2.5 Betrayal and Sovereignty

Hack: March 2025, Manila, International Airport

On the night of 10–11 March 2025, an event occurs at Manila International Airport that proves significant for philosophical analysis not because of its political consequences, but because it exposes structures usually hidden behind the façade of institutional procedures. Former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte, returning from a private trip, is detained by law enforcement authorities on the basis of an arrest warrant issued by the International Criminal Court. Within hours, he is transported aboard an aircraft bound for The Hague, where he is to stand trial on charges of crimes against humanity.
The formal-legal framework of events contains no anomalies. The Philippines, having been a state party to the Rome Statute at the time of the actions attributed to Duterte, theoretically recognises the jurisdiction of the ICC. However, in 2019, the country withdrew from the agreement, and according to the norms of international law, is not obliged to execute warrants issued after its withdrawal. The decision of the incumbent president, Ferdinand Marcos Jr., to cooperate with the ICC and extradite his predecessor thus lies not in the domain of legal necessity but in the domain of political choice.
For the philosophical gaze, what is essential is not the motives for this choice (these may be the subject of political science analysis), but its structural characteristics. Marcos finds himself in a situation where he must make a decision whose consequences cannot be fully calculated and whose grounds cannot be fully rationalised. This decision concerns the fate of the man who brought him to power, and of the state whose sovereignty he formally represents. The choice before him can be described as existential in the strict sense: it determines not only the political conjuncture but also the mode of self-determination of the subject.

The Problem of Existential Choice

The concept of existential choice was developed in the philosophical tradition to describe situations in which the subject cannot rely on external criteria and is compelled to define himself through the decision itself. Kierkegaard contrasts the aesthetic and ethical modes of existence, showing that the transition between them is effected not through rational argumentation but through an act of choice that itself institutes its own grounds (Kierkegaard, 1983). Choice, for Kierkegaard, is not a choice between ready-made alternatives but a choice of oneself — a choice of whom the subject intends to be.
Sartre radicalises this intuition, asserting that "existence precedes essence": man first exists, appears in the world, and only then defines himself through his choices. There is no pre-given human nature, no moral law that can simply be applied. Man is "condemned to be free" — condemned because he cannot evade choice, and free because each of his choices is a choice of himself (Sartre, 2007).
In Marcos's situation, this structure manifests itself with extreme clarity. He cannot rely on legal norms (they are ambiguous), cannot rely on political tradition (it is contradictory), cannot rely on public opinion (it is divided). He must choose, and this choice will determine not only his political future but also who he is — a loyal ally or a pragmatic politician, a defender of national sovereignty or an agent of the global order.
It is important to emphasise: existential choice is not a choice between good and evil in the moral sense. It is a choice between different modes of existence, each with its own logic, its own price, its own truth. Marcos is not choosing between "good" and "bad" — he is choosing between different configurations of his own being.
Betrayal is traditionally thought of as a negative category — as a violation of loyalty, as a refusal of obligations, as a moral fall. However, phenomenological analysis allows us to see in betrayal not only a destructive but also a constitutive moment. In betraying, the subject does not merely destroy a connection with another — he affirms himself in a new quality.
Hegel, in the Phenomenology of Spirit, examines the problem of loyalty and betrayal in the context of the dialectic of master and servant, as well as in the analysis of the "beautiful soul," which cannot act because any action is a defilement of the purity of intentions (Hegel, 1977). Action, for Hegel, is always a renunciation of pure possibility in favour of finite determinacy, and in this sense, every action bears within it a moment of "betrayal" of the infinite.
Jean-Paul Sartre analyses betrayal as a form of relation to the Other. Betrayal, for Sartre, is an act by which the subject affirms his freedom at the cost of destroying the bond with the one who counted on him. It is not merely a violation of a promise but a mode of existence in which the Other is reduced to a means (Sartre, 1956).
In Marcos's situation, betrayal acquires additional dimensions. He betrays not merely an ally but the man who secured his rise to power. He betrays not merely a politician but an elderly man, the father of his vice-president, a member of an extended political family. This betrayal is multiple, layered, affecting different levels of obligation.
But simultaneously, this betrayal is an act of self-determination. Marcos chooses who he will be: one who remains in the shadow of his predecessor, or one who emerges into the light of independent action. The price of this choice is the destruction of a bond that seemed unbreakable. The cost is guilt, which will now remain with him forever.

The Problem of Voluntary Renunciation of Sovereignty

If Marcos's betrayal concerns personal relations, his decision to extradite Duterte to the ICC touches on the problem of state sovereignty. The Philippines, as noted, was legally obliged to execute the warrant. The decision to cooperate was voluntary.
Étienne de La Boétie posed the question that remains central to political philosophy: why do peoples tolerate tyranny? Why do they not overthrow the power that oppresses them? La Boétie's answer is paradoxical: because they want to. Because the habit of submission becomes second nature. Because freedom requires effort, while slavery requires only consent (La Boétie, 2008).
In the situation of the Philippines, we observe the reverse but structurally analogous situation: the state voluntarily renounces sovereignty, the right to defend its citizen (even a former one, even one accused of serious crimes) before an external jurisdiction. This renunciation is not forced, not prescribed, not inevitable. It is the result of a choice.
Carl Schmitt, in Political Theology, defined the sovereign as he who decides on the state of exception (Schmitt, 2005). Sovereignty manifests itself precisely in the capacity to act outside and above positive law when circumstances require it. Marcos, in deciding to submit to an external jurisdiction, renounces this sovereign prerogative. He chooses submission over decision.
One can interpret this choice in terms of recognition theory. Marcos, whose surname for decades was a symbol of dictatorship and the plundering of the country, needs legitimation. He wishes to be recognised — by the international community, by "civilised countries," by those who determine who is one of us and who is an outsider. The price of this recognition is the renunciation of sovereignty, the voluntary submission to norms established by others.
The Hegelian dialectic of recognition receives an unexpected development here. In the classical scheme, the struggle for recognition leads to the establishment of relations of mastery and servitude, which must then be overcome in the mutual recognition of free consciousnesses. Here, the subject (the state, the ruler) achieves recognition not through struggle but through submission. He is recognised precisely because he renounces sovereignty, demonstrates loyalty, fits into the established order.
The deepest paradox of the situation lies in the fact that betrayal, being a violation of loyalty to another, can be experienced as a form of loyalty to oneself. Marcos, in betraying Duterte, perhaps for the first time acts as an independent political subject, not as an heir, not as a protégé, not as a junior partner.
Sartre, in Being and Nothingness, analyses the phenomenon of "bad faith" — self-deception in which man renounces his freedom, attributing his actions to external circumstances, to a role, to social position. Bad faith is a flight from choice, an evasion of responsibility, a refusal to be the one who determines himself (Sartre, 1956).
Marcos, in the act of betrayal, on the contrary, assumes responsibility. He does not hide behind legal formulations, does not appeal to inevitability, does not shift the decision to others. He chooses — and by this choice affirms himself as a subject. The paradox is that this self-affirmation is accomplished through the destruction of the bond with the one who made this self-affirmation possible.
Kierkegaard's dialectic can be applied here as well. In Fear and Trembling, Kierkegaard analyses the sacrifice of Isaac as an act of faith that overrides the ethical in the name of the religious (Kierkegaard, 1983). Abraham is willing to kill his son not because it is ethically justified, but because such is the will of God, before which the ethical recedes. This is the "teleological suspension of the ethical" — a situation in which a higher end justifies the violation of moral norms.
Marcos, of course, is not Abraham. But the structure of his choice bears a formal resemblance: he suspends ethical obligations (loyalty to an ally, defence of his predecessor) in the name of a higher end — recognition, legitimation, entry into the "club." The only question is whether this end can be considered sufficiently high to justify the suspension of the ethical. And the answer to this question cannot be given from outside — it is decided by the very act of choice.
A particular dimension of the situation is added by Duterte's age. Seventy-nine is an age when the future shrinks to a minimum, when death ceases to be an abstract possibility and becomes the nearest horizon. Duterte may not live to see the end of the trial.
Heidegger, in Being and Time, analyses being-toward-death as a fundamental characteristic of human existence. Death, for Heidegger, is not an event at the end of life but the way in which Dasein exists. Being-toward-death is the awareness of finitude that tears man from the anonymity of everydayness and returns him to authentic existence (Heidegger, 1962).
Duterte, standing trial in The Hague, finds himself in a situation of extreme being-toward-death. He is being tried for actions committed years ago, but the verdict, if it follows, will have significance not so much for his life (which in any case is drawing to a close) as for his posthumous reputation, for his place in history, for the memory of him.
Marcos, sending Duterte to trial, makes a decision that affects not only the living man but also his afterlife. He assumes responsibility for how the figure of his predecessor will appear in the eyes of posterity. This decision has an existential depth extending far beyond the current political conjuncture.
Levinas insisted that the face of the Other manifests to us the commandment "thou shalt not kill." The face demands a response, demands responsibility, demands recognition (Levinas, 1969). The face of the old man being sent to trial is a face that continues to demand, even when it seems that everything is already decided. Marcos, in making his decision, must have seen this face — and either responded to its demand or turned away.
We do not know what he saw or how he responded. We know only the outcome.

From Politics to Existence

The situation of Duterte's arrest exposes the structure that usually remains in the shadows in political-philosophical discussions: the existential dimension of political choice. Behind legal procedures, behind diplomatic protocols, behind political calculations stands a man making a decision on which the fate of another man depends. And this decision is always also a decision about oneself.
Classical political philosophy, from Plato to Hobbes, from Machiavelli to Schmitt, analysed power, sovereignty, the state as objective structures obeying their own logic. But behind these structures there always stands a subject whose choice is not fully determined by any objective logic. And in moments of crisis, in moments of decision-making, this subject is exposed, appears in his existential nakedness.
Kierkegaard wrote that choice is not a calculation but a leap. There are no guarantees, no safety nets, no possibility of turning back. Having chosen, the subject becomes the one who made this choice, and cannot revoke it without revoking himself.
Marcos has made his leap. Where he has landed — time will tell. But the very fact of the leap, the very fact of a choice made under conditions of radical uncertainty, makes this situation significant for philosophical reflection. We see here not a political miscalculation or a stroke of luck, but an existential act — an act in which man defines himself through his relation to another, through the renunciation of loyalty, through the choice of recognition at the price of betrayal.
The situation of Duterte and Marcos exposes the fundamental structure that runs through many of the cases we have examined: the structure of a permanent conflict between loyalty and recognition, between connection with the other and self-affirmation, between ethics and existence.
In this conflict, there is always a fundamental tension. Tension between order, which demands loyalty, stability, preservation of bonds, respect for obligations. And the force that pushes toward rupture, toward self-affirmation, toward renunciation of everything that hinders being oneself.
Marcos finds himself at the point of this tension. Loyalty to Duterte means remaining in the shadows, being a continuation, not acquiring one's own face. Rupture with Duterte means betrayal, guilt, destruction of the bond — but also the possibility of being recognised by others, of entering another community, of affirming oneself.
Neither of these paths is unequivocally correct. Neither guarantees salvation. Neither is free from guilt and loss. The choice Marcos makes is not a choice between good and evil, but a choice between different configurations of existence, different ways of being oneself.
The old man flying away into the night on an aeroplane to The Hague, and the man who signed the warrant for his arrest, remain bound by this act forever. Their bond is destroyed — and simultaneously affirmed in its very destruction. This is a paradox that is not resolved but held — as memory, as guilt, as existential experience.