Why we should not call it a drug war (and even if it were that, why it should have limits)

RESTORATIVE justice advocate Jeremy Simons argues against referring to the ongoing campaign of the Philippine government against illegal drugs as a ‘war.’ Although the violence that characterizes the campaign cannot bedenied, calling it a ‘war’ unwittingly endorses the view that it is an armed conflict between the State and other States, or non-State armed groups.

While most drug syndicates are armed, and have used violence to further their interests, the confrontations with them have been mainly sporadic and devoid of the political agenda associated with inter-State wars or those involving politico-ideological groups.

(There are, of course, those who have been able to marry their interest in politics and narcotics as businesses, or benefited from quid pro quo arrangements with drug traffickers to stay in power.)

The position that ‘war’ in this case is merely a figure of speech actually lends support to the argument that all the more we ought to avoid describing the situation as a ‘drug war.’ The “indirect way of referring” to the campaign could end up prescribing what it should be.

Simons in his discourse points out that a ‘drug war’ indicates an ‘us versus them’ mentality, and fosters the total victory mindset.

Far from being ‘thems,’ victims of the violent drive against illegal drugs have mostly been civilians like you and me. A number were literally at the wrong place, at the wrong time. In the cases of Kian Loyd Delos Santos, Carl Arnaiz and at least 54 other minors who since July 2016 died in violent circumstances involving the police or unidentified killers, they are not only civilians, but also more tragically, young ones.

It is important to keep pointing out that the guilt of those harmed who had been alleged as actors in illegal drugs have not been proven beyond reasonable doubt in an impartial court. No amount of justification or casual dismissal will change the arbitrariness and unjust nature of their deaths.

Why are young people in marginalized urban communities increasingly vulnerable? Is it because as a group they are easily caught by the complex web of substance abuse and crime? Or is it our understanding of their situation that needs updating?

Children’s rights advocate Chic Dagapioso noted the changing profile of street children and youth they have been accompanying in Zamboanga.

An earlier set had been displaced by counter-insurgency operations in the Zamboanga Peninsula. Those minors were notorious for being addicted to solvents. They engaged in theft and other petty crimes, and broke into homes to steal food. They soon grew up; many started families. Dagapioso noted that a number still engage in crime.

The more recent generation of children and youth who consider the streets of Zamboanga as home had mostly come from Basilan, Sulu and Tawi-Tawi. Mostly they engage in begging, and making themselves useful by selling plastic bags and other wares.

It is thus not easy to profile and predict who would get lured by drugs and crime.

But we do so anyway, ignoring how these minors had gotten to where they are, —mainly because of societal factors over which they had no control—conveniently putting them in boxes, and treating them as nuisance others.

From there, it is not a difficult step to regard them as enemies who deserve to be annihilated. In the process, Dagapioso and company could find themselves culpable of abetting the enemy.

A war-oriented stance equates victory with destruction of the enemy. Top brass reluctance to suffer losses in terms of law enforcer casualties, and the quota system allegedly foisted on the police could make things worse. These could spawn mindsets like the one that pits the lives of ‘valued’ police against ‘worthless’ criminals, and end up sanctioning destructive and indiscriminate approaches.

But granting for the sake of discussion that the anti-illegal drugs drive were a ‘war,’ it would still have to lend itself to standards such as those set by International Humanitarian Law (IHL).

Philippine society would then be required to apply the principles of distinction, proportionality, precaution, and limitations on the warfare against drugs.

We would have to ask whether the Philippine government is making efforts to distinguish and spare civilians from those who are actively engaged in the drug war. Has this been the case whether the number used is 7,000 or 13,000casualties?

We would have to question whether the ‘collateral damage’ in the war is warranted by the expected direct military advantage. Have the deaths of 55 minors been a source of gain to the police?

The test of whether all feasible care have been take to avoid or minimize harm to civilians, to former combatants or those no longer fighting would hold. Going by those who were said to have ‘voluntarily surrendered’ via Oplan Tokhang but were eliminated afterwards anyway, it is highly likely that the drug war would not pass.

Finally, applying limitations to war methods would mean that stabbing enemies 30 times, wrapping their faces in packaging tape, and attempting to burn them would be out of bounds.

Liberally applying the words of Atty. Monalisa Barro of the International Committee of the Red Cross during a presentation on IHL, “wars without limits are wars without end.”

Stand against the madness of the antidrugs drive by not endorsing it as a war. Put limits to it. Better yet, scrap it and find other means of effectively resolving the problem.

Email feedback to magszmaglana@gmail.com.