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People love Duterte for he keeps his promises

In the year that he has been president of the Philippines, Rodrigo Duterte has been called a murderer, a tyrant, a misogynist and a madman. And yet, according to some recent opinion polls, he inspires "much trust" in 80 per cent of Filipinos.

Duterte's supporters are sometimes pejoratively called "Dutertards." But are they simply naïve, and easy prey for demagoguery, propaganda and fake news? I don't think so.

For more than three years, I have been studying how democratic politics takes shape in post-disaster contexts - specifically in communities that were affected by Typhoon Haiyan. Haiyan was one of the strongest tropical storms ever to make landfall, and it killed more than 6,200 people.

Tacloban City, my field site, was ground zero for the cyclone. A city of about 240,000 people in the central part of the Philippines, it is a hub of commerce, trade, education and tourism in one of the country's poorest regions. I have talked to more than 250 residents, mostly in hazard-prone areas the government has declared "no-build zones," and many, while still reeling from the disaster, were energised when Duterte ran for the presidency, and when he won it. Tacloban may not be an exact snapshot of the entire country, but it reveals something important, and something beyond the merely anecdotal, about why communities living in precarious conditions value Duterte's leadership: He seems like a rare politician who doesn't forget about the people.

Consider Shirelyn, a gregarious mother of two in her 20s. When I first met her in 2014, she lived in a shanty made of driftwood and galvanised iron sheets. Her home had been washed away by the typhoon. Shirelyn worked odd jobs whenever her partner, a pedicab driver, failed to earn enough to support the family.

Last year, she chose to forego a few days' pay to campaign for Duterte when he was running for president. "This is the least I can do," she told me in April 2016, at the height of the race. Duterte was the mayor of Davao City when Haiyan struck, and he sent rescue operations to Tacloban at the time. "It's our turn to help him," said posters plastered around Tacloban during his presidential bid.

Six months into his term, Duterte's campaign promise "change is coming" materialised for Shirelyn. She and her family were relocated to the northern part of the city - to a house with concrete walls, a toilet, even a garden. Her new home brings to mind the aspirational middle-class gated communities of Manila, with their brightly painted welcome arches, rowhouse designs and picket fences.

"I knew Duterte would not forget," Shirelyn said. In November, I heard Duterte give a speech in Tacloban commemorating the third anniversary of Haiyan's landing. He promised to speed up relief assistance in the region, which had stalled. And he threatened to kill a government official he had put in charge of the effort if that official failed to move families into permanent disaster-proof homes fast enough.

In the same speech, Duterte also made a comment implying that he had ogled Vice President Leni Robredo's legs during cabinet meetings.

"What a pervert," I whispered to an old woman sitting next to me in the audience. "Let it go," she said. "He cared enough to be here."

Politicians in the Philippines are often viewed as opportunists who reach out to constituents while they are courting votes but disappear from view once in office. To Haiyan survivors, Duterte is different. Three years after the disaster, even since becoming president, he came to Tacloban. This sets him apart from his predecessor, Benigno S. Aquino, who once castigated survivors for complaining about their hardships instead of being grateful for still being alive. The paradox, of course, is that even as Duterte restores dignity to disaster victims who have felt neglected by the state, his administration is attacking other vulnerable communities, like suspected drug users and those around them.

Shirelyn showed me a notebook in which she had written down the promises Duterte made in his first address to the country as president. "I made a list so I won't forget," she said. "We know what we deserve." Duterte might get away with murder, but he won't get away with broken promises. -NYT Syndicate

Nicole Curato is a fellow at the Center for Deliberative Democracy and Global Governance at the University of Canberra