TRESHA MAE PIZON

Reflection: Extra Judicial Killings

Church as Herald

Church as Servant

Sean Williams January 25, 2018

Bishop Pablo Virgilio David was already an outspoken critic of the drug war
in the Philippines when an unarmed teen was gunned down just minutes from
his parish. On Aug. 16 at around 8 p.m., Kian delos Santos, a 17-year-old
student, was chased by police down an alley in the cramped Manila suburb of
Caloocan.

Later that night the boy’s body was found, curled in the fetal position with a
gunshot wound to his head. A pistol and a small bag of shabu—a local crystal
methamphetamine—were found too. The police called itself defense: The boy had
fired a .45-caliber pistol at them while working as a mule for a local drug lord.
CCTV showed otherwise. Two plain-clothes cops beat and dragged delos Santos
away and left him to die beside a basketball court.

Bishop David was enraged. Kian’s death was “a very specific case of abuse,” he
said, adding, “It seems there’s no rule of law anymore. Is this what the drug war is
about?” Witnesses came forward to counter the police officers’ claims. On Sept. 9
one of these witnesses, a 13-year-old girl whose father was in jail for drug offenses,
ran to Bishop David’s cathedral, San Roque, pleading for shelter. He took her in.
The police soon followed. They had posted bail for the girl’s father. They wanted
the bishop to bring her into police custody for questioning. Bishop David refused.
He kept the police outside and welcomed the father in. Soon the father decided he,
too, would stay with the bishop. “I love the church,” he was quoted as saying.

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The image of a clergyman holding off the police at the church gates was a powerful
one for the community. It was a significant act of resistance amid growing
opposition to the drug war. The Catholic Church has slowly found its voice against
a campaign of violence that, in President Rodrigo Roa Duterte, known as Rody, has
one of the world’s most ruthless and capricious leaders.

But the Catholic Church in the Philippines has often worked to chart a middle path
between the nation’s leaders and its people. And though critics say it has been slow
to react to a war that, so far, has claimed up to 13,000 lives, some believe it could
play a pivotal role again.

The Church Through History

The Catholic Church has been entangled in politics in the Philippines for almost
five centuries. It was among the biggest colonial imports that arrived with Spanish
conquistadors who, led by Ferdinand Magellan, first washed up on the shores of
Cebu in 1521. Before then most inhabitants of the islands were practitioners of
indigenous traditions, Muslims or atheists.

Under colonial rule, church and state were one, with Spanish friars one important
part of governing the new territory. Catholic churches were built as the centerpieces
of barangays, the country’s smallest civic subdivision (today the Philippines’ 7,641
islands are home to 41,969 barangays). Under the friars Manila became a key
entrepôt between China and Mexico. Trade flourished.

But apartheid between Europeans and indigenous Filipinos grew such that by the
19th century the latter were still obliged to kiss the hand of any passing Spanish
clergyman and were forbidden to break bread at the same table.

By 1896 resentment against the “friarocracy” exploded in a war for independence

that broke out when Jose Rizal, an author and icon, was executed for rebellion,
sedition and conspiracy. Rizal, who is called the George Washington of the
Philippines, was Jesuit-educated and once remarked that he would have joined the
order if he had not become a revolutionary novelist. But his hatred of Spanish friars
and their abuses fueled his influential 1887 novel Noli Me Tángere’ (Touch Me
Not). “I have to believe much in God because I have lost my faith in man,” cries the
protagonist Juan Ibarra. The Katipunan (abbreviated locally as the K.K.K.), a secret,
masonic revolutionary group of which Rizal was a key member, declared war in
Caloocan, just a mile from San Roque. Peace would not return to the islands for
decades.

The Catholic Church has slowly found its voice against a

campaign of violence.
By 1898 Spain had lost almost all of its empire and sold the Philippines to the
United States for $20 million. But by 1902 the Philippines was an American colony.
Sporadic fighting continued, and atrocities were committed on both sides. Amid the
bloodshed a clamor for religious freedom grew. The Philippines won independence
in 1946. But the church’s biggest political stand would arrive much later, under the
dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos, an attorney whose rule from 1965 to 1986 was
marked by brutality and excess.

In 1972, amid insurgencies by Muslim groups on the southern island of Mindanao

and China-backed communists countrywide, Marcos placed the Philippines under
martial law. Civil rights were suspended, the media shut down and Congress closed.
Opposition politicians were detained. Some were tortured. Marcos and his
glamorous wife, Imelda, who amassed a shoe collection so great it now inhabits a
museum, are reckoned to have stolen $10 billion while in office.

The church had been energized by the Second Vatican Council to play a more active
role in lay, grassroots communities. This grassroots work brought clergy and lay
leaders into conflict with the martial law government, though bishops remained
divided on how to engage in “critical collaboration” with Marcos. When Marcos’s
henchmen murdered the opposition leader Benigno Aquino Jr. in 1983, Cardinal
Jaime Sin called on Filipinos to take to the “parliament of the streets.”

On Feb. 7, 1986, amid widespread accusations of fraud, Marcos won a fourth term
in office. Mass protest followed. By Feb. 23 tanks began amassing at military and
police headquarters in Metro Manila. Cardinal Sin took to Radio Veritas, a Catholic
station that broadcast homilies that became a constant thorn in Marcos’s side.
Filipinos arrested during a drug buy-bust operation wait to be taken to a police
station for verification in 2016 at a slum area in Manila. (CNS photo/Francis R.
Malasig, EPA)

“This is Cardinal Sin speaking to the people of Metro Manila,” began a speech that
inspired a coming revolution. “I am calling our people to support our two ‘good
friends’ [the army and the police] at the camp. If any of you could be around at
Camp Aguinaldo to show your solidarity and your support in this very crucial
period when our two good friends have shown their idealism, I would be very
happy.... Please come.” Around 50,000 people then crowded the camps, preventing
the armed forces from leaving.

A two-million-strong, three-day demonstration on Manila’s circuitous Epifanio de

los Santos Avenue (EDSA), one of the city’s main thoroughfares, followed. The
Marcoses fled to Hawaii. Aquino’s widow, Corazon, or “Cory,” was inaugurated as
president on Feb. 25. Rodrigo Duterte, then a 40-year-old law graduate in the city of
Davao on the island of Mindanao, benefited directly from this change. His
appointment to the city’s vice mayorship came directly from Cory Aquino—despite
his admitting to shooting a classmate in college in 1972.

Duterte became mayor of Davao in 1988. He soon earned the nickname “Punisher,”
serving as mayor while “death squads” rumored to have government backing
claimed over 1,000 lives. Duterte himself admitted to killing three alleged rapist-
kidnappers just months into his first term. His ruthlessness is masked by a laconic,
laissez-faire demeanor. He prefers untucked shirts to suits and delivers chilling
statements—such as comparing his drug war to the Holocaust—with all the
insouciance of a Hollywood wiseguy. Unlike Marcos, he is unkempt, uncouth and
often sleeps in small hotel rooms rather than in Manila’s sprawling, Spanish -
colonial presidential palace, Malacañang.

The Catholic Church has been entangled in politics in the

Philippines for almost five centuries.
That everyman image is a key reason Duterte became president last June. The
Philippines is deeply corrupt and economically divided. In 2011, 40 families, most
of whose wealth stems from the Spanish era, reaped 76.5 percent of its GDP
growth. Since the turn of the century, the country has moved 32 places on
Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index, which surveys citizens
on how problematic they consider day-to-day malfeasance to be. The Philippines
moved from 69th to 101st of 176 countries.

Several of those families were represented in the election. But they could not match
Duterte’s savvy brand of social-media populism. Facebook and Twitter were
flooded with pro-Duterte pages and accounts, many of questionable authenticity.
His team flooded the nation with red-and-blue wristbands as well as bumper
stickers emblazoned with Duterte’s punching-fist motif, or the abbreviation
“DU30,” which is pronounced “doo-thirty,” a phonetic echoing of the candidate’s
name.

In a speech announcing his run for president, Duterte attacked Pope Francis, ca lling
him Putang ina—a “son of a whore”—when referring to the pope’s visit to the
Philippines. After assuming office, Duterte’s attacks continued. He went after
Barack Obama, Muslims, China, the European Union and the media. He is ribald
and makes light of rape. Duterte has singled out drugs, particularly shabu, as the
Philippines’ greatest domestic threat. “I have to slaughter these idiots who are
destroying my country,” he said at his inaugural State of the Nation address in July
2016. Duterte estimates the number of drug addicts to be 3.7 million. The country’s
Official Dangerous Drugs Board estimates it to be 1.8 million (Duterte fired the
board's chief last May). He has cut funding to rights groups and dismissed critics as
pedophiles.
Priests concelebrate Mass offered for martial law victims Sept. 21 in Manila,
Philippines.
(CNS photo/Rolex Dela Pena, EPA)

The police have recorded 6,000 deaths under investigation. The Philippine Alliance
of Human Rights Advocates has recorded at least 12,000. Over 100,000 people have
been arrested, and prisons are packed like slave galleons. Duterte has pledged to kill
100,000 “drug personalities.” Duterte is like the movie character Dirty Harry, one
Manila taxi driver told me, holding his fingers up like a gun. “You do something
bad now you have two things: the cemetery and the hospital.”
‘A Normal, Everyday Thing’
I have spent many weeks covering the drug war. In that time I have seen bodies
slumped over vehicles, in ditches, streets and alleyways, amid the tungsten sprawl
of Metro Manila. Police rarely take statements and arrest almost nobody. One night
in August the police killed 32 people in raids north of the capital.

Phrases like “human rights” and “extrajudicial killing” are sprinkled like
shibboleths into everyday conversation. But the violence has become quotidian and
locals are numbed. One evening the family of Ernesto Tapang, known as Brader,
showed me CCTV footage of the moment four men pulled up beside him in a black
S.U.V., got out and shot him dead. The police believe it was a case of mistaken
identity. Nobody has been charged. “It’s like a normal, everyday[thing],” his sister
Emelita said of the killing.

Duterte has strangled political opposition. His most vocal critic, Senator Leila de
Lima, the former justice secretary, is currently detained on suspicion of corruption
charges. “You can count with your ten fingers those who are readily vocal and call
out Duterte’s actions and words every day,” she told me by email. “With a civil
society like this, you think anyone has any business complaining that the church is
not doing more?”

The Philippines is among Asia’s most Christian nations. Today 80.6 percent of the
population (74.2 million Filipinos) are Catholic. The Philippines is home to the
world’s third-largest Catholic population, behind Brazil and Mexico (and just above
the United States). Ninety-five percent of Filipino Catholics say they view Pope
Francis favorably. How could a candidate who pilloried the pontiff make it into
office?
One night in August the police killed 32 people in raids north
of the capital.

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As Duterte’s presidential campaign gathered pace, Catholic officials across the

Philippines voiced concerns about his human rights record. Archbishop Antonio
Ledesma of Cagayan de Oro, a city in Mindanao, wrote that summary killings were
“illegal, immoral and sinful.” The Bishops-Businessmen’s Conference (B.B.C.), a
lay-clergy social justice coalition, wrote that it could not “vote for anyone who has
done nothing to apprehend the perpetrators of more than 1,400 extrajudicial killings
under his city administration.”

Archbishop Socrates Villegas, president of The Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the

Philippines (C.B.C.P.), promised “vigilant collaboration” with the incoming
administration, echoing the “critical collaboration” Sin promised under Marcos.
Villegas refused to push back harder, writing that “Mine is the silence of respect for
those who consider us their enemies but whose good we truly pray for and whose
happiness we want to see unfold.” Three bishops, from Cubao and Puerto Princesa,
praised Duterte’s “simplicity.”

The B.B.C. offered implicit support for the outsider’s popularity, noting that “our
country has a long history of failed development because we have repeatedly voted
corrupt politicians and political dynasties into office.”

Many other priests openly voted for Duterte, enthusiastic because of promises to
restore social order and left-wing policies that chimed with church commitments,
made during the C.B.C.P.’s second plenary council in 1991, to confront the dismal
realities of poverty in the Philippines. Many of the flock followed suit: Duterte took
38 percent of a national poll, in which a historic 81.62 percent of the electorate
voted (the U.S. presidential election in 2016, by contrast, drew just 58 percent of
the electorate).

“From the moment Duterte stepped into the office he started

firing at the church, putting it on the defensive.”

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The church, too, faced its own problems. Cardinal Sin led another bloodless
revolution, against President Joseph Estrada, in 2001, orchestrating a second march
along EDSA to protest Estrada’s financial mismanagement. But the cardinal died in
2005. And in the years leading to Duterte’s ascent the church was weakened by a
spate of scandals and cover-ups. In 2013 a book called Altar of Secrets, by the
investigative journalist Aries Rufo, exposed many of them. Sex crimes were hushed.
A church-owned bank went bankrupt. RadioVeritas failed to account for donations.
Prelates drove around in expensive Mitsubishi Pajero S.U.V.s . Many saw this as a
sign not just of extravagance, but of the church’s tolerance for the deeply corrupt
government of Gloria Arroyo. They were perceived to have taken the S.U.V.s in
exchange for silence in criticizing a political ally. The Catholic Church was losing
its common touch.

Duterte has aimed jabs at each weakness. “Go straight to God,” he told supporters
last February. “Don’t go through the confessional.” Duterte has offered to write a
book about the church, entitled Hypocrisy. He has called its leaders “full of shit.”
More damaging have been accusations that Duterte himself was abused by an
American Jesuit priest as a teenager. “You criticize the police, you criticize me,” he
told the clergy, during a January 2017 speech. “For what? You have the money.
You are all crazy...when we were making confessions to you, we were being
molested. They are touching us. What is your moral ascendancy: religion? What is
the meaning of it?”

“From the moment Duterte stepped into the office he started firing at the church,
putting it on the defensive,” Carlos Conde, a researcher at Human Rights Watch
who specializes in the Philippines, told me. “And it worked.” Few members of the
clergy offered vigorous rebukes in the early weeks of Duterte’s leadership. He has
also attempted to rehabilitate Marcos, whose family supported his candidacy. And
Duterte has even successfully lobbied to have Ferdinand Sr. buried in Metro
Manila’s Heroes’ Cemetery. Many fear the moves are an attempt to validate and
repeat Marcos’s enactment of martial law, something Duterte has already done
across Mindanao in the wake of an ISIS-inspired siege in the Islamic city of Marawi
this May. It is still in effect.

“Stop the killing and start the healing. Instead of accusing

[SUDs] roughly and harshly, try to understand them and start
healing them.”

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Last September, I visited Manila’s iconic Miranda Square to witness a clergy -led
protest against martial law. The chant Buhay Na May Dignidad Para Sa Lahat—
“Life With Dignity for All People”—was repeated between prayers and hymns.
#NeverAgain trended on Twitter. “There are people who are anti-Marcos and pro-
Duterte,” the writer Clara Balaguer told me. “That’s insane. What you’re seeing
now is history repeating itself, and all the steps are being put into place for martial
law to be declared in everything but name.”
History may have been repeating itself in Malacañang. But it was also doing so at
the pulpit. The rally was small: I estimated it at around 2,000, with plenty of
Duterte supporters standing on its perimeter. But the church was finding its voice
against Duterte. In the year since the rally, it has gotten far louder.

‘We Decided to Do Something to Help the Person’

In a small room of the St. Francis of Assisi and Santa Quiteria Parish, in Caloocan,
about 50 parishioners are gathered, sitting on plastic chairs. Religious and local
council leaders address them from a raised platform. Noodles and bottled water are
served. Fans beat back a numbing, midday heat.

It is the first day of Santa Quiteria’s drug rehabilitation program, which welcomed
the fourth cohort of participants since December last year. Healing and victimhood
are key tenets; attendees are “substance use disorder” victims, or SUDs, not addicts.
Around 30 people will begin the program. Two-thirds will probably complete it. It
is a far cry from the government’s attempts at rehab, which consist of enrolling
suspected users—those who avoid death—in zumba classes.

In a room above the event, two priests, Edgar Guantero and George Alfonso, outline
their separate visions to me over coffee and cake. They are careful not to over -
criticize the government or the new president. Speaking ill of the pope is Duterte’s
“discretion,” Father Alfonso, who is loud and loquacious, says wryly. But Father
Alfonso cannot hide the fact that their view of the drug problem is very different
from Duterte’s.
“We are not denying that drugs are a problem in our society,” says the soft-spoken
Father Guantero. “But instead of acting about the war against them, we decided to
do something to help the person.”
Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte announces the disbandment of police
operations against illegal drugs Jan. 30 in Manila. (CNS photo/Ezra Acayan,
Reuters)
The work at Santa Quiteria, he says, mirrors the local devotion of Salubong, the
meeting between the risen Christ and Mary. “We are trying to not really divert but
give an alternative to our government,” says Alfonso. “Stop the killing and start the
healing. Instead of accusing [SUDs] roughly and harshly, try to understand them
and start healing them.”

Bishop David’s stand during Kian’s case appears to have marked a step from church
statements to physical action. It is part of a wider movement against the drug war’s
rising body count. On Sept. 8, Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle of Manila issued a
statement condemning the killing, writing: “With pain and horror, we continue to
get daily news of the killings around the country. We cannot allow the destruction
of lives to become normal. We cannot govern the nation by killing. We cannot
foster a humane and decent Filipino culture by killing.” A week later Cardinal Tagle
ordered that church bells should toll for 15 minutes each evening across the capital,
through Nov. 27, 2017.

“The brutal murder of Kian delos Santos and other minor victims has galvanized an
increasingly organized opposition to the president, but it is unlikely to deter the
president from employing draconian measures in his anti-drug campaign,” the
author Richard Heydarian, who has chronicled Duterte’s rise to power, told me.
“This is not only due to the fact that Duterte’s raison d’état and raison d’être seem
to be the elimination of drug personalities, but also the fact that institutional checks
and balances remain largely in hibernation mode.”
The bishops conference maintained its “vigilant collaboration” until this January,
when President Villegas issued a statement decrying the war’s “reign of terror” in
poor communities. While drug trafficking needed to be “stopped and
overcome…the solution does not lie in the killing of suspected drug users and
pushers,” he added.

Finding a consistent voice across denominational and political lines has been
difficult. One group doing so is Rise Up, an umbrella body of nongovernmental
organizations across Metro Manila. Its wood-paneled office sits above a church
beside EDSA, the site of Marcos’s ouster. When I visited, the roof was leaking and
only four people were there. But it is grassroots society, not watertight roofing, that
will turn the tide of public opinion against the drug war, according to Norma
Dollaga, who is also a Methodist deacon: “The government calls illegal drugs
criminality, but we see it as a social issue…. Most of those we visit are from poor
communities.”

According to a survey in September 2017, three out of five

Filipinos believe only the poor are killed in the drug war.

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Duterte himself has admitted as much, calling the deaths of poor Filipinos a
necessary step in dismantling the drug trade “apparatus.” According to a survey in
September 2017, three out of five Filipinos believe only the poor are killed in the
drug war. Almost half of those questioned believe the police are killing innocent
people. With Duterte’s stranglehold on the legislature, the fightback against the war
on drugs will not be carried out in Congress but on the streets. That is where the
church is most able to influence its flock, through small, basic ecclesial
communities that have formed an increasingly fundamental part of the Philippine
church’s structure since its first plenary council in 1953.

An added obstacle may be the initiative Mamamayang Ayaw sa Anomalya,

Mamamayang Ayaw sa Ilegal na Droga (“Citizens don’t want the anomaly; people
don’t want illegal drugs”). Commonly known as MASA MASID, it is a government
initiative that aims to root out drug crime in the poorest communities in the
Philippines.

Some have likened the movement to a simple neighborhood watch, where citizens
are encouraged to be alert to crime. But others have voiced concern over the use of
MASA MASID drop boxes, in which locals can write the names of those they
suspect to be associated with drugs. Those on the lists can be caught up
in Tokhang (“knock-and-plead”) police raids. Many are killed while resisting. “Any
person in our country, any citizen, his or her name could come out in any watchlist
because the war on drugs...does not require evidence, it simply requires names,”
said a leading lawyer, Jose Manuel Diokno.

If the church’s grassroots campaigning grows, it will find itself in direct opposition
to MASA MASID, Conde told me. “If the Duterte administration makes good use of
MASA MASID...a lot more people are going to die,” he said. Catholic leaders have
already been threatened. Father Alfonso and Father Guantero told me many of their
congregation have grown afraid to be associated with the church. “Attacks on
church people and lay workers will increase, and it can be threats, harassment, God
forbid more killings,” added Conde. “I’m not saying that’s happening now. But we
should be watchful for that.”
Whatever happens, there has undoubtedly been a shift in how many Filipinos view
their president and his drug war. And, as the sands of opinion shift a little, the
church is getting right back out on the frontline—just as it did in 1986.

“The sheer number of killings during martial law will pale in comparison with the
records of killings in the war on drugs,” Edwin A. Gariguez, of Caritas Philippines,
told me. “And the authoritarian rule of Duterte is beginning to become even worse
than the martial law of Marcos, which he tried to disguise through some semblance
[of] legality. Duterte is more brazen, unreasonably vindictive, with little or no
regard for accountability.”

I left Manila on Sept. 21, the 45th anniversary of the date Marcos first invoked
martial law in 1972. That day the streets were lined with thousands of protesters
who had gathered to warn about a return to the most repressive years of the Marcos
dictatorship. The chances Duterte would make good on threats to re-enact them
seemed far greater than they were the previous year. “We have only martial law in
Mindanao, but the murders are all-over more than 13,000 now since last year,” said
Archbishop Villegas that night from a pulpit three hours north of the capital.
“Killing the poor and the poorest is the only solution they know to stop crime. Fake
news abounds and liars succeed to mislead and confuse.”

“We must stand up for the real Filipino,” he added. “We are honorable. We are
respectful. We are pro-life. We are honest. We are brave. We are losing our national
soul to the Father of Lies and Prince of Darkness.”
My taxi crawled through the Manila traffic, and I could see protesters holding out
religious placards and hand-painted psalms. As the sun set across Manila’s smog-
filled skyline, they held lighted candles.

This article also appeared in print, under the headline “Waging Peace in the
Philippines,” in the February 5, 2018 , issue.

Philippine church leaders

feel powerless to stop
extrajudicial killings
Aug 11, 2016

by Catholic News Service

World
Filipinos carry the coffin of an alleged drug dealer at Manila North Cemetery Aug. 7. Catholic leaders say they
are powerless to stop a growing number of extrajudicial killings in the Philippines that have come with Duterte's
war on drugs. (CNS photo/Francis R. Malasig, EPA)

MANILA, PHILIPPINES — Philippine Catholic leaders say they are powerless to stop a
growing number of extrajudicial killings that have come with President Rodrigo Duterte's
war on drugs.

"What I predicted is happening, and the church is powerless to stop the killings,"
Redemptorist Fr. Amado Picardal, head of the Philippine bishops' Commission for Basic
Ecclesial Communities, told ucanews.com. He said the killings are "already unstoppable,"
adding that some church leaders are losing hope.

Picardal, who has linked the president to a death squad allegedly responsible for the killings
of more than 1,400 people, warned of "dark prospects" for the Philippines following
Duterte's election in May.

During his campaign for the presidency, Duterte vowed to stop criminality, especially the
illegal drugs trade, and corruption in the first six months of his term, warning that his
administration would be a "bloody" one. Ucanews.com reported estimates of more than 600
people killed since Duterte was elected in May; 211 of those were murdered by unidentified
gunmen.

Archbishop Socrates Villegas of Lingayen-Dagupan, president of the bishops' conference,

appealed to Filipinos' sense of humanity amid the killings. He said he was "in utter disbelief,"
adding that the killings "are too much to swallow."

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"There is a little voice of humanity in us that I believe is disturbed by the killings," the
archbishop said in a statement read in churches in his archdiocese in early August. He said
the "voice of disturbed humanity is drowned out by the louder voice of revenge or silenced
by the sweet privileges of political clout."

"In our dream to wipe out drug addiction, are we not becoming a 'killing fields' nation?" he
asked.

"I don't have to be a bishop to say this. I do not have to be a Catholic to be disturbed by the
killings that jar us every time we hear or watch or read the news," Villegas said.

"From a generation of drug addicts, shall we become a generation of street murderers? (Can)
the do-it-yourself justice system assure us of a safer and better future?" he said.

After three drug suspects were found murdered in the city of Tacloban in early August, Fr.
Virgilio Canete of Palo archdiocese said the killings are "out of control."

The victims, two of them women, were shot several times. A crude sign that said "I am a
pusher, Lord I am sorry" was placed next to the bodies.

On Aug. 3, six people linked to a drug syndicate were killed in a police operation in the small
town of Albuera in Leyte province.

"Only the police and the president can stop the killings by declaring a moratorium," said
Canete.

"The church cannot do anything now," said the priest. "It had already warned of the
consequences. Only those who started these bloodbaths can stop it."
EXTRAJUDICIAL KILLINGS: THE
CHURCH CONFRONTS THE STATE IN
THE PHILIPPINES
JULY 28, 2019 ROMEO HONTIVEROS

EXTRAJUDICIAL KILLINGS: The Church

Confronts the State in the Philippines
BY DANNY PILARIO·FRIDAY, JULY 26, 2019·

Delivered at De La Salle University in the International Conference on Theology and Religion:

Church and State Relations on July 26, 2019

Introduction
Like many of you, I am an academic who teaches on weekdays, check papers, guide students on their
thesis, write articles, do administrative work, and many other boring tasks which you also do. But on
weekends, I help my companion-priests in our parish in Payatas around the biggest garbage dump in
Metro Manila. I have been assisting them since 2002.

There are a lot of problems in this dumpsite parish, to name a few, urban waste management,
sustainable housing, internal migration, health and many others. But since June 2016, we have met
one of the greatest challenges of this community – the phenomenon of extrajudicial killings. Our
small parish already had more than a hundred people killed from July 2016 up to some few months
ago.

I will present a short documentary that my filmmaker-friend, Ditsi Carolino, was able to capture. She
heard about the killings in Payatas and asked if she could come with me one Sunday. This is her film.

The documentary was taken at the height of killings in Payatas, in Novaliches and Caloocan around
December of 2016. But the killings continue up to 2018 before it moved to other places like Bulacan,
Nueva Ecija, Cebu, now to Negros and other places.

On the one hand, the Church on the ground always provided resistance. Just last week, The
Guardian came out with the headline which goes: “Catholic Rebels Resist Philippine War on Drugs”.
Days after the government sued these leading church activists – clergy, bishops – together with the
defeated opposition party. On the other hand, many Churches also support the War on Drugs saying
that Duterte is “God sent” in order to cure the ills of this society.

This ambivalent relationship between Church and State is not new in the history of church and
politics worldwide. There is a myriad of models on how this relationship is played out in concrete
circumstances. First, there are many forms of “theocratic politics” – a fusion of church and political
society in its medieval and contemporary forms. Second, there is the notion of “separation” of Church
and State which tries to correct the shortcomings of the former. Third, there is the acknowledged role
of religions in the public sphere.

I will try to narrate these relationships here not as past history but as presently enacted in the context
of the War on Drugs of this present administration.

Theocratic Politics: The Fusion of Religion and Politics

The extreme form of theocratic politics is found in religious fundamentalist States which believes that
they can speak in the name of God, directly revealing God’s laws to society, without the benefit of
any mediation. I do not refer to medieval Caesaro-papist regimes where the king is consecrated by the
Pope or the bishop is chosen by the king.

Contemporary parallels abound, for example, the Taliban movements, ISIS or the Patriotic Church in
Communist China where religion is servile to the ends of the State. Freedom of speech or freedom to
express one’s belief is not the strongest feature of this model.

More moderate versions also exist. The right wing Catholic and royalist “integral nationalism” of
Charles Maurras and L’Action française (1898 – early 1926) in France is one example. It was not
only anti-Semitic but also reactionary to the French revolutionary ideals of liberté, égalité,
and fraternité. Another version is John Milbank’s contemporary theological proposal to recover
medieval Christendom in postmodern contexts. Milbank proposes Augustine’s City of God to become
the only Christian metanarrative without need of mediation from other sectors and sciences.

These social forms envision a monolithic political body where submission to God and, consequently,
to the King is the rule of the game, with the intention of deleting any possible conflict within the
social body.

But that is the ideal. The reality on the ground is quite different.

Let me give a dramatic – if not funny and absurd – example from medieval Philippine history under
the Patronato Real. One such area of tension is on ecclesiastical appointments of bishops which
governors-general would claim power to approve or revoke. For example, the governor Sebastián
Hurtado de Corcuera (1634-1639) demanded that Hernando Guerrero, then the Archbishop of Manila,
submit to this policy. When the latter refused, Governor Corcuera ordered that Archbishop Guerrero
be arrested. The soldiers came to implement the order but the Archbishop prevented them to touch
him by holding the monstrance with the Blessed Sacrament in it as his shield. The soldiers had to wait
for hours until he became tired and had to let go of the monstrance. The Archbishop was later exiled
to the island of Corregidor off Manila. But before leaving, he placed the whole city under interdict.
This means that no Masses can be said, no other sacraments can be celebrated, no funerals can be
done, until the interdict was lifted. The governor had to give in to the pressure from the people and
released the Archbishop in less than a week’s time.

In short, theocracy is not monolithic. Under the so-called “God’s reign” are free individual human
beings – both agents and victims of power, exercising both control and resistance.
In the so-called Philippine “War on Drugs”, many Churches defend Duterte’s program as God’s
mission placing their whole congregations in the service of the Duterte regime. In a research on the
Church’s response to EJK in Payatas, the Filipino sociologist, Jayeel Cornelio argues that majority of
Christian leaders, pastors, and priests think of drug addicts as “sinners”, thus, according to one pastor
“God needed to appoint Duterte in order to get Filipinos to repent”. Consequently, they approve of his
violent ways to “clean” this country. Biblical passages are summoned to support this violent theo-
political position: the need to cut one’s arms or pluck one’s eyes if these cause you to sin (Mt. 5:30);
or the need to obey the authorities that God has placed over us (Romans 13).

But I argue that these churches are not monolithic bodies. People are slowly realizing that Duterte
was a bad choice. Slowly. But it was also like this during the Martial Law. It took us around 15 years
to realize that Marcos was not a good choice after all. There are now “cracks in the iron curtain”, to
borrow a term from the Cold War.

“Separation of Church and State” and Its Discontents

In reaction to medieval theocratic politics, modern mind instituted the “separation of church and
state”. No, let me correct myself. The separation model is in fact not a modern creation. It was
already present in Augustine’s distinction between civitas terrena (earthly city) and civitas Dei (city
of God) – founded as it is on the Aristotelian anthropology on the separation of body and soul or,
even earlier, on the preeminence of the soul over the body in Plato.

Its contemporary forms can be discerned in Benedict XVI’s distinction between two realms, that is,
the State’s duty is to ensure justice and the Church’s responsibility is to practice charity. Such a
distinction finds its ally in popular versions of the same thinking: the Church should not get involved
in politics; it should only take care of the soul.

President Duterte’s spokesman, Panelo, exploited this view when he explained Duterte’s anger to the
point of mugging or killing bishops. To mitigate the command, Panelo said: “What Duterte is saying
is, the Church, you’re supposed to be in the spiritual side. Huwag na ‘yung governance ng gobyerno
kasi you’re questioning the method by which this President is doing his duty.”

The President and his government always go back to the “separation of the Church and State” as their
refuge.

Let me try to unpack this principle. Let me go back to some basic texts which have been lost in the
noisy and confused rhetoric aimed to drown its real meaning.

If anything, the separation of Church and State is an inviolable Constitutional injunction to the State,
not to the Church (Art. II, Sec. 6). First, the State shall not pass laws establishing any religion (Art.
III, Sec. 5). Second, the State shall not pass laws prohibiting the free exercise of any religion (Art III,
Sec. 5). These two points are referred to as the “non-establishment clause” and the “free exercise
clause”.

In short, only the State can violate it, not the Church or any church personnel. When Duterte and his
government criticize the Church for violating the separation of Church and State, such criticisms are
pointed at wrong directions. On the contrary, it is the role of all citizens, including the Church and its
members, to call out the State authorities when they favor one religious group over another or prohibit
some religions the free exercise of their beliefs.

Consequently, any Church leader or personnel (bishops, clergy, religious or lay) has the right and
duty to participate in the discussions of how this country should be run. It is incumbent upon them as
citizens of the country. Moreover, when their religion commands them to denounce injustice, to
condemn the violation of human rights, to protect human lives, to defend vulnerable citizens, to take
responsibility for society, such duties are covered by the “free exercise” of one’s religion, thus,
should be respected by the State. Since it is part of one’s religious duty, they can do it on the pulpit.
Where else? They shall do it among their faithful in communities, on the streets, but on the pulpits in
their churches, too! And the Constitution surely protects such right.

Now that the Catholic Church criticizes this administration for disregarding human rights and not
protecting its citizens, the whole government machinery is up in arms against it. Church workers
critical of the government are intimidated, harassed, imprisoned or killed. But when Quiboloy – the
self-proclaimed “appointed son of God” – showers big gifts on the President or asked that he be
consulted on Cabinet’s appointments, Duterte does not cry foul. If the “separation of the Church and
State” is absolute, the President should be as angry! But no, he visits him to appease his misgivings.

Thus, it is not about principles after all. It is all about power and control.

Church and State: Critical Engagement in the Public Sphere

Beyond the “separation” model is religion’s critical engagement with the State in the public sphere. In
a decidedly modern move, the German philosopher Jurgen Habermas argued for secular
communicative reason to rule the public sphere instead of the sectarianism (and sometimes the
irrationality and fanaticism) of religious and national sentiments.

In Habermas’ earlier works, religions were sidelined and relegated to the private – in consonance with
the first versions of modern secularization theories.

In later works, however, Habermas revised his position. He now argues for a dialogue between
secular reason and religions in the public sphere, recognizing that both religious and secular
mentalities can help in the building of a more humane society. The public sphere now becomes an
infinitely open space where all voices can be accepted, heard and critiqued through reasoned
discourse. While the State is characterized by its use of coercive means (and so was medieval
religion), the modern “public sphere” becomes the new agora of rational deliberation.

For this dialogue to happen, religious citizens should be able to accept the natural conditions of
modern society, e.g., pluralism, rule of law, autonomy of sciences, and others. Believers should also
be able to translate their religious language into understandable secular idioms that can resonate with
other worldviews in the public sphere. For example, translating the CST language into human rights
discourse; or, “charity” and “preferential option for the poor” into UN Sustainable Development
Goals, etc.

The secularists, for their part, also need to acknowledge that religions possess some truths and such
contributions are valid avenues for social emancipation. This complementary learning process frees
people from their religious and cultural closed universes so that all citizens “mutually recognize one
another in civil society as members of one and the same political community.” This is the Christian
challenge of public theology, of Church engagement of the State.

However, the picture of the public sphere that Habermas paints is the ideal. In the Philippines today,
such a space does not exist; or if it does, in a very little margin. Ironically, it is the modern Philippine
State that does not accept modern values like pluralism, rule of law, autonomy of spheres, the force of
the better argument, etc. What we have is a rule of coercion, eradication, annihilation.

This government is not only paternalistic. People call its President “Tatay”. It has also become
monarchial. We are almost back to medieval theocracy – only that the President has occupied the
place of God as king!

What are the Church’s options today?

I suggest a crucial word for our times – #RESIST!
First, resist in the open democratic spaces which are still available for rational deliberation. These
spaces are getting smaller and smaller each day. Reason, rule of law and human rights are not favorite
values of the times; violence, force and impunity are. But where they exist, we need to engage.

Second, if we have reached the end of the rope, resist through civil disobedience. There is a meme
being shared a thousand times on Facebook these days. It comes from Mahatma Gandhi: “Civil
disobedience becomes a sacred duty when the State has become lawless and corrupt.”

I shared it too on my timeline and commented: “So what is the problem with sedition?” If this
government is killing its citizens or does not lift a finger to solve these killings, then it has lost its
mandate to govern. As Martin Luther King once said: “I became convinced that noncooperation with
evil is as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good.” So, we can ask, what is wrong with
sedition?

Third, like the first Christians persecuted by the machinery of Imperial Rome, resist by honoring the
martyrs, by counting them and giving them names, by locating where they are thrown or buried, by
documenting their deaths, by telling their stories. A martyr is “one who bears witness” to the point of
death. While Roman authorities defiled their names as criminals, lawbreakers and subversives, the
early Christians honored them as those who ultimately paid the price for their faith. We have more
than 30,000 new martyrs in our midst. A new theology of martyrdom, a new martyrology for our
times is an also act of resistance.

Fourth, resist through a new kind of “apologetics”. Tertullian and the first Christian leaders joined the
agora to convince the rest of the world on the reasonableness of the Christian faith that they have
embraced. In Duterte’s Philippines, apologetics does not primarily mean a defense of Catholic
orthodoxy but of orthopraxis – a defense of human dignity, human rights, human lives; a defense of
the liberation and well-being that Jesus brings. We need to break the culture of silence that pervades
this society, counter the fake news and lies this government spreads, explain our positions and
 options, promote common discernment on social issues in our churches, in our organizations, in our
Basic Ecclesial Communities, in our classrooms, in social media, in public spaces, everywhere.

Fifth, resist by taking care of the victims’ survivors – their families, the widows and orphans. They
are the witnesses. No matter how much the State denies extrajudicial killings in its official
propaganda, their survival disproves that denial. In fact, the government is so afraid of them; it wants
them silenced, lost, annihilated, too. For many mothers and children saw with their own eyes what
really happened to their loved ones. And when better times have come, these witness shall speak.
Otherwise, “the stones will cry out,” as the bible tells us.

I will never forget what Lola Remy told me after Juan’s funeral. In the documentary, she is the 85
year-old mother of Juan who needed to take care of his seven children because their mother was also
imprisoned). She said: “Father, they want us to die. No, we will live!”

In the end, among the victims, even survival is an act of resistance.

Lola Remy with her seven grandchildren.

For the story of Remy and her grandchildren,

see: https://www.rappler.com/newsbreak/investigative/188904-impunity-series-police-killings-
quezon-city-ejk

Read the source: https://www.facebook.com/notes/danny-pilario/extrajudicial-killings-the-

church-confronts-the-state-in-the-philippines/10157446976989700/
Related articles/ Videos click below:

Bishop: Pray Oratio Imperata to end ‘extrajudicial killings’

Bishop Julito B. Cortes of the Diocese of Dumaguete has urged the faithful to take an active stand
against extrajudicial killings in Negros Oriental and pray the Oratio Imperata, a special obligatory prayer
he had written specifically for this purpose.

Bishop Cortes officially released and led the praying of the Oratio Imperata (Latin for Obligatory Prayer)
in the Diocese of Dumaguete during the concelebrated Mass at the St. Catherine of Alexandria Cathedral
in Dumaguete City during the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of Mary on Tuesday.
The Oratio Imperata, to be read in more than 40 parishes, chaplaincies and mission areas in the diocese,
to include those in nearby Siquijor province, was drawn up, alongside a pastoral letter, to engage the
public in supporting the campaign against illegal drugs.

Cortes, in his homily during Tuesday’s mass, reiterated that the unresolved killings in Dumaguete are
largely blamed on the illegal drugs trade.

He pointed out that 39 killings were reported last year and 37 as of October this year. The bishop had
earlier described the spate of killings in the province as “alarming”.

Mayor Manuel Sagarbarria, who was invited to the mass but who failed to come due to another
appointment, had told Bishop Cortes previously that at least 95 percent of all the shooting incidents
were drug-related.

Among those who attended the Mass was Vice President Jejomar Binay who was on the second day of
his four-day visit in Negros Oriental that would end Thursday.

Binay, the presidential standard bearer of the United Nationalist Alliance, and some members of his
senatorial slate, had paid a courtesy call on Bishop Cortes early Tuesday morning.

Bishop Cortes said Vice President Binay had asked to attend the mass, considering it was a holy day of
obligation in celebration of the Solemnization of the Immaculate Conception.

The Dumaguete prelate said Binay shared some of his sentiments on issues hurled against him during
the casual talk that lasted for about ten minutes.
Meanwhile, Vice President Binay announced at a news conference at a different venue following the
mass that if elected president next year, he would designate his running mate, Sen. Gregorio Honasan as
“crime czar” whose military background would make him qualified to address crimes, especially the
illegal drugs trade, in the country.

On extrajudicial killings, Binay stressed no one has the right to take another person’s life. He went on to
say he does not believe in the death penalty.

The Vice President lauded Bishop Cortes, who he said he met for the first time, as being an “intellectual”
and for leading the special prayer to end extrajudicial killings.

The Oratio Imperata calls on the faithful to respect, protect and preserve life while.

It highlights the unsolved killings, mostly related to the illegal drug trade, which has placed the people
“in the face of this evil”.

The Oratio Imperata is meant to pray for the victims and families that they may experience love and find
comfort in God’s compassion and in the promise of eternal life.

“We pray for those involved in the illegal drug trade, the drug traffickers and their coddlers, the hired
killers and drug users that they may experience a deep conversion of hearts, be drawn back to and
recover their basic goodness,” the Oratio Imperata read.
The prayer also implored on the law enforcement authorities to uphold with integrity the rule of law
and promote justice while calling on church and government leaders and other sectors of society “rise
above indifference and actively collaborate efforts in political vigilance, civic education, virtue formation
and moral ascendancy toward common good and a happy life”. (PNA/JFP)

_____________________________________

Oratio Imperata to End Extrajudicial Killings in The Diocese of Dumaguete:

Heavenly Father, in Your great love

You created us in Your image and likeness, and blessed us with the gift of life which we are to respect,
protect, and preserve.

Yet, due to the darkness of sin, human dignity is, at times violated, and a person’s fundamental right to
life is desecrated.

Compassionate Lord, we are deeply saddened by the extrajudicial killings in our towns and cities, mostly
unsolved and drug-related.

We, as Your people, are helpless in the face of this evil.

With Your grace, come to our aid!

By your power, put an end to these killings!

We pray for the victims and their families that they may experience love, and find comfort in Your
compassion, and in the promise of eternal life.
We pray for those involved in the illegal drug trade, the drug traffickers, and their coddlers, the hired
killers, and drug users, that they may experience a deep conversion of hearts, be drawn back to, and
recover their basic goodness.

We pray for the guardian of social order and law enforcement authorities that they may continue to
uphold with integrity the rule of law and promote justice.

We pray for all our Church and government leaders and all sectors of society, that they may rise above
indifference and actively collaborate efforts in political vigilance, civic education, virtue formation, and
moral ascendancy toward the common good and a happy life.

Strengthen, O Lord, our families that they may truly be cradles of love and sanctuaries of life.

We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son who lives and reigns with You in the unity of the
Holy Spirit, one God forever and ever. Amen.

Mary, Mother of Life, intercede for us.

The Catholic Faith and Drug and Alcohol Rehab

Addiction cuts across all demographics, and similar to people of any religion,
even the most devout of Catholics can fall victim to addiction. In Catholicism,
addiction is viewed as a direct threat to both a person’s physical body and his
or her spiritual pathway into the kingdom of heaven. The Catholic Church has
taken a firm stance against substance abuse, in all forms, for centuries.
However, the Church also understands that people make mistakes and knows
addiction is a disease that can’t simply be prayed away. If a parish member
falls victim to addiction, the Catholic Church provides resources to aid the way
back to sobriety, including directly providing drug and alcohol rehab.
 There are now countless Catholic-
based addiction treatment centers that are directly affiliated with the Church
and Church agencies across the U.S. If an individual wants true healing, there
has to be a deeper truth involved. Sin has to be acknowledged in order to
receive the curative aspects of the faith, and although this may be hard, the
acknowledgement of wrong doing sets the mind and body free so that a
person can fully heal from addiction.

The Church believes that anyone can overcome addiction by attending the
proper recovery program and dedicating themselves to a sober Catholic
sacramental life. In addition to rehabilitating members by way
of detox and individualized therapies, Catholic addiction treatment programs
integrate facets of religion to find the root cause of addiction and strengthen
members’ relationships with God.

Types of Catholic Drug and Alcohol Rehab

There are many types of Catholic addiction treatment programs available for
those seeking help, including private and luxury
rehabs, inpatient and outpatient facilities, and local parish support groups.
There are several components to each type of program, but all focus on the
belief in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit as the primary basis for
recovery from addiction. The Church considers addiction to be both a sin and
disease that can only be overcome with the invocation of prayers, scripture,
and a strong belief in the Holy Trinity.

The elements found in these Church-affiliated programs are similar to those of

other non-denominational addiction treatment and recovery programs, but
also include the following religious aspects:

 12-Step programs that are faith-based

 Bible study sessions and related scriptural teachings
 Daily prayer and reflection sessions
  Lectures and sermons that discuss addiction in terms of the Catholic
faith
 Ministerial and pastoral counseling
 Attendance of regular church services

It’s important to note that in addition to faith-based techniques, the Catholic

Church also recognizes the importance of evidence-based methodologies and
includes these in drug and alcohol rehab as well. Catholic addiction treatment
then incorporates core religious tenants like atonement and worship in
addition to evidenced-based practices such as detoxification and counseling.

Benefits of Catholic Addiction Treatment

The primary benefit of this type of addiction treatment is that it enhances the
recovery process by incorporating Catholic faith perspectives, which have
proven to reduce relapse rates. The following benefits all provide clients with
opportunities to grow in faith and knowledge of God’s word:

 Catholic-based drug rehabilitation therapies

 Support through 12-step, self-discovery, and self-inventory therapies
 Targeted holistic therapies with a focus on mindfulness and self
 Communal spiritual and pastoral support post-treatment

Catholic rehab programs rely heavily on communication; communication with

others who are addicted, with family and loved ones, and with counselors and
clergy. Catholic priests, theologians, and healthcare providers all play an
important role in this religion-based addiction treatment.

References:

https://www.americamagazine.org/politics-society/2018/01/25/how-catholic-church-fighting-drug-
war-philippines

https://www.ncronline.org/news/world/philippine-church-leaders-feel-powerless-stop-
extrajudicial-killings

http://dumaguetemetropost.com/bishop-pray-oratio-imperata-to-end-extrajudicial-killings-p6728-
639.htm

https://www.ddb.gov.ph/sidebar/301-community-based-treatment-and-rehabilitation-resources

https://www.addictioncenter.com/treatment/faith-based-drug-and-alcohol-rehab/catholic/