What Do They See in Sara Duterte?

A recent Pulse Asia survey places Sara Duterte far ahead of the field for the 2028 presidential elections. Forty-nine percent of respondents chose her as their preferred candidate. Leni Robredo was a distant second at 26 percent, followed by Raffy Tulfo at 14 percent.

It is far too early to treat this as a prediction. The field remains unsettled, and Leni has repeatedly said that she is not interested in running again, which presumably depressed her numbers.

Moreover, surveys are, of course, just snapshots. Political conditions can change quickly.

Still, we have to assume that the survey was properly conducted and the results are broadly credible, and that therefore, deserve to be taken seriously.

And they raise a difficult question: What do so many Filipinos see in Sara Duterte?

Let me begin with my own bias.

I believe a Sara Duterte presidency would be an unmitigated disaster.

Her performance as vice president and secretary of education demonstrated neither competence nor seriousness of purpose. Her tenure at DepEd will be remembered largely for the controversy over confidential funds, and for the absence of any clear vision or administrative response to the country’s profound learning crisis.

She now faces an impeachment trial involving serious allegations of corruption, misuse of public money, unexplained wealth, and threats against public officials.

And if she is to be judged by the company she keeps, her most prominent defenders include the Cayetanos, Harry Roque, Robin Padilla, Bong Go, and other personalities whose actions and conception of public service I do not respect — and that is an understatement.

And yet millions of Filipinos look at the same person and see something else.

It would be easy to dismiss them as uninformed, irrational, manipulated, or simply wrong.

That may provide some emotional satisfaction. It will not explain anything.

Are we asking the wrong questions?

Those of us who oppose Sara ask: How can people support her despite the confidential funds? Despite her performance at DepEd? Despite the impeachment charges?

To me — and, it seems, to nearly everyone in my social-media bubble — these are obvious and reasonable questions. Except that these questions assume that her supporters evaluate her according to the same standards we use.

Her supporters may be asking different questions: Is she strong? Is she willing to fight? Will she stand up to “Imperial Manila” and the political establishment? Can she protect people like us? Is she loyal to her father and to those who supported him?

Measured according to those standards, the qualities that make Sara unacceptable to us may make her attractive to others.

Her anger becomes courage. Her aggression becomes strength. Her refusal to explain herself becomes defiance. The attacks against her become evidence that powerful people are afraid of her.

This does not mean that I accept the reasoning of her supporters. But it does imply that they may be reasoning from a different understanding of what the country needs.

Sara is more than a candidate.

This is especially important in understanding Mindanao.

Sara’s support there cannot be reduced to a judgment of her qualifications. It is also, I believe, tied to regional identity, loyalty, and resentment toward a Manila-centered political order.

For many Mindanaoans, the Dutertes are not merely another dynasty. They are their dynasty.

Rodrigo Duterte made many Mindanaoans feel politically central in a country whose power, media, and cultural life have long been concentrated in Luzon.

An attack against Sara can therefore be heard as something larger than criticism of one politician. It can sound like another judgment from people in Manila who believe themselves more educated, sophisticated, and qualified to decide what is good for everyone else.

This is why insulting Duterte voters is not merely unkind. More crucially, it is politically destructive.

When people are told that their support for Sara proves they are stupid, immoral, or easily fooled, they are unlikely to reconsider their choice. They are more likely to conclude that Sara’s critics despise them.

If choosing Sara becomes a way to reject people who look down on them, criticism will likely only strengthen their loyalty.

Good vs. Strong

There may also be a more basic perception at work: Leni is good, but Sara is strong. This may be unfair and inaccurate, but voters who feel frightened, ignored, or angry may value force and decisiveness more than restraint. In such an environment, decency can be mistaken for weakness, and consultation for an inability to act.

The impeachment may reinforce her story.

It is not difficult to understand, then, how they might see the impeachment as an attempt by the Marcos administration and its allies to eliminate the strongest possible rival in 2028.

The credibility of her accusers is also part of the equation, after all. They see politicians with questionable records accusing another politician of corruption. They ask why Sara is being pursued while so many others escape scrutiny.

This does not make the allegations false. Accountability can be both politically advantageous and legally justified. But in a country where justice is often selective, it is easy for the accused to portray accountability as persecution. Once voters accept that story, every new allegation can become further proof of the conspiracy.

Perhaps they simply cannot believe us.

This would be the most unsettling possibility: that Sara’s supporters have heard everything her critics are saying, and that they simply can no longer believe the people saying it.

Many Filipinos distrust Congress, the Senate, mainstream media, universities, civil society, and the professional classes that dominate political discussion online.

Some of that distrust has been cultivated through disinformation. But not all of it.

Our institutions have often failed. Politicians invoke accountability selectively. “Educated” Filipinos can be condescending toward people who vote differently from them.

When institutions widely viewed as compromised accuse Sara of corruption, her supporters ask: Why should we believe you? Why are you investigating her and not the others? Why do you suddenly care about public money?

Those questions should not absolve Sara. But they expose the credibility problem of those trying to hold her accountable.

Facts do not travel by themselves. They travel through messengers. When the messenger is distrusted, even strong evidence can fail to persuade.

What message are we failing to convey?

The problem is not that the message is unclear. The problem is that our message is not answering the questions her supporters are asking.

Who will protect us? Who understands our anger? Who will stand up to the powerful? Who will make government respond? Who will fight for people like us?

Telling voters that Sara Duterte is bad does not answer these questions.

In other words, it is not enough to discuss confidential funds in the language of accounting rules and audit findings.

The issue must be connected to ordinary life.

While teachers bought classroom materials using their own money, why did the secretary of education need hundreds of millions in confidential funds?

While children struggled to read and schools lacked books, chairs, and toilets, what educational problem did those funds solve?

The point is not merely that rules may have been broken. The point is that Sara Duterte was entrusted with power and money that should have served ordinary Filipinos — and she failed. Not only can she not point to meaningful improvements in their lives or to the future of their children despite having all those resources — she cannot even explain where those funds went.

Our alternative must offer more

There is therefore a danger in making the next election entirely about stopping Sara Duterte.

A campaign built only around fear may consolidate those who already oppose her. But it will not attract those searching for strength, belonging, security, and hope.

People need a reason to vote for someone, not merely against Sara. Our alternative candidate must respond to the anger that made the Dutertes powerful in the first place.

He or she must acknowledge that many Filipinos feel abandoned by government, that the justice system protects the powerful, and that people are tired of leaders who speak beautifully while daily life remains difficult.

He or she must promise not merely cleaner institutions, but institutions that ordinary people can actually feel working for them.

Democracy cannot be only about rules and restraint.

Democracy must also deliver.

The survey results ultimately tell us less about Sara Duterte than about everyone opposing her.

They tell us that we have presented evidence without always explaining what it means in the daily lives of ordinary Filipinos.

We may have explained how she violated the law, but not who suffered as a result.

We may feel that we are defending democracy, but have failed to connect its tangible importance to people who feel unseen and powerless.

And too many of us have treated Duterte voters as a problem to be corrected rather than as fellow citizens whose choices need to be respected and understood.

So perhaps the question is not simply: Why do so many Filipinos still support Sara Duterte?

The harder and more useful question is: What does Sara Duterte promise — emotionally, culturally, and politically— that no democratic alternative has yet learned to provide?

Until we answer that, we can continue listing all the reasons she should never become president.

Her supporters may hear every word.

And they will vote for her anyway.