The next two ASEAN chairs couldn’t hold more different approaches to drug policy. The Philippines, due to take the reins in 2026, is tentatively moving towards a harm reduction approach, albeit slowly. By contrast, Singapore, which will follow the Philippines into ASEAN’s top spot, is doubling down on its zero-tolerance prohibitionist approach. Which way the region will go could depend on the next few years and which chair gets the last word.

Years after Rodrigo Duterte’s drug war killed thousands — overwhelmingly poor citizens in tough urban environments — the government is tentatively exploring what it means to centre public health over punishment. Multisectoral summits. Agency consultations. In 2024, Senator Risa Hontiveros supported a bill that advocates for public health interventions for drug use, including harm reduction. Civil society is pushing for needle exchange programs and opioid agonist therapy. The language, at least, has shifted.

But before the Philippines can translate that language into policy, Singapore is drawing a line in the sand. 

In August 2025, Singapore’s Home Affairs Minister K. Shanmugam stood before the 46th ASEAN drug meeting and made his country’s position unambiguous. He proposed a joint ASEAN statement reaffirming the region’s commitment to a “drug-free ASEAN”, warning against “increasingly permissive attitudes towards drugs.”

As a founding ASEAN member with substantial diplomatic weight, Singapore’s vision matters, and the country is already making it clear what its policies will be.

Desire versus delivery

The Duterte years left scars that won’t fade quickly. Human rights groups continue documenting deaths from a campaign that openly encouraged extrajudicial killings of people who were even loosely associated to the drug trade. The ICC issued an arrest warrant for Duterte in March 2025 on crimes against humanity charges, and he was transferred to The Hague to face trial. Justice will hopefully be served to the thousands estimated to have been killed by police officers and vigilantes.

With the Duterte chapter coming to an end, the Philippines is looking to define its future vision for drug policy – and something has already shifted under President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. In 2024, agencies and civil society convened dialogues explicitly aimed at moving away from punitive practice and towards health-centred frameworks.

The reality on the ground remains deadly for common people who use drugs on the street, with the government still underestimating the number of those dead. The Dahas Project has been monitoring extra-judicial killings since the early Duterte years. They documented that 1,009 people were killed in “drug operations” in Marcos Jr.’s first three years of government, compared to 5,552 executed under Duterte – although this figure is likely to be higher. 

Local advocates are pushing hard. Public health physicians point out that the Philippines’ drug use prevalence—2.05% according to government data—has been consistently below the global average, yet the response has been disproportionately violent. Civil society groups are demanding a call to more compassionate measures, such as needle and syringe programmes, methadone maintenance, and naloxone distribution.

But the gap between rhetoric and reality remains wide. The Philippines has historically lacked institutionalised harm reduction infrastructure. What exists are pilots, consultations, and political signalling—not yet the nationwide legal protections and service rollout that would mark a genuine paradigm shift. 

Prohibition, prohibition, prohibition

Singapore has no interest in any paradigm shift. Its no-nonsense, drug policy is a point of national pride: strict enforcement, mandatory capital punishment for trafficking, zero tolerance for possession or use. 

“Singapore has adopted this ‘war on drugs’ approach for a long time, going as far as introducing the mandatory death penalty for drug trafficking in 1975,” explains Kirsten Han, a Singaporean journalist and social activist.

“The official narrative is that a strong deterrent is needed to curb the drug trade and keep Singapore safe. Whether this is genuinely what the political leaders believe or if it’s just a convenient political narrative to justify their power and control to police the population, I can’t really say. But the repeated narrative is that this deterrence has worked, and is key to why Singapore is safer than so many other countries.”

That narrative has been aggressively promoted regionally. Shanmugam’s August speech wasn’t just defensive posturing—it was an active diplomatic effort to pre-empt reform conversations. By proposing that ASEAN collectively reaffirm drug-free commitments at the international level, Singapore is attempting to lock in prohibitionist language into the region’s standard approach to substances before any other nation, like the Philippines, can consolidate alternative visions.

“Singapore also has a lot of sway in ASEAN because of our wealth and also gleaming international reputation as an advanced, modern, efficient nation,” Han notes. That influence matters. As a founding member with bureaucratic capacity and diplomatic relationships, Singapore shapes consensus language in ways smaller member states cannot easily counter. When Singapore chairs ASEAN, it controls agendas, frames discussions, and drafts statements.

The consensus trap

That structural power matters because of how ASEAN works. The “ASEAN Way” prioritises consensus, non-interference, and informality. In practice, this means regional policy reflects the lowest common denominator. If member states firmly oppose harm reduction language, that language doesn’t make it into joint declarations or work plans.

The current ASEAN Work Plan emphasises interdiction, prevention, and treatment in ways that favour criminal justice responses. Harm reduction, when mentioned at all, is relegated to narrow contexts — usually HIV prevention among people who inject drugs, not a broader public health framework. 

With the Work Plan expiring this year, a new strategy is needed. But while ASEAN’s sectoral bodies coordinate drug policy and issue regional statements, they have no enforcement power. Much like the UN, all they can do is set norms, signal priorities, and shape the diplomatic environment in which domestic policy debates happen.

That’s why Singapore’s push matters. If ASEAN formally reaffirms drug-free commitments in 2025, it creates normative pressure that reformers in the Philippines and elsewhere will have to work against. It makes harm reduction advocates appear out of step with regional consensus—even when that consensus is manufactured by powerful voices.

Regional contradictions in ASEAN’s drug policy

The irony is that ASEAN member states already diverge wildly in practice.

Malaysia pioneered pragmatic harm reduction in Southeast Asia, rolling out needle exchange programmes and methadone maintenance primarily to address HIV among people who inject drugs. National programmes have expanded over two decades, even as the country maintains punitive drug laws.

Indonesia introduced harm reduction pilots in the early 2000s on similar public health grounds. Community-based NSP and methadone services exist. But law enforcement remains aggressive, criminal penalties severe, and coverage limited relative to need.

Thailand’s cannabis decriminalisation—and the subsequent policy reversals—show how quickly reform can swing back. Initial liberalisation attracted tourism and business interest, then the government tightened regulations amid social concerns.

Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia provide very limited harm reduction coverage. Compulsory detention centres and punitive approaches remain common. Singapore and Brunei anchor the region’s most severe end: high punishment, capital sentences, uncompromising enforcement.

This heterogeneity should create space for diverse policy experiments. But ASEAN’s consensus model doesn’t reward experimentation. It rewards caution. When Singapore argues for drug-free commitments, it’s banking on the institutional tendency to avoid controversy by deferring to conservative positions.

The stakes

The next two years will determine whether harm reduction can move from national pilots to regional legitimacy. If the Philippines uses its ASEAN leadership to champion public health frameworks—inserting harm reduction language into post-2025 work plans, aligning regional statements with human rights standards—it could shift the discourse.

If Singapore successfully pre-empts that shift by locking in drug-free rhetoric, the policy window closes. And when Singapore takes over as ASEAN chair, any openings will likely narrow further.

For people who use drugs across Southeast Asia, the stakes are immediate. Will they have access to needle exchange programs that prevent HIV? Opioid agonist therapy that reduces overdoses? Naloxone that saves lives? Or will they continue to face criminalisation, detention, and violence? The answers depend on whether ASEAN can move beyond its own contradictions.  Whether the region as a whole can acknowledge it depends on the diplomatic battle now unfolding between two very different chairs—and whether consensus can be something more than the loudest voice in the room.