NOTE: UPLOADING FOR A FRIEND
Introduction: Duterte and the Challenge of Reason
In the grand spectrum of belief systems, Deism often stands at the quiet edge—unassuming, rational, and resolutely independent. It does not demand worship in temples or obedience to dogmas. Instead, it invites individuals to engage with the divine through reason, conscience, and the natural world. Deism reveres not miracles, but the miracle of thought; not sacred texts, but the sacredness of moral clarity. In an age where noise often substitutes for insight, Deism offers a calm, critical lens through which to view the world—and perhaps, our leaders.
This book begins with an unusual premise: to examine Rodrigo Duterte, the Philippines’ 16th president, through that lens.
Why Deism? And why Duterte?
Deism may seem foreign in a nation steeped in centuries of Catholic tradition. But its spirit lives quietly in the country’s intellectual past—in the works of José Rizal, Apolinario Mabini, and Graciano López Jaena. These thinkers resisted blind faith and clerical tyranny not out of atheism, but out of reverence for conscience and truth. They upheld the Enlightenment ideal that reason is divine, and that freedom of thought is essential to national dignity.
Rodrigo Duterte did not walk in their philosophical footsteps. He is not a Deist in any academic sense. But his rhetoric, choices, and confrontations with institutional religion raise an intriguing question: was there—beneath the profanity, populism, and paradox—a flicker of Deistic intuition? Did Duterte, in his own brash and broken way, express a yearning for moral clarity outside the bounds of traditional religion?
This book does not seek to canonize Duterte as a misunderstood prophet, nor to condemn him as a tyrant cloaked in populist garb. It attempts something both simpler and harder: to understand him without illusion.
What do we make of a leader who rejects clerical power but replaces it with brute will? Who denounces hypocrisy yet often contradicts himself? Who curses God, yet speaks of conscience? In exploring Duterte through Deistic themes—reason, moral law, the rejection of religious coercion—we neither absolve nor demonize. We trace patterns. We raise questions. And in doing so, we hold a mirror to our society.
For Duterte is not merely a singular figure—he is a symptom and a symbol. He rose on the back of disillusionment, of a people exhausted by democratic rituals that delivered little justice. He did not promise salvation; he promised order. And in the Philippines, where institutions often fail and piety often masks abuse, that promise struck a chord.
But at what cost?
Deism teaches us to trust reason, not reaction. It calls for moral courage, not just political will. And so, in evaluating Duterte, we must ask: did he move us closer to that moral ideal—or farther from it?
This book does not offer easy answers. Instead, it invites reflection. On Duterte, yes—but more importantly, on ourselves. What kind of leaders do we choose? What do we sacrifice for order? And can we, as a nation, grow from faith to reason—without losing our soul in the process?
In the pages that follow, we explore Duterte not as a moral archetype, but as a man: flawed, complex, perhaps even searching. Through the lens of Deism, we may not discover a prophet—but we may find a prism through which to better understand our politics, our history, and the ethical future we must now dare to shape.
- Deism and the Power of Reason in Leadership
Deism, an often-overlooked strand in the tapestry of spiritual philosophy, offers a strikingly modern approach to understanding the divine and humanity’s place in the cosmos. It rejects dogma and embraces the idea that reason and the natural world are the true revelations of the Creator. Deists believe in a higher power—one that set the universe in motion but does not intervene in human affairs. From this vantage point, the measure of a person’s spiritual and moral worth lies not in their piety but in their rationality, compassion, and capacity to live in harmony with natural law.
For Filipino readers, the notion of Deism may feel foreign at first glance, especially in a country deeply shaped by centuries of Catholic tradition. Yet, woven into our history are echoes of this Enlightenment spirit—most notably in the writings and actions of our national heroes. José Rizal, Apolinario Mabini, and Graciano López Jaena were not just political reformers; they were, in essence, spiritual revolutionaries who believed that reason and conscience—not fear or superstition—should guide the Filipino soul.
This book is not an attempt to canonize Rodrigo Duterte as a Deist, nor to paint his administration in the serene light of Enlightenment philosophy. Rather, it is a thought experiment, a reflective journey into how some of Duterte’s choices, beliefs, and contradictions resonate—whether intentionally or accidentally—with key Deist ideas. At the same time, it confronts the glaring tensions between reason and authoritarianism, between moral law and brute force.
The goal is not to idolize or vilify, but to understand.
What happens when a nation craves order more than freedom? When a leader rejects the Church but fails to build a new moral framework in its place? Can a society founded on faith be healed by reason? And is it possible that in Duterte’s often-chaotic leadership, there lies a misunderstood struggle between instinct and enlightenment?
These are the questions this book dares to explore. And in doing so, it invites every Filipino reader to examine not only a controversial leader but also our collective journey—toward a more awakened, humane, and rational national spirit.
Rodrigo Duterte is a man both reviled and revered—a paradox draped in profanity, political cunning, and, perhaps surprisingly, moments of philosophical curiosity. For many Filipinos, he embodied strength amid chaos. For others, he represented the very danger of placing too much faith in a single man’s will. But behind the firebrand persona and controversial policies lies a deeper question worth exploring: could there have been in him an unspoken yearning for moral order outside traditional religion? Was his rejection of clerical authority merely rebellion, or a crude expression of something closer to Deism?
Deism, often misunderstood, is not a religion but a worldview—one that believes in a Creator whose divine reason is imprinted in nature, human conscience, and the laws of the universe. Deists reject religious dogma, miracles, and the idea of a vengeful deity manipulating history. Instead, they uphold the use of reason, the pursuit of truth, and the belief that morality is discovered through nature and logic, not imposed by sacred texts or religious hierarchies.
In the 18th and 19th centuries, Deism played a key role in shaping revolutions, democratic ideals, and calls for social reform. Thinkers like Thomas Jefferson, Voltaire, and José Rizal embraced reason as a divine gift—an alternative to the oppressive structures of church and crown. Deism was never a mass movement, but its subtle influence helped light the way toward modernity. In the Philippines, the Propaganda Movement, led by Rizal, López Jaena, and Mabini, carried this spirit. They did not burn churches or deny the divine; they simply refused to surrender their conscience to clerical rule.
Duterte, born a century later into a vastly different Philippines, waged his own war against the Church—but his methods and motivations often lacked the refinement of Enlightenment thinkers. He cursed bishops, mocked God, and derided religious rituals. Yet paradoxically, he also expressed concern for the poor, condemned hypocrisy, and preached about human dignity—sometimes in the same breath as justifying violence.
This e-book is not an apology for Duterte’s failures, nor a hagiography of his presidency. Rather, it is a reflective exploration of whether, beneath the brutality and populist rage, there were flickers of Deistic thought—moments when Duterte questioned blind faith, trusted human instinct, or confronted organized religion with raw honesty. It is also a mirror for Filipino readers, inviting us to ask: what do we expect from our leaders? Should they be men of faith, of power, or of reason?
In times of chaos, we often turn to the familiar: charismatic saviors, religious rituals, or punitive laws. But what if the real path forward is not through fear or fanaticism, but through the quiet strength of rational morality? Can a nation learn to listen—not to thunderous sermons or political slogans—but to the still, small voice of reason?
Let us walk through Duterte’s rise, rule, and legacy—not just to judge, but to understand. Through the lens of Deism, we may discover not only the contradictions of a misunderstood rebel, but the soul of a nation still searching for its enlightened path.
2. The Rise of Duterte
Power, in the absence of reason, is often feared. But reason, in the hands of the fearless, can become a force of transformation—or tyranny.
Before he was president, Rodrigo Duterte was already a myth in motion. To the people of Davao City, he was “The Punisher”—a local legend who transformed a once-violent frontier into a model of order and discipline, albeit under the shadow of extrajudicial force. His rise to national prominence did not follow the usual trajectory of Philippine politics. He did not emerge from the entrenched elite, nor did he seek endorsement from religious institutions or project spiritual piety. In many ways, he was a political outlier: crass, irreverent, and unapologetically secular.
But what made Duterte so appealing to millions of Filipinos?
At the core of his ascent was a deep public hunger—not merely for change, but for control. For decades, the nation had been trapped in a cycle of dysfunction, where democracy was synonymous with disorder, and justice seemed to apply only to the poor. Into this vacuum stepped Duterte, a man who offered not lofty ideals, but direct results; not theology, but toughness.
He personified the archetype of “Dirty Harry”—the lawman who bends the rules to keep the peace. In doing so, he tapped into something primal in the Filipino psyche: a yearning for a strong father figure who could restore order at any cost. His language was vulgar, but clear. His promises were brutal, but unambiguous. And his message was unmistakable: “I will fix this country, whether you like my methods or not.”
For a populace exhausted by crime, corruption, and institutional hypocrisy, Duterte’s raw rhetoric felt like truth—even if it came dressed in brutality.
Yet beneath the iron-fisted image lay a curious paradox: a man who distrusted institutions but trusted instinct; who mocked religion yet often spoke of fate; who condemned hypocrisy while embracing contradiction. These are not the marks of a classic ideologue—but perhaps of a man wrestling with deeper philosophical currents than he was willing to name.
In several speeches, Duterte described his decisions as guided by a “sense of duty,” an inner voice compelling him to act for the greater good—even when those actions defied convention. Though he often rejected organized religion, he frequently alluded to a personal compass, a voice of conscience that informed his governance. Could this have been, in a crude and unrefined form, his version of Deistic reason?
Deism teaches that morality and leadership are rooted not in scripture, but in natural law—the idea that truth and justice are etched into the fabric of existence and accessible through reason and conscience. From this angle, Duterte’s disdain for religious dogma may not have been mere rebellion—it may have been a raw, instinctive assertion that the voice of inner conscience holds more weight than clerical decree.
And yet, Deism does not merely exalt reason—it also demands restraint. It affirms liberty, human dignity, and the sanctity of life. Here lies the great tension: Duterte’s legacy cannot be easily reconciled with the ideals of Enlightenment philosophy.
As mayor, he governed with charisma and fear in equal measure. His “iron hand” brought peace to Davao, but at the cost of a culture of silence. Supporters praised him as a necessary evil. Critics feared him as a threat to human rights. The truth, as with many complex figures, lies somewhere in between.
What is undeniable is this: Rodrigo Duterte rose not only because he was different, but because he embodied the disillusionment of a weary nation. He was the mirror held up to our crumbling institutions, our moral compromises, and our desperate longing for integrity—even if it came wrapped in intimidation.
Was Duterte a Deist? Not in any conventional sense. But perhaps he was a kind of secular mystic—a man who trusted fate, followed an inner voice, and rejected both religious hypocrisy and political pretense.
Deism holds that reason is the highest expression of faith. In Duterte, reason often gave way to reaction. And yet, his contradictions raise questions we cannot ignore: What makes a leader just? What kind of order do we truly seek? And can a nation ever heal if it continues to choose strength over wisdom?
3. Profanity, Irony, and Rebellion
“God is stupid.” – Rodrigo Duterte
Few presidents in Philippine history have clashed so openly and unapologetically with the religious establishment as Rodrigo Roa Duterte. In a nation where nearly 80% of the population identifies as Roman Catholic—and where religious devotion seeps into politics, culture, and daily life—Duterte’s public disdain for the Catholic Church was more than shocking. It was revolutionary.
Or was it merely rebellious?
In 2018, during a televised speech, Duterte infamously declared: “Who is this stupid God?”—a blunt challenge aimed at the Christian doctrine of original sin and the portrayal of an all-powerful yet seemingly inconsistent deity. The backlash was immediate and fierce. Bishops, priests, and laypeople condemned him. But to many Filipinos—especially the disillusioned youth and marginalized sectors—his words were not blasphemy. They were a long-overdue confrontation with centuries of religious hypocrisy.
Duterte did not retreat. Instead, he doubled down, recounting his traumatic experiences with abusive clergy during his youth. He spoke not merely as a critic of doctrine, but as a survivor of betrayal cloaked in sacred robes. To some, his profanity was vulgarity. To others, it was pain speaking truth.
In that moment, Duterte echoed a position familiar to Deists like José Rizal, Graciano López Jaena, and Voltaire—that organized religion, far from being a pure moral compass, often becomes a tool of domination, fear, and silence.
Like Rizal, Duterte saw through the rituals and robes. But unlike Rizal, who maintained a calm and reasoned critique, Duterte responded with sarcasm and fury. Rizal wielded the pen; Duterte the microphone—and the insult. And yet, both struck at the same target: religious arrogance devoid of compassion.
Deism, as a worldview, rejects the idea of divine intermediaries, miraculous interventions, and clergy claiming monopoly over truth. It teaches that the true God—the Divine Intelligence or Natural Energy—speaks through reason, conscience, and the observable laws of the universe. In this light, Duterte’s rejection of religious authority, though crude and jarring, may spring from a deeper instinct: that faith should be free, not forced; personal, not institutionalized.
Yet rejecting religion is not the same as embracing reason—and therein lies the Deistic divide.
Deism calls for moral accountability and the pursuit of truth through reflective thought, not mere defiance. Duterte’s provocations were more reactionary than reasoned. Still, they served a purpose: they unsettled the religious status quo and ignited a national conversation about the role of religion in public life.
In a strange and unintended way, Duterte’s mockery became a mirror for the Church. For decades, the institution had aligned with the powerful, ignored the poor, and silenced dissenters. Duterte exposed that gap—not with theological critique, but with the brutal honesty of the street.
It is tempting to dismiss his rhetoric as simple vulgarity. But beneath the profanity lies a question that Deism dares to ask: If God exists, what kind of God is worthy of our reverence?
Is it a God who condemns children for ancestral sins? A God who permits religious leaders to exploit the vulnerable? Or is it a God who whispers through reason and cries out through justice?
Duterte never claimed to know the answer. He never offered a theology. But his defiance—however flawed—echoes the spiritual unrest of those who seek the divine not in churches, but in conscience; not in ritual, but in reason.
Rizal sought to reform the Filipino soul through education and inner discipline. Duterte, by contrast, tore down the altars but left no blueprint for what should take their place.
His battle with the Church was not just political. It was existential.
And like all rebels caught between belief and bitterness, Duterte invites us to look past the noise and ask the deeper question: What kind of God do we believe in? And does that belief lead us toward compassion—or away from it?
He may never build a theology. But in shaking the pillars of blind faith, Duterte inadvertently stirs the soul of a people yearning for a reasoned reverence—a spirituality unshackled from fear, and finally free to ask: What kind of truth sets us free?
4. Morality Without God?
“I do not care about human rights, you better believe me.” – Rodrigo Duterte
Rodrigo Duterte’s most polarizing legacy—his unrelenting war on drugs—has drawn sharp rebuke from the international community, human rights organizations, and many progressive voices at home. Yet, paradoxically, it also earned him massive support from millions of Filipinos. Why?
Perhaps the answer lies not in blind allegiance, but in a deeper collective yearning—a primal hunger for order, justice, and decisive leadership in a country long battered by systemic failure. For many who felt abandoned by the state, betrayed by religious institutions, and ignored by the courts, Duterte offered not just action, but reckoning.
He did not cloak himself in religious pretense. He made no appeal to divine mandate. In fact, he often scoffed at religious rituals and railed against the Church’s moral authority. Yet, in his own crude way, he evoked a kind of raw justice—a moral order not drawn from scriptures, but from street-level survival and instinct. In this, he unknowingly brushed against the contours of Deistic morality.
Deism teaches that morality is not handed down by gods through priests and prophets, but is woven into the very fabric of nature and reason. The Deist rejects moral codes rooted in fear of hell or hope of heaven, and instead embraces a natural law—an inner compass accessible to all people, regardless of faith. Right and wrong, in this view, are not dictated by dogma, but discovered through conscience, reflection, and experience.
Duterte, with his uncensored rhetoric and disdain for hypocrisy, did not preach this philosophy. But he embodied parts of it. He spoke from experience, not theology. His anger was not theoretical—it was personal, rooted in decades of confronting crime, corruption, and a system too sluggish to protect the vulnerable.
In that sense, Duterte’s war on drugs was not merely a policy. It was a moral crusade—however flawed. For many Filipinos, it signaled that finally, someone was willing to act. After years of watching drug lords buy off judges, police turn a blind eye, and communities decay, here was a leader who said: Enough.
To the Deist, who values reason as a force for moral and social reform, there is something undeniably resonant in such resolve. Decisive action, especially when institutions fail, can reflect a deeper impulse toward justice. But this same impulse, untempered by reason and compassion, can also go astray.
And this is where the Deist would raise a warning flag.
Natural law affirms the sacredness of life, the dignity of the human being, and the importance of proportionate justice. While Duterte’s campaign may have dismantled drug syndicates and restored a sense of control, it also veered dangerously close to moral collapse. Extrajudicial killings, disregard for due process, and a public rhetoric that dehumanized suspects all challenged the very principles that Deism upholds.
Justice, in the Deistic view, is not vengeance. It is balance. It seeks to protect, not destroy. It values truth, but also mercy. Duterte’s war blurred those lines—and in doing so, exposed the ethical tightrope that leaders must walk when confronting evil.
Yet Duterte never claimed to be a moral exemplar. He was not a saint. He was not a philosopher-king. He was a warrior—wounded, hardened, and fiercely loyal to those he saw as victims of neglect. He governed from instinct, not ideology; from pain, not platitudes.
Therein lies a strange paradox: a man estranged from organized religion, yet deeply animated by a desire to punish what he perceived as evil. Not the detached virtue of theologians, but the visceral justice of a street-hardened mayor turned president. He did not articulate a moral philosophy—but he lived one.
And in doing so, he forced the Filipino people to confront a difficult question: Is morality dependent on belief in God? Can a man who mocks religion still act out of a genuine, if flawed, sense of right and wrong?
The Deist answers: Yes. Morality does not require religion. It requires reason, conscience, and courage. And, perhaps, a willingness to act when others merely talk.
Duterte’s legacy is complicated. His war on drugs is marred by abuse, fear, and unresolved grief. But it also cracked the illusion that morality belongs solely to the religious. It asked a nation to wrestle with what justice truly means—beyond sermons, beyond slogans.
In that struggle, the Deistic voice offers clarity: morality is not imposed by clerics or enshrined in rituals. It is discovered in the human heart and tested by how we treat others—especially the least, the lost, and the unloved.
Duterte challenged the Church. He shattered the silence. And whether one sees him as a necessary force or a dangerous one, he reopened the conversation about justice—its meaning, its limits, and its source.
That conversation is not over. Nor should it be.
5. Freedom, Fear, and Faith
“I am not a statesman. I am a mayor. That is how I run this country.” – Rodrigo Duterte
Rodrigo Duterte did not ascend to the presidency wearing the mantle of democracy’s noble custodian. He arrived as its disruptor, its necessary shock. To some, he was a threat to liberty; to others, he was the only one brave enough to defend it from the rot of lawlessness. Yet perhaps the deeper truth lies somewhere in between—where order and fear share a fragile dance, and where freedom must be continually redefined.
Under Duterte’s rule, many liberties came under fire. Press freedoms were tested, dissenting voices found themselves under surveillance or behind bars, and critics often felt the weight of executive power pressing on their speech. From the closure of ABS-CBN to the passage of the Anti-Terrorism Law, many saw a shadow falling over Philippine democracy.
But Deism, unlike rigid ideologies, encourages us to view politics not as a static moral ledger, but as a living test of reason and conscience. From this perspective, Duterte’s governance invites a deeper question: What is freedom for, and how do we protect it in an age of moral confusion and institutional paralysis?
Duterte seemed to believe that fear could be a form of justice—an organizing principle in a society long overwhelmed by disorder. In his view, fear wasn’t a tyrant’s tool; it was a medicine for a sick nation. When bureaucracies failed, when laws were circumvented by oligarchs, when drugs infiltrated even the grassroots, Duterte brought a kind of primal reckoning. Fear, he seemed to argue, could restore what years of inaction had eroded: discipline, order, safety.
To the Deist, this is a dangerous logic—but not without precedent. Even Enlightenment thinkers, champions of reason and liberty, recognized the need for firm laws and leadership. Thomas Hobbes, though not a Deist, famously warned that in a state of unchecked freedom, life becomes “nasty, brutish, and short.” Liberty must be rooted in moral law, not license. And here lies Duterte’s paradox: he curtailed some freedoms, but did so in the name of a greater order—one that many ordinary Filipinos felt had long been abandoned by the elite and the pious alike.
But fear, while effective, is never eternal. A society that governs by fear alone cannot cultivate reason, nor nourish conscience. Duterte’s strongman tactics, though at times necessary to break inertia, risked dulling the very faculties that make a people free: their capacity to think, to speak, to dissent, to grow.
In contrast, Apolinario Mabini, one of the great minds of Filipino political thought, envisioned a republic not of fear but of rational moral order. His idea of governance rested on virtue and civic duty, not force. He believed in laws shaped by enlightened minds and upheld by citizens committed to the common good. From this angle, Duterte’s leadership style stands in tension with Mabini’s dream—but it also challenges it. In a country where idealism often drowns in bureaucracy, Duterte’s gritty realism forced the nation to face its shadows.
Perhaps both views are needed. Mabini’s vision provides the moral north; Duterte’s iron hand breaks the chains of complacency. Between them lies the ongoing struggle of the Filipino soul—to be free, yet orderly; to be principled, yet effective.
The Deist position values liberty, but it also values responsibility. It recognizes that true freedom is not chaos—it is harmony with natural law, reason, and the well-being of others. Duterte’s years in power remind us that liberty is fragile, not because it is weak, but because it must constantly balance strength with wisdom.
And that is where the Filipino people now stand—at the crossroads of fear and freedom, with a chance to rediscover the deeper purpose of both.And that is where the Filipino people now stand—at the crossroads of fear and freedom, with a chance to rediscover the deeper purpose of both.
6. Providence or Power?
“Destiny is the product of choice. I choose to run, not because I want to, but because I must.” – Rodrigo Duterte
Rodrigo Duterte’s rise to power was often depicted as an act of inevitability—an impression that he was the leader the Philippines needed, but one whom fate had thrust into a role he did not seek. “I do not want to run, but I must,” he declared, a sentiment that not only encapsulated his own sense of personal duty but also conveyed a larger, almost fateful narrative of the nation’s need for a decisive, unconventional leader. He was not a figure driven by grand ideological goals or lofty ideals. Rather, he presented himself as a pragmatist—a man whose leadership emerged as the necessary response to a nation in crisis. Whether this “necessity” was truly the result of a divine plan or the culmination of historical forces is a question worth exploring, particularly from a Deistic perspective.
At its core, Deism teaches that the universe operates according to natural law and reason. It rejects the idea of divine intervention or miraculous events, positing instead that humanity is responsible for shaping its own fate. According to Deism, providence is not a direct intervention by God but rather the operation of the natural laws of the universe. Individuals, through reason and rational action, are the active agents of their destiny. The notion of “destiny” in Deism thus aligns with a person’s ability to understand and navigate the laws of nature and morality, using them to shape their own path.
Duterte’s narrative, which positioned his leadership as the inevitable outcome of national decay, somewhat conflicts with the Deistic ideal of human agency. In Duterte’s worldview, destiny was something he was bound to fulfill—an obligation laid upon him by the dire circumstances of the country. He did not view himself as a self-made man of political design, but rather as someone whose rise to power was part of a larger historical trajectory, dictated by a nation’s suffering. But from a Deistic perspective, where humans are seen as capable of shaping their future through reason and responsibility, this view of destiny might appear as a kind of passive surrender to fate.
Yet, there is a contradiction in Duterte’s rhetoric and actions. While he spoke of destiny, he also acted with a sense of personal agency—his policies were not simply the result of fate but of deliberate choices. He rejected the complacency of the political elite and the ineffective bureaucracy that, in his view, had failed the nation. In many ways, his presidency was driven by a form of “realpolitik,” an approach grounded in the harsh realities of governance, rather than ideals of democracy or liberty. His focus was on immediate, practical solutions to problems such as crime, drugs, and corruption, which he saw as crippling the country’s progress.
From the Deistic viewpoint, power is not a divine gift, nor does it come from a predetermined fate. Rather, it is the responsibility of individuals to act in accordance with reason, justice, and the well-being of society. Leaders, according to Deism, must align their actions with natural law and moral principles. In this sense, power is earned through wisdom and service to the greater good. Leaders are expected to be moral exemplars, guiding their nations with reason and a commitment to justice.
Duterte’s leadership style, while often controversial and authoritarian, was undeniably pragmatic. His policies were motivated by a desire to restore order, particularly in the face of what he saw as a failing system. The war on drugs, his dismissal of political correctness, and his aggressive stance toward the traditional political elite were all part of his attempt to break the chains of political inertia and bring swift change to a nation he perceived as morally and socially decayed. From his perspective, fear and force were necessary tools to restore discipline and stability. But the question remains: does this method align with the principles of Deism, which emphasizes reason, justice, and respect for individual rights?
In Deism, power that is not rooted in moral law and reason risks devolving into tyranny. Duterte’s strongman tactics, though effective in some respects, raised serious ethical concerns. His war on drugs, for instance, led to thousands of deaths, many of them extrajudicial killings. While his actions may have been viewed as necessary by some, they came at the cost of civil liberties and human rights. The Deist view would likely challenge the morality of a leader who disregards these fundamental principles in favor of expediency and brute force.
Yet, Duterte’s actions cannot be entirely dismissed. His leadership was an expression of a deep moral urgency—a belief that the nation was in crisis and needed a decisive, even radical response. From a Deistic perspective, this could be seen as a reaction to the failure of traditional systems of governance. Duterte’s rise was not just a rejection of the status quo, but a call to address the moral and social failures that had plagued the country for decades. In this sense, his leadership represented a kind of moral reckoning, forcing the nation to confront its deepest issues.
However, the Deistic lens also compels us to question whether the ends justify the means. Deism teaches that the pursuit of justice must be guided by reason and moral principles, and that leaders must govern with respect for the natural laws that govern human society. Duterte’s methods—particularly his disregard for due process and the rights of individuals—may be seen as inconsistent with these principles. While his actions were driven by a belief in the necessity of change, they often undermined the very foundations of justice and liberty.
The paradox at the heart of Duterte’s leadership lies in his contradictory approach to power. On the one hand, he sought to restore order and discipline to a fractured society; on the other, his methods often trampled on the freedoms and rights that are supposed to underpin a just society. This tension between power and providence, between authoritarian control and natural law, is the crux of the challenge faced by Filipino society. As Duterte’s presidency draws to a close, the question remains: what kind of leadership will emerge in its wake?
The future of Philippine leadership lies not in the extremes of Duterte’s strongman tactics, but in the synthesis of his pragmatic approach with the ideals of Deism—principles of justice, reason, and respect for natural law. The challenge for future leaders will be to balance power with wisdom, authority with compassion, and action with morality. The Filipino people must ask themselves whether they can move beyond the politics of fear and rediscover a leadership model rooted in reason, truth, and justice.
In the end, Duterte’s legacy will be defined by his willingness to break with convention and challenge the political elite, but also by the moral and ethical questions that his leadership has raised. Was he a man of destiny, acting in accordance with a higher purpose, or was he simply a man driven by his own sense of urgency and frustration with the status quo? Only time will tell. But for now, the nation stands at a crossroads, with the opportunity to shape a future that values liberty, justice, and reason above all.
Conclusion: The Philippines Between Authoritarianism and Enlightenment
Rodrigo Duterte leaves behind a nation divided—between admiration and resentment, discipline and dissent, fear and hope. His was a presidency that redefined political language and leadership style, not through intellectual finesse or institutional vision, but through blunt-force charisma and gut-level instinct. To many, he was the long-awaited hammer against crime, corruption, and hypocrisy. To others, he was the very embodiment of authoritarian danger, a man who risked democratic erosion in the name of order.
In Deism, the guiding light is not revelation, but reason. It is the belief that the universe is governed not by arbitrary decrees from heaven but by discoverable laws—moral, natural, and universal. Leadership, then, is not divinely ordained nor imposed by fear; it is earned through the consistent alignment of one’s actions with the principles of justice, liberty, and dignity.
Viewed through this lens, Duterte was not a Deist in doctrine, but in fragments. He rejected organized religion with the zeal of a 19th-century reformer, echoed the anti-clericalism of José Rizal and Graciano López Jaena, and challenged moral hypocrisy head-on. He exposed the rot beneath gilded pulpits, dared to call out centuries of religious overreach, and gave voice to a people long disillusioned by pious platitudes.
But unlike the Deists of the Enlightenment, Duterte did not seek to build a new moral framework rooted in reason and human dignity. He disrupted, but he did not rebuild. He acted, often decisively, but without designing enduring systems. His governance style—centralized, personality-driven, reactive—succeeded in commanding fear and obedience, but failed to institutionalize long-term reforms.
As a result, the Philippines today finds itself at a crossroads. With Duterte gone from power, what remains is not a robust architecture of good governance, but a vacuum vulnerable to opportunism. His administration did not lay the groundwork for a sustainable justice system, nor did it create checks and balances strong enough to prevent future abuses. Many of the same political dynasties and entrenched interests still dominate the landscape. The war on drugs failed to address the roots of addiction and poverty. The economy, already strained by inequality, now faces mounting inflation, debt, and social unrest.
Yet the lessons of Duterte’s era should not be discarded. They should be distilled.
The call now is not to idolize Duterte, but to understand him. To analyze the conditions—social, cultural, historical—that gave rise to his appeal. His rise to power revealed deep wounds in the Filipino psyche: the trauma of colonial rule, distrust of institutions, fatigue from slow justice, and a collective hunger for swift, decisive action.
Duterte mirrored this wounded spirit. He expressed what many dared not say. His harshness was interpreted by many as sincerity. His rage, as authenticity. But sincerity without vision is not enough. And rage without reason cannot build a nation.
To honor whatever good Duterte attempted, Filipinos must build on his legacy by doing what he failed to do—creating a culture of responsible leadership, rational governance, and institutional strength. This means moving beyond the need for a “strongman” and cultivating a system that rewards merit, transparency, and ethical service.
The real path forward is not in nostalgia for Duterte’s style, but in answering the needs that fueled his popularity with more enlightened solutions—ones based on education, civic participation, and moral reason. The next generation must move from reaction to reflection, from dependency on charisma to a deep culture of democratic engagement.
Let us not glorify the man. Let us not demonize him either. Let us, instead, take his contradictions as a mirror of our own national contradictions—and begin the slow, necessary task of healing and maturing as a people.
In this search for national renewal, the Filipino Enlightenment offers a guiding star. José Rizal’s vision of a people empowered by education, Mabini’s call for moral statesmanship, and Jaena’s defense of human dignity—all provide a roadmap toward a future rooted not in authoritarian impulse, but in rational compassion.
A Deistic society does not reject spirituality—it reclaims it from superstition and fear, and reinvests it in nature, conscience, and shared reason. In this spirit, the Philippines must rediscover a spirituality that embraces both order and liberty, both discipline and humanity.
The youth of the nation—the same force Rizal once called the “hope of the motherland”—must rise not as blind followers of any singular man, but as critical thinkers, builders of systems, seekers of balance. The future of Filipino governance must no longer depend on the will of a single leader, but on a culture of civic responsibility, legal consistency, and moral accountability.
Duterte’s story may not fit the traditional mold of a Deist reformer, but his contradictions have provoked the very kind of national reflection that Deistic thinking values. He challenged tradition. He forced society to ask difficult questions about justice, God, power, and morality. For that alone, he cannot be easily dismissed.
In the end, the legacy of Duterte will not be decided by those who praised or condemned him in his time. It will be shaped by what Filipinos choose to do next—with the lessons, the wounds, and the challenges he leaves behind.
Will the nation slip deeper into authoritarian nostalgia? Or will it rise with reason, conscience, and a renewed Enlightenment spirit?
The choice, as always in a Deist world, rests not with fate—but with human will, guided by truth, shaped by justice, and sustained by a shared reverence for life, liberty, and reason.
ADDENDUM:
What qualities should the next Philippine leader must have?
The next leader of the Philippines must embody a set of qualities that can help heal divisions, restore trust in institutions, and guide the nation toward a more just, sustainable, and inclusive future. Given the challenges the country faces—such as economic inequality, political polarization, corruption, and the need for stronger governance—the next Philippine leader should possess the following qualities:
1. Integrity and Transparency
Integrity should be at the heart of the next leader’s character. The Filipino people need a leader who is not only honest but who upholds high moral standards, operates transparently, and values accountability. Transparency is critical to combating the widespread corruption that has plagued the government for years. This leader should model ethical behavior, making it clear that there will be no tolerance for corruption at any level of government.
2. Commitment to Human Rights
A leader who prioritizes the protection and promotion of human rights is essential for rebuilding the social fabric of the country. The next president must be committed to protecting the dignity of every Filipino, ensuring that all individuals are treated fairly and equally before the law. This includes addressing abuses in the war on drugs, supporting vulnerable groups (such as the poor, indigenous peoples, and marginalized sectors), and advocating for justice, due process, and civil liberties.
3. Visionary Leadership
The next leader must have a clear, compelling vision for the future of the Philippines. This vision should encompass long-term goals such as economic development, environmental sustainability, improved education, and strengthened social welfare. The leader should inspire the nation with a sense of purpose, guiding the country through complex challenges while fostering national pride, unity, and collective action. A visionary leader sees beyond immediate political cycles and focuses on building a better future for the next generations.
4. Empathy and Compassion
Empathy is vital for understanding the struggles and needs of the Filipino people. The leader should demonstrate genuine concern for the well-being of citizens, particularly the most vulnerable. Compassionate leadership means recognizing the human side of every policy and decision, listening to the people, and making sure that no one is left behind in the pursuit of progress. This empathy should be reflected in policies aimed at reducing poverty, addressing social injustices, and improving public health and education.
5. Strong Commitment to the Rule of Law
A strong leader must firmly believe in the rule of law and ensure that the justice system functions impartially, transparently, and efficiently. Upholding the Constitution and respecting legal frameworks are essential for restoring trust in government institutions. The next leader must also demonstrate a commitment to judicial independence, ensuring that the judiciary is free from political influence and that laws are applied equally to all.
6. Pragmatic Problem-Solving Ability
In an increasingly complex world, the next Philippine leader must be pragmatic and able to make sound, practical decisions. Rather than clinging to ideologies, the leader must focus on what works in addressing the country’s pressing challenges, such as poverty, unemployment, climate change, and healthcare. This quality requires an understanding of how to balance short-term needs with long-term goals and how to navigate both local and global complexities.
7. Strong Leadership in Times of Crisis
The next leader must be a steady and calm presence during times of crisis, whether economic, political, or natural disaster-related. A leader who can effectively manage crises, demonstrate resilience, and lead the nation through difficult times with decisiveness and clear communication will inspire confidence. The ability to mobilize resources, coordinate responses, and keep the public informed is vital for mitigating the impact of any crisis.
8. Diplomatic Acumen
Given the geopolitical importance of the Philippines in Southeast Asia, the next leader must possess the diplomatic skills necessary to navigate international relations with sensitivity, respect, and strategic foresight. This leader should be able to maintain balanced relations with global powers, such as the United States, China, and ASEAN neighbors, while protecting Philippine sovereignty and national interests. Diplomacy will be key to managing territorial disputes, trade relations, and environmental concerns.
9. Inclusivity and National Unity
The next leader must be a unifying figure who can bridge political, social, and cultural divides. With a history of political polarization in the Philippines, it is essential for the next leader to bring together diverse communities, fostering a sense of national unity. This inclusivity should be reflected in the leader’s policies, ensuring that all Filipinos—regardless of ethnicity, religion, or background—have equal opportunities to thrive. The leader must also focus on strengthening democratic institutions and promoting dialogue between various sectors of society.
10. Pragmatic Environmental Stewardship
Environmental sustainability is a critical issue for the Philippines, with the nation being highly vulnerable to climate change, natural disasters, and environmental degradation. The next leader must prioritize sustainable development, investing in clean energy, waste reduction, and conservation. Moreover, addressing the issue of environmental protection, particularly in terms of preserving natural resources and mitigating climate risks, is essential to ensure the country’s future resilience.
11. Education and Innovation-Focused
A forward-thinking leader will prioritize investments in education and technology to position the Philippines as a competitive player in the global economy. A strong educational system, from primary to higher education, should equip Filipinos with the skills necessary for the future workforce. Additionally, the leader should foster innovation by promoting science, technology, and entrepreneurship, creating opportunities for young people to thrive in an ever-changing world.
12. Decisiveness and Accountability
The ability to make tough decisions and follow through is a hallmark of effective leadership. A strong leader does not shy away from difficult choices, whether it be on issues of economic reform, infrastructure development, or addressing the nation’s long-standing problems. At the same time, the leader must be accountable for the consequences of those decisions, ensuring that the Filipino people are fully informed and that the government is held to the highest standards.
13. Strengthening Democratic Institutions
Finally, the next leader must be a firm believer in democracy and must work tirelessly to protect and strengthen democratic institutions. This means ensuring free and fair elections, empowering local governments, and promoting a free press. A strong democracy requires vibrant civil society, a robust opposition, and public participation. The next leader should protect these pillars of democracy, ensuring that they are not undermined by political forces or authoritarian tendencies.
Conclusion
The Philippines’ future depends on a leader who is not only capable of addressing the country’s immediate concerns but also has the foresight, integrity, and empathy to lead with long-term vision. The next leader must possess a balanced mix of intellectual ability, emotional intelligence, and moral clarity to guide the nation toward prosperity and national healing. Ultimately, the qualities outlined above—integrity, vision, empathy, pragmatism, and a commitment to justice—are essential for fostering a stable, just, and prosperous Philippines.