitted her own photos in lieu of the so-called mug shot, posed with supporters outside the courtroom, then left.

A few words

Sara Duterte is a woman of few words. Last July, on the second day of her impeachment trial, she showed up at the Senate to meet her lawyers and then issued a one-sentence statement: “In this bloodbath and bludgeoning, I will be bloodied but unbowed.” 

When she posted bail some nine weeks after her impeachment trial started, she said considerably more than one sentence. But the core message, which she repeated often — sometimes like a bad line reading, sometimes like she truly meant it — was all of five words: “I do not feel safe.”

She said the threats she faced, from the police, among others, were “documented since 2023.” Then she returned to her theme and expanded it.

“I do not feel safe at all…kahit saan man. Hindi lang ako ‘yun, ha? Hindi lang ako ang ganito ang pakiramdam sa bansang ito, hindi lang ako…. ‘Yun ‘yung sentiment ko, ha? Hindi ito sa akin lang. Ang dami-dami nating mga kababayan ganoon yung pakiramdam nila. Hindi nila alam kung uuwi sila ma-hohold-up. Kada patak ng ulan hindi nila alam kung madadala yung bahay nila. Nobody feels safe in this country.”

It’s worth rendering the entire passage in English:

“I do not feel safe at all … anywhere. And it’s not just me. I’m not the only who feels this way about this country. I’m not the only one … That’s my sentiment. [But] It’s not mine alone. We have so many countrymen who feel this way. They don’t know if when they go home they will be held up. Every drop of rain, they don’t know if their house will be carried away [by a flood]. Nobody feels safe in this country.”

There is much that is hypocritical about this speechlet, or the core message itself. 

First. When the vice president’s father, Rodrigo Duterte, ruled the Philippines with an iron fist and waged his so-called war on drugs, public opinion consistently showed both outright support for it and high levels of discomfort about it. Surveys showed that at the height of the so-called war, with thousands of extra-judicial killings already recorded, more than three-fourths of voting-age Filipinos said they were worried that they or someone they knew would be the next EJK victim. I called it “an extraordinary index of anxiety.”

Second. The vice president is also secured by a bodyguard numbering in the hundreds; she enjoyed their protection even on the day she posted bail.

Third. The large-scale corruption of flood control funds can also be traced back to the Duterte presidency.

Testing a theme

But a theme does not need to be true to earn traction. And as we have learned from the very same playbook that the Marcos family used to rehabilitate its name and that the Duterte family applied to widen its appeal, a little truth wrapped around a big lie can carry it a long way.

The rampaging floods in the last few weeks drove many to anger; the external pressure on gas prices, on consumer goods, on the Philippine peso have stoked anxiety; the specter of violence reappearing in the Bangsamoro region, the reality of recurring power outages in the Visayas, the waste of previous classroom time because of inefficient or incoherent class suspension policies in the face of heavy rainfall — these have added to a sense of helplessness. 

It would be easy for an ordinary citizen to sympathize with that five-word core message: “I do not feel safe.” This was the unspoken appeal of the EJKs; it seemed to eliminate those people on the street who made us feel unsafe. (But we have forgotten that this sense was not in fact a simple one: A large part of the public supported the campaign against illegal drugs, but was anxious about the killings.)

Soon after the vice president posted bail and articulated her “sentiment,” the phrase was picked up on social media.

Just one example: At 2.27 pm on Saturday, the vice president’s brother, Rep. Paolo Duterte, posted an arresting infographic on Facebook, with the following message on it: “I am with VP Inday. I am a Filipino. And I don’t feel safe.” 

To their credit, some critics of the Dutertes have taken up the viral challenge and attempted to hijack the vice president’s theme. But there was no one common expression. The valiant attempts included: “I am a Filipino and I don’t feel safe with the Dutertes.” “I am a Filipino and I don’t feel safe with the Dutertes in power.” And: “I am a Filipino. I denounce the actions of VP Inday. At lalong hindi ako safe sa pamumuno ng mga Duterte.”

The counter-messaging (among many other factors) needs work. Simplest is best. – Rappler.com

Veteran journalist John Nery is a Rappler columnist. He anchors Rappler’s special coverage of the Duterte impeachment trial and hosts In the Public Square with John Nery every Wednesday.