WHEN NEWS broke that the International Criminal Court denied former President Rodrigo Roa Duterte’s appeal, the nation did not react with a single voice. Instead, it split into waves of emotion. Some felt vindicated, others felt validated, many felt relieved, and a great number felt heartbroken. For millions of Filipinos who supported PRRD, the ruling felt like a heavy stone dropped into the chest. There was disbelief, sadness, anger, and a sense of mourning, as if a beloved leader had been struck by a verdict that did not match the stories of service they hold in their hearts.
As a supporter of the former president, I felt the weight of that sadness deeply. And I know I am not alone. Across the country, from Davao to the farthest islands, many are grieving. They are weeping not because they deny the existence of legal processes, but because they know a man who, for them, protected the nation in ways they experienced personally. They remember the safer nights, the reduction of fear in their communities, the infrastructure built, and the strong voice that spoke against what others were afraid to confront.
No matter the political lens, one truth remains. When a public figure who shaped a generation of leadership faces international scrutiny, the emotional impact on his supporters is immense. This is not merely about politics. It is about identity. It is about loyalty. It is about grief.
The language of grief in a divided nation
Grief is not only for those who lose a person. It is also for those who lose a narrative that shaped their hope. Supporters of the former president are experiencing a collective grief that must be acknowledged. It is grief that is often mocked or dismissed by those on the other side, which only deepens the wound.
Communication becomes crucial in moments like this. A divided nation needs conversations that do not insult or diminish the emotions of any group. Instead of people shouting at one another, there must be room for empathy. There must be room for understanding why others feel the way they do.
In development communication, we learn that healing begins with dialogue. And right now, dialogue is what we need most.
Justice, perception, and the pain of feeling unheard
Legal systems operate on evidence. Support operates on lived experience. These two realities do not always align. While the ICC follows its own rules and judicial processes, supporters of PRRD follow their memories and their perception of the man they trusted.
They remember leadership that felt decisive during times of danger. They remember a president who showed raw humanity, humor, and courage. They remember the years when local communities felt safer. They remember the strength he projected, especially in Mindanao where he is not just a politician but a symbol of home.
So when an international body makes a ruling, many supporters feel that their voices and experiences are dismissed. They feel unheard. They feel unrecognized. They feel that the world sees only accusations and not the lives improved during his administration. This emotional disconnect is what creates national tension in moments like this.
The silence of those who grieve
There is a silence rising among PRRD supporters. It is not the silence of surrender. It is the silence of mourning. It is a silence heavy with questions: How did we reach this moment? Why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel like the country is being torn between narratives that cannot reconcile?
People are trying to understand a complicated reality. They want to show loyalty, but they also fear instability. They want to defend their beloved leader, but they also want peace. They want justice, but they want justice that considers context, humanity, and lived experiences.
In times like this, silence is a language. And it speaks of pain that words cannot fully capture.
Communication in seasons of pain
This is a moment when communicators, leaders, and citizens must choose their words with care. It is easy to inflame. It is harder to comfort. It is easy to provoke. It is harder to listen.
Development communication offers a path forward. It reminds us that conflict cannot be healed by shouting louder. It is healed through honoring the feelings of all sides, inviting meaningful dialogue, and recognizing that truth is never one-dimensional.
Supporters must be allowed to grieve without judgment. Critics must be allowed to express their views without cruelty. The nation must be allowed to process this chapter with maturity. That balance will not come from anger. It will come from communication rooted in respect.
A country searching for healing
In moments of political rupture, nations often forget that behind every position is a person with a story. The ICC ruling is not the end of that story. It is a chapter that will continue to provoke debate, compassion, division, and reflection. It will test relationships, alliances, and national patience.
But as Filipinos, we cannot allow this moment to destroy our ability to understand one another. We cannot let it erode our compassion. We cannot let it define us as enemies of one another.
For supporters, heartbreak is real. For critics, satisfaction is real. And for the country, confusion is real. No single narrative can contain the fullness of this national moment.
Spaces that speak of loyalty and love
Former President Rodrigo Roa Duterte is a figure who shaped emotion as much as he shaped policy. He inspired fierce loyalty. He sparked fierce opposition. And he created one of the most emotionally complex political landscapes this generation has ever experienced.
For his supporters, loyalty is not theoretical. It is deeply personal. It comes from experiences of safety, empowerment, and connection. This loyalty is not erased by a ruling. But it is shaken, and it is painful. Supporters carry a grief that deserves to be honored, even by those who disagree.
As the nation watches what comes next, our spaces must allow for calm, understanding, and empathy. Social media will try to divide us, but we must resist being weaponized. We must reject narratives that dehumanize. We must refuse to belittle the pain of others.
Truth is heavy. Justice is heavy. And emotions are heavy. But a nation that holds these burdens with dignity becomes stronger. A nation that weaponizes them becomes weaker.
The way forward
The ruling of the ICC is part of a larger story about accountability, sovereignty, justice, and global scrutiny. But for supporters of PRRD, it is also a deeply emotional story about loyalty and grief.
The challenge now is to allow truth, compassion, and communication to coexist. To allow the legal process to continue, while allowing citizens to feel their emotions fully. To allow debates to happen, while avoiding hatred. To allow justice to unfold, while nurturing peace.
This moment will be remembered not only for the ruling but for how the Filipino people responded. History will judge not only the leaders at the center, but the citizens who stood on either side of the divide.
The weight of the truth is heavy. But if we carry it together, it does not have to break us.
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Kethelle I. Sajonia is a college instructor at the University of Southeastern Philippines, Mintal Campus. She is currently in the final phase of her Doctor of Communication degree at the University of the Philippines. Her research interests include inclusivity, education, communication, and social development. She actively engages in scholarly research and community-based initiatives that advocate for inclusive and transformative communication practices.
