Lessons for the Philippines from Thailand’s war on drugs

Each day for the past six months, Philippine streets have run with the blood of an average 35 extra-judicial killings. President Rodrigo Duterte’s drugs war has so far delivered 6,000 extra-judicial deaths – more than the combined total for the previous 30 years – which included the brutal Ferdinand Marcos dictatorship. 
The only question that matters now is, will it succeed?
To answer that we must first ask what we mean by success. So far, no one has defined it. Even the magnitude of the problem to be resolved is unclear – ranging from the official estimate of 1.8 million drug users to Duterte’s estimate of 4 million. Complicating things further, the president declared his task would be accomplished within six months, but later adjusted that to one year, and has now readjusted to the end of his term. All this because he says he did not realise, when he started, how large the problem was.
Let us assume, then, that “success” in the war on drugs will be defined by Duterte when he gets around to it, but will involve some vague reduction in either the barangays (districts) involved or the number of users/pushers, which will be clarified in his own time. Okay?
So the next question is: Will this war on drugs be successful? 
If we take the obvious available precedent, the answer is a resounding “no”. 
Thailand conducted its first war on drugs in 2003, then conducted a second in 2008, and has gone on to a third, maybe even a fourth, drugs war. The result? Thai officials have themselves admitted defeat and are now seeking other solutions, which reportedly include partial decriminalisation.  
Let’s examine the Thai experience.
The first drugs war was declared in 2003 by prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra. Thaksin said it would be conducted for three months, but extended the time frame to eight months and then waged the war until he was eventually ousted in 2006. Does that sound familiar? Ninety per cent of the people supported the action, according a poll conducted at the beginning of the war. Sound familiar?
By most estimates, in the first three months of the campaign 2,800 people were killed, over half of whom had no links to the drugs trade. Sound familiar?
The authorities claimed that most of the killings were in self-defence. Sound familiar?
The violence was blamed on a government “shoot-to-kill” policy based on lists drawn up by the Thai equivalent of our barangay captains. Unfortunately the lists often contained the names of their political opponents. This may not sound familiar, but did you ever wonder where our “Tokhang” neighbourhood anti-drugs squads got their lists?
Two years later, in spite of the high rate of killings 74 per cent of Thais polled still supported the campaign – though 68 per cent thought it would be unsuccessful. (In Thailand, no one asked for a definition of success either.)
Thaksin claimed success, but the Palace did not agree, saying that the fight against drugs was far from over, and that Thaksin should also investigate drug-related deaths for human rights violations.
At the United Nations’ Special Session on the World Drug Problem last year, a senior member of the current Thai junta expressed his hopelessness. That means the Thai war on drugs continues to this day.
The UN office on Drugs and Crime Data estimates that, between 2008 and 2012, the number of methamphetamine labs operating in Thailand increased from two to 193.
Back to the Philippines. Even if we achieve “success” (which is doubtful), the drugs war will still have severe negative long-term impacts. It will trigger the return, or at least the reinforcement, of a culture of impunity, particularly among the police force, while also isolating the police and military from those who they are meant to serve – the people. In other words, years of greater authoritarianism and erosion of civil rights.   
Is it worth it?