AS 2026 dawns, I had briefly considered stepping away from my usual rhythm of dissecting geopolitical decay and institutional autopsies. Having spent six of my eight decades confronting the machinery of bad governance, a certain occupational fatigue has set in. I once believed the martial law era was the pinnacle of predatory rule, never imagining such a state of affairs could be replicated. I was mistaken; history, it seems, has no aversion to a bad sequel, as evidenced by the son’s incumbency.

The current deluge of flood control scandals and the unbridled greed of public servants — who appear incapable of moderating their systemic looting — has left me intellectually exhausted. For the coming year, I intend to recalibrate. This is not a retreat, but a shift in perspective. I will let local infamies simmer until justice is served or a political reset occurs.

While year’s end usually invites hollow resolutions, I prefer the risk of prediction — not of markets, but of political trajectories. I focus on two men who steered democracies toward spectacle: Donald Trump and Rodrigo Duterte.

My prediction: Trump, increasingly unmoored and erratic, will be forced from the presidency before his term concludes. Meanwhile, Duterte, currently awaiting his reckoning in The Hague, will never see Philippine shores again. He is destined to spend his final days on foreign soil, a fading shadow of a decaying legacy.

Parallel paths of erosion

I begin the year by examining two figures who have shaped my geopolitical and local commentary: Donald Trump and Rodrigo Duterte. Though hailing from different hemispheres, their political architectures are eerily similar. Both rose to power by treating the rule of law as an inconvenience and institutional limits as optional.

Trump, America’s theatrical legal liability, and Duterte, Davao-bred architect of “shoot-first governance,” both represent a distinct pattern of democratic erosion. Their impact on their respective nations is not just a passing phase but an indelible stain on the political fabric.

This critique is not aimed at their followers — MAGA or DDS — but at the leaders’ shared imprudence. When heads of state transform institutions into mirrors of their own ego, accountability fractures. Whether it manifests as comedy or tragedy, the result is the same: democracy quietly hollows out from within.

Authoritarian by accident, felon by verdict

Trump treated his presidency like a reality show that never stopped filming. What started as a branding move ended in a long list of legal battles. He is the first US president to become a convicted felon, having been found guilty of 34 counts of falsifying business records in New York.

Beyond that, he was found liable for sexual abuse and defamation and faces charges for trying to overturn the 2020 election and mishandling classified documents. While he claims these legal troubles are just unfair attacks for “loving America,” the records tell a different story. He has managed to bridge the gap between commander-in-chief and criminal defendant, spinning serious felony charges as if they were a badge of honor.

Trump’s authoritarianism is not ideological. It is incidental. It is what you get when a man with no respect for rules is handed an office built entirely on rules. He didn’t seek to dismantle democracy on purpose; he just didn’t think the rules applied to him.

This behavior did real damage. He turned basic facts into political food-fights and made people lose faith in elections. Instead of following the law, he governed through personal grievances and demanded total loyalty. He treated the Constitution like a suggestion rather than a boundary. In the end, he behaved like an autocrat not because he studied history — he is history-illiterate — but because he followed his own unchecked instincts, leaving the country more divided and cynical about the truth.

Authoritarian by design, now in The Hague

Duterte is a different strain of strongman. While Trump used chaos, Duterte used cold, calculated methods. He is currently under International Criminal Court custody for “crimes against humanity” in connection with the thousands of deaths in his war on drugs. Unlike leaders who use metaphors, Duterte’s public calls for violence were treated as official policy.

If Trump chipped away at democracy, Duterte took a chainsaw to it. He turned fear into a tool of the state, using the police and bureaucracy to normalize the killing of suspects without trial. Under his rule, neighborhoods became crime scenes.

The main difference is efficiency: Trump’s mistakes often slowed him down, but Duterte’s competence made his authoritarianism faster, deadlier and immediate. Even so, he remained popular. He convinced many that “strong leadership” meant a government that could act as judge, jury and executioner before breakfast.

Similar deadly styles

Trump and Duterte both weakened the systems meant to keep leaders in check. Trump attacked the courts and the press, while Duterte targeted human rights groups and the judiciary. Both demanded personal loyalty over the law, valuing their own authority more than legal rules.

They also used fear to control the public. Trump focused on outsiders and national decline, whereas Duterte focused on crime. By creating their own versions of reality and questioning facts, both leaders convinced people to fear external threats more than the loss of their own democratic rights and freedoms.

Strongman paradox, flourishing even when failing

The tragedy of modern strongmen isn’t just that they rise, but that they never truly leave. Even after losing elections or facing legal trouble, leaders like Trump and Duterte remain powerful figures. They survive by creating an illusion of order. Trump provides emotional order, where his followers feel like winners in a world of conspiracies. Duterte offers physical order, using intimidation and violence to make the streets feel “safe.”

One comforts his base with theories, the other with force. Both convince their supporters that democracy is actually safer in the hands of a leader who doesn’t respect it. They turn their personal power into a permanent part of the political landscape.

Legacy of weakened institutions

The true legacy of Trump and Duterte is a landscape of damaged institutions and broken civic trust. In the US, election faith has eroded and political violence has increased. In the Philippines, state-sponsored killings have become an accepted tool of power. Both nations are now struggling with a culture where the rules of democracy have been fundamentally altered.

Trump weakens democracy through constant falsehoods and spectacle, while Duterte erodes it through force and coercion. One acts through improvisation, the other by deliberate design. Despite these different methods, both lead their countries toward a lack of accountability.

Their rule serves as a warning: Democracies cannot survive when citizens trade their rights for performance or fear. While the institutions might still stand, the civic spirit required to sustain them has been deeply wounded. The cost of their leadership isn’t found in their speeches, but in the lasting damage done to their countries’ political fabric.

Trump and Duterte prove that democracy is fragile. Whether through spectacle or force, they convince citizens to trade accountability for the illusion of order. Their lasting legacy is a wounded civic culture where fear often outweighs the rule of law.