The problem isn’t Pulong or even the whole Duterte dynasty. It’s the voters who keep jumping into the croc zone.
Power, as the cliché goes, corrupts. At times, power doesn’t merely corrupt — it headbutts people down a flight of stairs, threatens to kill them, and then hands them a few thousand pesos for their trouble.
This is not some cautionary tale from Zamboanga Sibugay, where a foolish man leapt into a crocodile pen and got exactly what Darwin would have predicted. In Davao, the plunge into the jaws of political predators is a civic ritual, performed every election cycle with unnerving enthusiasm since the 1980s. Voters have been conditioned to believe that choosing those who abuse others is a declaration of freedom, of independence.
One need only look at Paolo “Pulong” Duterte, the representative of Davao’s 1st District, to see how this thrives. He and his siblings are the personification of Duterte dynastic politics.
Allegedly, Pulong beat someone senseless in a bar, tossed out a few P1,000 bills afterward, and strutted off as though it were routine.
Based on a sworn statement, Inquirer.net reported that the alleged victim was threatened and assaulted over a payment for one of the women he had been asked to bring to a bar in Obrero, Davao City.
From the second floor, Duterte allegedly hurled curses, and the 37-year-old man was prevented from leaving by bodyguards who shut the doors. What followed was nearly two hours of beatings while the man pleaded for mercy. Duterte, the complainant alleged, threatened to kill him. He was subsequently handed money — a thousand pesos per blow.
Such a narrative paints a clear picture of impunity, where power and violence sleep in the same bed.
Pulong brushed the matter aside, claiming it happened “a very long time ago,” as though the moral weight of assault depreciates like a used car. But the complaint, filed on May 2, points to February 23 — around 10 weeks ago. One wonders: how recent must brutality and abuse be before it counts?
Pulong didn’t deny it. He said his lawyers were still “authenticating” the video’s source or the video itself. That’s right — he needs a team of attorneys to figure out whether it was him rearranging someone’s face.
After this bar thuggery, was there public outrage? Demands for accountability? None of that. The city hasn’t risen in protest. The Duterte political machinery continued unbothered. There was no fallout. No protests. No Davaoeño uprising against thuggery in public office. Pulong simply deferred to Davao voters, confident that his supporters, like battered fans at a boxing match, will cheer louder next round. He didn’t express remorse, merely relying on the belief that reelection is moral absolution.
This speaks to a society that repeatedly dives into the enclosures of political predators. Voters do so not out of ignorance, but with bizarre pride, convinced that choosing an abuser proves something noble.
“It’s our right!” they say. Damn right. It’s also their right to lick batteries and call it a snack. Sure, they can eat paint chips and call it a salad. That doesn’t make it smart.
Rights don’t guarantee wisdom. And so we see people voting for people who threaten, insult, and abuse others. Then they express dismay when the inevitable consequences hit. Did they not know that the political thugs of Davao have sharp teeth? Have they forgotten the Duterte name is built on bloodshed, intimidation, and executions? What did they expect in return?
This is the tragic comedy of Philippine democracy, most grotesque in Davao City. It’s the deluded belief that freedom means the right to be wrong, loudly and repeatedly, with no consequence. These days, voters no longer choose leaders to improve their lives. They vote as if flipping a middle finger at the establishment. Hope has been replaced by spite.
Let’s drop the pretenses. The Dutertes make up a huge chunk of the establishment — the worst part of the country’s political power structure. They didn’t stumble into power — they paved the road, built the swamp, stocked it with creatures, and taught people to call it home. And the public? They’ve learned to breathe the rot and call it fresh air.
Every time someone fills in Pulong’s or the Duterte name, they’re not challenging the system — they’re fueling it. They’re hugging the creature and offering it dessert.
Choice, like a weapon or a vote, is morally neutral. It gains meaning only through its use. In Davao, choice has been weaponized for submission. It extends a ruthless political dynasty, rewards brutality, and turns ballots into tools of entrenchment. The vote is no longer for emancipation there. It has become a love letter to those who keep the public in chains.
What’s tragic is that many voters think they’re being strong, patriotic, or loyal. In truth, they’re playing roles in a political pageant, where politicians like Pulong need not pretend to be decent. In Pulong’s case, he only needs to remind people he’s a son of Rodrigo Duterte. His surname — soaked in mythology and menace — outweighs any platform.
When the city or country gets chewed alive, they’ll say, “But it was our choice.” Yes, it is — just like jumping into the crocodile pen in Zamboanga Sibugay.
Democracy doesn’t mean people get it right. It means they get what they asked for, even if it’s a nightclub bouncer with a god complex, parading around like an arrogant prince who graduated summa cum laude from Thug University.
Pulong, like every other Duterte, doesn’t campaign on good ideas. He runs on his surname like it’s a fast-food brand, and in Davao, that seems to be enough. That’s the whole pitch: “Hi, I’m my father’s son. Vote for me, or else.” (Prepare for a dental realignment.)
Now, give the devil its due — Alay, the crocodile from Zamboanga Sibugay, had “dignity.” It didn’t stage rallies, hand out cash, pose for selfies, or mumble motherhood statements about public service. It was a crocodile. It did what crocodiles do — bite, drag, and digest. No lies. No press statements.
Pulong? He can punch a man’s teeth out, throw him some crumpled bills like a lousy tipper in a gentleman’s club, and still get worshipped like the second coming of Lapu-Lapu. The crowd won’t even blink. They’ll chant “DU-TER-TE! DU-TER-TE!” like it’s a spell to ward off critical thinking. Then they’ll vote for him again, as if the abuse were a love language.
This is civic self harm and a democratic death spiral dressed up like a fiesta for fools.
The problem isn’t just Pulong. It isn’t even the whole Duterte dynasty. The real problem is a voting population that learned to applaud while being devoured piece by piece. It’s the voters who keep jumping into the croc zone. Pastilan. (reposted by davaotoday.com)
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