Raymund Narag’s FB post on his poignant critique of the Drug Dependency Evaluation (DDE) process in the Philippines exposes a deeply troubling reality: justice, for many, comes with a price tag. His post is not just a commentary but a call to conscience. The DDE, intended as a tool for rehabilitation, has morphed into a bureaucratic barrier that monetizes freedom and perpetuates suffering among the most vulnerable.
The mandatory nature of the DDE for Persons Deprived of Liberty (PDLs) who have already served their time is a glaring contradiction. These individuals, often victims of circumstance and poverty, are forced to pay for an evaluation that should be a public service. The fee, while seemingly modest, becomes insurmountable for those who have nothing. It’s a cruel irony: freedom delayed not by law, but by lack of funds.
Narag’s description of the DDE process, which is just a brief interview with no scientific rigor, raises serious questions about its legitimacy. If 98% of evaluations result in a “mild” classification, what purpose does the process truly serve? It appears less about assessing drug dependency and more about maintaining a revenue stream. This undermines the very principles of transformative rehabilitation and justice.
The Supreme Court’s directive to release PDLs who have served their sentence should have been a beacon of hope. Yet, in practice, it’s dimmed by bureaucratic inertia and misplaced priorities. The insistence on a DDE before release, despite legal clarity, reflects a system more concerned with procedure than people. It’s a tragic delay that costs lives, dignity, and trust!
What’s most heartbreaking is the human toll. Narag paints a vivid picture of PDLs begging, borrowing, and sacrificing just to afford a piece of paper that grants them what they’ve already earned: their freedom. This is not justice; it’s extortion! And it’s happening in plain sight, under the guise of due process!
The timing of the DDE is another critical flaw. Conducting it at the end of incarceration, often years after arrest, renders it meaningless. Addiction, if present, has likely faded, replaced by trauma and a yearning for redemption. Evaluating someone’s drug dependency after prolonged detention is not just ineffective but also absurd and preposterous!
Narag’s proposal to conduct the DDE at the point of arrest is both logical and humane. Early evaluation allows for proper diversion, ensuring that those who need help receive it, and those who don’t aren’t unnecessarily detained. It’s a shift from punishment to prevention, from incarceration to intervention.
The overcrowding in jails, with congestion rates soaring above 250%, is not a natural disaster but a policy and a system failure! The DDE bottleneck is a contributing factor, turning correctional facilities into holding pens for those who should be free. Reforming this process is not just about efficiency but also about restoring humanity to the justice system.
Yet, amid the bleakness, Narag offers hope. He highlights the quiet heroes: judges, paralegals, and legal aides, who defy the system’s inertia with compassion and courage. Their efforts are commendable, but they should not be the exception. The system must institutionalize their spirit, making justice accessible, timely, and free from financial barriers.
Ultimately, Narag’s post is a moral indictment of a system that has lost its way. The DDE must be free, timely, and scientifically sound. More importantly, those who have served their time must be released without delay. Justice should never be a toll booth but a bridge to healing, dignity, and peace.