[Rowe] Manila City Jail, the Philippines.
One of the most overcrowded prisons in the world.
The government's controversial war on drugs
has pushed its inmate population to the brink.
Drugs, drugs again, murder.
-You've been in prison ten times. -Yeah.
Five thousand men are crammed into this prison
built for just 1,200.
I cannot believe what I am seeing.
I mean, I'm lost for words, to be honest.
With only one guard for every 400 inmates,
parts of this penitentiary are run by criminal prison gangs.
I don't want my children to be victims of these people.
My name's Raphael Rowe,
and I'm spending a week locked up in this packed jail
alongside notorious criminal gangs,
who just, six months ago, went on a murderous rampage, killing rivals.
[in Tagalog] What I saw was really like war.
But it's not my first time behind bars.
I was convicted in the UK of a murder I did not commit,
and sentenced to life with no parole.
It took me 12 long years to clear my name.
Now I'm traveling the globe
to discover what life is really like
inside some of the world's toughest prisons.
[dark, percussive music]
Manila, the Philippines.
This country is gripped by a drugs epidemic
that has led to a huge crime wave and gang wars.
-[officer] Your son? -[woman sobs]
President Rodrigo Duterte rode to power
on a murderous promise to deal with the drug problem
by killing producers, dealers, and users.
[in English]
Tonight, I'm heading out on a drugs raid
with one of the frontline units
mercilessly prosecuting
the president's war on drugs.
I'm inside the Philippines Drug Enforcement Agency's headquarters,
and as you can see behind me, their operatives are getting ready
to go out on an operation.
Their target: a suspected drug dealer.
[brooding music plays]
How big a problem is drugs here in the Philippines?
Uh, prior to the assumption of the president right now,
this is a major national problem.
But as of now, I think we are winning the war.
That's what we're doing right now.
-And you consider it a war. -Oh, yeah, it's a war.
It's a war against humanity, a war against mankind.
The target is in a poor shantytown in East Manila.
-[agent 1 over radio] Now. -[agent 2] Go.
-[agent 1] Go. Keep going. Go. -[agent 2] Go.
[agent 1] Let's go!
[dogs barking]
I think they've arrived at their destination.
[dog barking]
[Rowe] The suspect is a young pregnant woman with a child.
[tense music playing]
[woman in Tagalog] That is not mine!
[Rowe] They've found something.
[woman in Tagalog] Please have mercy on me. Have mercy on me!
-[Rowe] Looks like drugs… -[woman crying]
…inside little packages of what I suspect is meth.
[woman in Tagalog] I am not a drug pusher.
Crystal meth, a powerful stimulant,
is the drug of choice for many poor Filipinos
who use it to work longer hours to survive.
-[woman sobbing] -She's absolutely distraught
and hasn't stopped crying.
And the only word I can make out from her is "baby."
[child wailing]
[woman sobbing]
And she must know that her kid is going to be taken away.
This woman, who is a suspected drug dealer,
knows her fate…
is going to be prison.
[brooding music fading away]
[tense music plays]
This woman, like countless others arrested every day for drugs here,
will be sent to one of Manila's jails.
And I'm heading to the toughest of them all, Manila City Jail,
to spend a week as a prisoner.
Since coming to power in 2016,
the government claim Duterte's war on drugs
has taken over 500 million US dollars'
worth of narcotics off the streets,
and made over 160,000 arrests.
This hardline purge has swollen
the already overcrowded prison population to breaking point.
What scares me more than anything
is the fact that there is only one guard for 400 prisoners.
How do you protect prisoners from the threat of violence?
I'm told it's the prisoners who protect the prisoners.
I don't know what to expect when I get into this prison.
[ominous music plays]
[horn honks]
[gate creaking]
Manila City Jail was built for 1,200 inmates,
but it's now crammed with almost 5,000 prisoners.
[guards speaking Tagalog]
-Here? -[man yells indistinctly]
-[guard] Your name? -Raphael Rowe.
To me.
Up your hands. Like this.
This is a first, being searched out in the open.
What's the stamp for?
-[guard] To identify you as a PDL. -[Rowe] A PDL?
Persons deprived of liberty.
These stamps now define me as a person deprived of liberty.
[woman] Right index.
They're taking my biometrics.
You may proceed now.
[Rowe] A distinctive color, isn't it?
"Changing lives and building a safer nation."
I wonder what that actually means.
-[camera beeps] -Once processed by the prison,
I'm handed over to inmates, not guards, who'll take me to my cell.
[indistinct chattering]
[Rowe] It's heaving. There's so many men
in these yellow T-shirts that I'm wearing.
Like a beehive.
It's packed.
Not just with prisoners,
but also their visiting families as well.
[boy giggles]
I'm being sent to Dorm 4,
where all new prisoners are sent for assessment
before being allocated a final cell.
I'm led upstairs to my new quarters.
[indistinct chattering]
I--I cannot believe what I am seeing.
I mean, I'm lost for words, to be honest,
of the space that I'm in and the amount of men that are squeezed into this space.
Because this place is chronically overcrowded.
Something I've never seen before.
[brooding music plays]
Oh, here?
I'm sent to the back of the block, where I'll be sleeping tonight,
and meet my new cellmates.
-How are you doing? I am Raphael. -J.R., and…
-T.J. -[Rowe] T.J., Raphael.
-Ading. -[Rowe] Ading.
What was you convicted and sentenced to?
Um…
Drugs.
How long did you get sent to prison for?
Seven months.
[Rowe] Been in prison before?
[J.R.] It's my first time here.
What's your drug of choice?
-Meth. Yeah. -Meth.
[Rowe] Have you been sent to prison because you were caught using drugs?
-Yeah. -[Rowe] Not selling drugs?
-Was you selling them--? -Not selling.
-Just using. -Just using.
I don't feel like I'm in a prison. I feel like I'm inside a cattle cage.
[in Tagalog] We cannot do anything but endure our situation now.
There's 400 men in this crowded dorm,
so I'm relying on J.R. to show me the ropes.
Can you give me a tour? I want to know how things work here.
Yeah. Okay. Yeah, come on.
[Rowe] We can walk anywhere we want to right now.
[J.R.] Yeah.
Everywhere I look, there are prisoners.
There's no free space at all.
This is the written rules inside the Dorm 4.
You can see "patakaranan ng Dorm 4,"
meaning "respect all the hierarchy of Dorm 4."
-[Rowe] Prison governors. -[J.R.] No, they're all prisoners.
[Rowe] High-ranking prisoners.
-Yes. -Oh, right. Okay.
-These are the written rules? -Yeah, written rules.
What are the unwritten rules?
[J.R.] If you get bump to the visitors,
you will get um, 50 slap of the paddle.
-From the what? Paddle, like a stick? -Paddle, yes.
You mean a visitor's walking, and you bump in like that?
-Yeah. -Accidentally?
[J.R.] Accidentally. Also… No questions at all.
Okay, 50?
Oh, just like this kind of wood.
[Rowe] And they beat the back of your legs. How hard?
Okay.
-[Rowe] Fifty? -[J.R.] Fifty.
-By the prisoners? -Yeah.
[Rowe chuckles] I felt that.
It's astonishing that the rules are not only written by the inmates,
but the punishments are dished out by the prisoners, too.
[gate creaks]
It's 10:00 p.m., and we're all locked in for the night,
crammed into the dormitory like sardines.
[Rowe] How would we sleep
in a space that is not big enough for the amount of men
that are being kept here?
[in Tagalog] Lie down.
[J.R.] They sleep just like that.
[speaks Tagalog]
Like this.
Why you got your leg over him?
[J.R.] To get some space with…
[in Tagalog] To survive here, you have to learn to get along with others.
[sorrowful music plays]
I'm shocked by the situation
and the inmates' acceptance of it.
[Rowe] "We've got to survive," they say.
"We got no choice," they say.
And the fucking reality is, they don't.
It only takes one or two guys to say, "I've had enough.
I'm not gonna stand for this. We've got to riot
because this is not what we should be treated like,
regardless of what I've done."
That bothers me.
[crickets chirping]
[upbeat music plays]
It's my second day in one of the most overcrowded prisons in the world.
I'm put straight to work with the sweeping crew,
made up entirely by members of the prison's LGBTQ community,
who have chosen to do this work together.
[Akashi] LGBT community! LGBT community!
-Hi. -Hi. I'm Raphael.
-I'm told-- -I'm Akashi.
-What's your name? -Akashi.
Akashi.
Akashi, I've been that I've got to work with you and your gang of cleaners today.
You show me. I'll follow.
You sweep the floor.
-Sweep… On my own? With who? -You sweep the floor.
-To across there? -Other girls, make a line.
-Um… -Sweep the floor.
[indistinct chatter]
[inmate] Sweep the floor.
[Rowe] How long have you been in here?
-[Kenneth] Been here three months. -[Rowe] And what's that for?
I'm involved in drugs.
Oh. Are you convicted or on remand?
First convicted.
-Yeah, first convicted. -Huh?
First convicted.
-You as well? First convicted? -[Akashi] Yeah, she too.
How long?
Two years.
-You've been here two years? -Yeah.
So who's your partner?
-[in Tagalog] My beshy. -Oh, you two are partners.
Just like me, confidently beautiful with a heart.
-[Akashi] Yeah. -Like that.
[Akashi laughs]
Who should I give this back to?
[Akashi] Thank you.
Sweeping over,
I'm called to meet counselor Hannah Nario-Lopez.
As a new prisoner, she must decide which dorm I'll be moved to
for the rest of my time here.
Hi. Hey, Raphael. I'm Hannah.
First, she questions me about my family support network.
I would like to know more about your family.
Were you raised by your parents?
How was your relationship with your siblings?
I was raised by my parents. I do have siblings, um,
and our relationship is very healthy and good.
-Do they know that you're here? -They do know I'm here.
Do prisoners normally respond to these types of inquiries?
'Cause I suppose prying into their history,
which… It can make them quite defensive.
We do understand that.
So we ask their experience about their past,
educational attainment,
substance abuse problems.
This information should enable the prison
to decide suitable rehabilitation for me.
Given that this prison is so overcrowded,
how can I be confident that anything I ask for,
you can provide?
We try to do our best to invite, you know, external help.
That's one of the problems,
'cause officers here are also severely undermanned,
and they really rely on the shared governance
and the understanding that we have
uh, with the PDLs.
So, the prisoners have control over other prisoners?
That's what shared governance is.
I'm not gonna call it control.
It's more of accountability.
Each dorm has a mayores,
uh, or their gang leader, their pangkat leader.
But here in the Philippines, the pangkat, or the gang,
is actually a positive implement
of an alternative structure of governance.
The mayores makes sure
that everybody follows the rules of the jail.
But that can be abused. Even by prisoners?
-Yes. -You give a prisoner the power…
We're not going to deny that. But what can we do right now?
The cooperation between inmate and officer is very important,
since we're severely undermanned,
and the moment that an inmate, a PDL,
um, you know, causes some sort of disorder--
-Could trigger something bigger. -It could trigger something bigger.
That shocked me.
I've never heard of a prison
that relies officially on the inmates to police themselves.
Traditional gangs
have a hierarchy
of the kingpin, the don, the main gangster.
And then you have all the following ranks beneath that.
So, I wonder if what's happening here
is that traditional gang mentality and culture,
or whether there is something completely different going on.
After their daily chores are completed,
the inmates are free to socialize and hustle for the money they need
to buy essentials,
like extra food to survive.
Some inmates even have little businesses.
They seem to sell anything and everything.
Even these clothes are on the floor for sale.
They're selling lumps of coal,
which I suspect prisoners use to burn, to cook.
Thanks to the courts being overwhelmed by the avalanche of drug charges,
most of the 5,000 prisoners here
are actually on remand.
Many will serve years before they get their day in court.
[in Spanish] How are you?
Hans was one of a group charged with beating to death a fellow student
in an initiation ritual that went wrong.
[inaudible]
Before I was confined, I was a law student.
[in English] Oh, right.
-You spend most of your time in this-- -Yeah.
How long have you been in this dormitory?
-[Hans] Almost two years. -[Rowe] Two years?
-So you are not convicted. -I'm not convicted.
And I'm innocent.
Why has your trial not taken place?
Our case is actually running pretty much faster
than a regular case.
I wouldn't call two years fast.
The last mayores was in here for 14 years.
He was eventually acquitted.
-So he spent 14 years in prison. -Yeah.
Do your family believe that you wasn't involved?
Yeah. They visit me here almost every weekend.
They come here, and they visit me. They bring food,
so at least I may taste food outside jail.
-Are you part of the gang culture here? -No.
Uh, they labeled me as a querna.
When you say a PDL is a querna…
querna is someone who is not affiliated to any gang.
Right, okay.
What's the benefits of being in a gang, then?
Oh, you have… you have a support system.
I believe I don't need that support from the gang.
So for those who don't have family bringing food
and money and stuff to help you,
they get it from their fellow gang members.
It's like, uh… it's like joining a community.
Inside a gang, they, um… What do you call this?
They have their own, uh… they have their own fund.
They have their own programs, their own projects.
What's expected of those gang members, then?
Are they expected to do things in return for those rewards?
Yeah.
Uh, the gang has their own Magna Carta.
They have their own rules.
So, if you follow those rules, you would get incentives.
And if not, you will get disciplinary action from them.
What's the worst disciplinary action?
Uh…
-Can I say that? [chuckles] -That's up to you, if you want to.
Okay, from what I observe,
uh, you're gonna get, um… you're gonna get beaten.
If your co-gang member
uh, had done something bad to a member of another gang,
we will put a disciplinary action on our--
We will discipline him rather than it become a war between different gangs.
So, in a way, that becomes a way for keeping the peace here in jail.
[Rowe] Okay.
Hans is lucky.
He has money, so he doesn't have to rely on the gangs to support him.
But everything I'm hearing so far is pointing to the fact
that it's the gangs who are really in charge of this prison,
not the guards.
Tomorrow, I'm being moved to a new cell block,
and I'm nervous about what awaits me.
[ominous music plays]
It's moving day,
when we'll be transferred to the cells
where we'll spend the rest of our sentence.
-How are you doing? You good? -How are you?
Is everybody waiting for the guards to come and tell them where they're going?
[J.R.] Yes.
I have a symbol here, Bahala Na gang,
so it's okay if I go to Bahala Na gang dorm.
Is that where you hope to go?
Yes.
[in Tagalog] I know a lot of people in the Bahala Na gang.
Many of them are my childhood friends.
When did you first become one of the gang members?
[in English] When I get caught, January 20,
I see one of the prisoners in a police station.
[in Tagalog] Um, I knew him. He was my neighbor.
So to get privileges in prison, I joined the gang.
-They look after you. -Yes.
What do you have to do in return?
[in Tagalog] If have visitors with…
[in English] So food and money, I will give them.
Bahala Na is one of the four big criminal gangs in the Philippines,
operating both outside and inside the prison.
And although J.R. may have joined for protection,
there's no guarantee he'll end up in the dorm controlled by them.
[Joz in Tagalog] Take your belongings.
[J.R.] Right hand, right shoulder. Just follow.
The prison authorities decide which cells prisoners are sent to.
But the men collecting us are gang bosses, known as mayores,
from our new dorms.
[Joz in English] Sit down. Align yourself.
[J.R.] Sit here.
Dorm 8, Raphael Rowe.
-Raphael Rowe? -Yes.
[Joz in Tagalog] You'll go with Cordero. Cordero!
I've been allocated to Dorm 8, run by the Bahala Na gang,
but it doesn't look like J.R. is being sent there.
You have to see the worry on his face, actually, that he's not been called yet.
You're not going to Dorm 8?
He's not called you?
-I don't think so. -No?
-I don't know. -Okay.
-Good luck, man. -Good luck, man.
[Joz in Tagalog] Let's go. Let's go now.
I'm led into Dorm 8,
home of the notorious Bahala Na gang, who ironically
run much of the drug crime that put many of the men in here.
Once inside, the gang leader spells out the rules to all of us new inmates.
[Arsenio in Tagalog] Comrade. What is the only thing that we ask of you?
Behave as a person so that we will not have a problem.
If you are carrying a heavy problem with our comrades or with other groups,
you inform me as mayores,
and we will act on it.
Do you understand, fellow inmates?
Love, brotherhood, that is all that matters now.
[Rowe] I've never come across that before.
They've been given the responsibility to control each other.
And they keep going on about this respect and discipline,
something that they've come up with themselves.
There are no prison guards
in this dormitory.
[indistinct chattering]
The rules seem to be saying, "We're a brotherhood,
and this place is run by a gang."
I haven't even had a chance to see my new cell
before Arsenio puts me to work.
Hey. Good evening. My name is Roger.
[in mixed English and Tagalog] Can you help me to help in the kitchen?
[Rowe] Okay.
I'm joining Roger's team of kitchen porters.
They collect food for Dorm 8
from the central prison kitchens three times a day.
I'm picking up the rice, and apparently, there's strict portion control.
Start counting per one people…
-[Rowe] Right. -…300 grams.
[Rowe] Three hundred grams. What else?
[in Tagalog] At lunch…
[in English] rice and one piece chicken.
Okay.
[Roger] Can you…
[Rowe] Oh, I've got to do the heavy lifting. Of course.
Damn, this is heavy, man. Oh!
We carry the food back for all the waiting prisoners in my dorm.
[man clamoring]
[inmates chattering indistinctly]
[sighs]
When I was carrying the rice, the only thing on my mind
was not the weight. It was tripping over and spilling it so no one would get fed.
So I was quite nervous.
Is there a budget for all of the cooking?
[Roger] Seventy-five pesos, one person.
[Rowe] So it's about one dollar, 20 cents. Per person. Every day.
[Roger] Every day.
With so little food and so many men,
we have to weigh out the portions very carefully,
so no one is left without at the end of the line.
[Roger] Over.
-Over. -[Roger] 300 grams.
Good.
[Rowe] Okay.
Where is the vegetables?
-[Roger] Chop suey. -[Rowe] Where? Okay.
Okay, you're welcome.
Thank you.
-Thank you, my friend, Raphael. -Yes. Okay.
With the rice dished out, I'm joining cell boss Arsenio
to find out if it really is true
that it's his gang, not the guards, in charge here.
[meows]
How does this place work?
Because you don't have any prison guards here.
[Arsenio in English] We maintain discipline,
because they obey our rules.
Gang leaders, they must obey me.
Rules and regulations in this dorm.
And if they don't?
We give them sanctions.
We have, uh, many sanctions, to clean around,
uh, starting the morning up to the evening.
[Rowe] If they don't follow the rules, they get sanctioned.
If they did not obey…
uh, we can bring them to the office of the BJMP.
Okay.
And…
[in Tagalog] they take care of it. They will…
[in English] They are the one who will discipline that person.
But criminal gangs aren't known for being benevolent
to members who don't toe the line.
Other prisoners are scared of the gang leaders because of the violence.
Maybe the past gang leaders.
We help each other, especially when there is hate
or there is a problem about their family.
[in Tagalog] We can also help financially.
Even outside, our fellow inmates or gangmates…
[in English] they help us.
[Rowe] I'm starting to discover that the context of gang
is very different here.
There are no prison guards in this dormitory monitoring,
supervising, or disciplining these prisoners.
They do it themselves.
But precisely because of this control,
there's nowhere to hide for the inmates.
If anything,
it could be harder than when the authorities are in charge.
Tomorrow, I want to find out what it means
for the average prisoner when the gangs are king.
It's nearly 10:00 p.m.,
time for me to head to my cell.
Like in my first dorm, all the men who don't have gang rank or money
to buy space sleep on the floor.
I can sit here?
Janard is the night watchman.
He does this job for Arsenio,
as he doesn't have any money to pay the gang.
And can anybody sleep wherever they want to sleep,
or is everybody in their space and that's their space?
[in Tagalog] Me. I'm the one who decides where they stay.
Is there any space on the floor for any new person?
There's still a few spaces.
Looks like every inch of space is taken up by somebody sleeping on the floor,
but you're not sleeping on the floor.
I watch everyone and their stuff.
I'm just checking that everyone is safe
and everything is safe in case there's an emergency.
What sort of things do you see at night that happens,
that's not supposed to happen?
Sometimes, things go missing…
or people run out of places to sleep.
[pensive music plays]
[Rowe] I just can't believe my eyes.
It's just absolutely crazy.
Every space on the floor, upstairs, downstairs, in every corner,
there are grown men trying to squeeze next to each other,
over each other, to go to sleep.
I mean, it's better than Dorm 4,
but it's still so claustrophobic.
The simple things that we take for granted
have been taken away from these men,
especially one of our most prized possessions:
privacy.
[pensive music continues]
[tense music plays]
It's my first full day in the Bahala Na gang dorm.
I'm amazed how organized this place is,
given that it's run by the prisoners themselves.
But I want to know what it's like for ordinary prisoners
living under the control of a criminal gang.
A fellow inmate has offered to show me around.
-How you doing? Raphael. What's your name? -I'm Jin Ragan.
Jin Ragan.
-How long have you been in this prison? -Um…
Eight months? Oh, nine months.
-Nine months. -Yeah.
-Is it your first time? -No.
No. You're… before?
I am… ten times.
-You've been in prison ten times? -Yeah.
-Why? -Because, um… First case, murder.
You've been in prison for murder already?
And then second case, robbery holdup.
And then third, fourth, drugs.
Fifth, robbery, robber snatching.
[in Tagalog] It's all about drugs, all drugs.
[Rowe] Who did you kill?
[in English] Two gangster.
[Rowe] A enemy.
Enemy gangster, yeah. In a drive-by and then I killed him.
Jin offers to show me what money and rank can buy in this dormitory,
starting with the gang boss' quarters.
This is, uh, the mayores' room.
[Rowe] Okay, can I have a look?
[Jin in Tagalog] He's our father in charge of the Bahala Na Gang.
[Rowe] This is the best I've seen in the whole of this prison.
This is a palace.
He has his own personal TV,
enough space for a small double bed.
He's been rewarded very well.
Why does he have this and no one else?
We chose him because he was a good friend. He never gave up on us.
He is our choice. We put him there. We voted for him.
And the trusted lieutenants of the gang are also rewarded
with much better cells
than all the other prisoners.
This is what we call kubol. These cells are just for ten people.
[Rowe] How do you earn this room then?
These are just given to us by the gang boss in charge.
-Bye. -[Jin speaks indistinctly]
And because the prison is so short of staff,
the gang run courses for their members.
-[Rowe] Here? -This, study room.
[man speaks indistinctly]
[in Tagalog] Those who don't know how to read and write
attend courses taught by prisoners here.
One of Dorm 8's star inmates, who has been taught to read and write
by the gang members, is Suzuki.
-[in English] Famous rapper in the jail. -Okay.
[rapping in Tagalog] ♪ Many say that jail is hell ♪
♪ Prisoners are humans Who act like demons ♪
♪ It is painful, it's hard to accept ♪
♪There are so many here In the place to be ♪
♪ I think quickly I will become Like a nightmare in your dream ♪
-Bravo. -[Jin chuckles]
[inmates applauding]
[in Tagalog] I learned how to read and write
with the help of my fellow prisoners.
How long have you been in Manila Jail?
I go back and forth here, but now it's been a month.
You sound like you enjoy coming back and forth.
Being free from here is a vacation. Jail is our real home.
To say that prison is your house…
is sad to hear.
Surely, you could have a better life outside than you can in here.
Nobody helps us.
My family doesn't have money. My wife doesn't have money.
So, how do you make money in here? Do you make money in here?
Yes, I have a business lending money.
Do you make good money from this business?
It can be frustrating because sometimes people cannot pay.
So, what happens if somebody can't afford to pay you it back?
We can't do anything about it. If you hurt them, you will have a problem.
Thank you for sharing your rap, man. It was really good.
It was nice to meet you, man.
Take that skill outside.
Use it outside, not in here.
I can't promise you.
I was shocked and saddened.
This is what Suzuki considers home.
But he can't cope out there.
But he's very proud of the fact
that he learned to read and write in prison,
and he's gonna go out with something he didn't have before.
I think that's the most important point.
They are working together to survive.
To educate themselves.
And that is impressive.
[pensive music plays]
[moody music plays]
Despite the apparent calm in this prison,
the Bahala Na gang is one of several rival criminal gangs in here.
And just like everywhere else in the world,
when gangs fall out, violence erupts.
Six months ago, war broke out between two rival gangs in this prison.
Thirty-two prisoners were injured,
and the Sputnik gang murdered two of the BCJ gang.
[indistinct chattering]
I'm Raphael. How are you doing?
-So, you're from the BCJ? -Yes, sir.
Two of Ryan's gang, the BCJ,
were murdered by their rivals, the Sputnik gang, in the riot.
[Rowe] Sputnik.
[Ryan] The fight happened here.
-[Rowe] Everything's fine now? -It's fine now.
[in Tagalog] Sometimes, it gets intense, but we fix it right away.
[Rowe] What happens when they get aggressive?
[Ryan] We communicate.
We get ahead of it.
We talk it out and immediately try to resolve it.
Okay. You show me… Introduce me to the mayore upstairs.
Ryan has invited me along to his regular meeting
with the Sputnik gang leaders, Ferdi and Jonathan.
[Rowe] What can you tell me about what happened on that day?
[in Tagalog] What I saw was really like war.
I couldn't stop my comrades.
Did the BCJ then seek revenge for the death of two of their comrades?
[Ferdi] No, sir, not anymore.
When it happened, we took care of the needs of those the dead left behind,
the funeral and the expenses during their wake.
The groups are set aside now.
We are brothers. That event became a lesson.
Even a small problem, we talk about it.
A misunderstanding, we fix it.
They are responsible to fix their comrades' problems.
It's the same with us.
Okay, thank you for sharing that.
The death of two prisoners is a stark reminder
that this, and these conditions…
have a volatile tendency.
So the threat is always present,
the threat is always real…
that what happened a few months ago,
where two men lost their lives,
could happen again.
[tense music plays]
This afternoon, I'm catching up with my dormmate Jin.
[in English] Give him the ball. Okay.
[inmates cheering, applaud]
[Jin chuckles]
One of the problems of overcrowding
is that there's no space for inmates to let off steam.
But the Bahala Na gang has a solution for that.
Every week, they lay on an exercise class,
and the whole block joins in.
[upbeat music plays]
-[inmates chanting] -[Jin] Clap.
-[inmates chanting]
Clap. Come on.
[instructor] Are you enjoying?
-[cheering] Yeah! -[instructor] Are you happy?
[all cheering] Yes!
[all chanting, laughing]
I've never seen a prison guard dance on duty before.
[chanting continues]
[all cheering]
-[instructor] Are you happy? -[all cheering] Yeah!
-[all applauding] -[instructor] All right.
[inmates chanting] More!
No more for me, man. That's me, done.
[instructor] Long live the Filipino community!
[inmates cheer]
[in Tagalog] It helps us to forget our problems in prison.
The Zumba keeps us inspired and stops us from worrying about our families,
from thinking about our loved ones.
Okay, man, look, good seeing you again.
In a place that can often be quite tense
and depressing,
it's amazing what a little bit of music, a little bit of atmosphere…
and a little bit of participation can do.
It makes for a much less volatile environment.
[tense music plays]
It's my sixth day inside one of the most overcrowded prisons in the world.
Today, I'm swapping sides and joining the guards
for a cell block search with Senior Officer Hakabe
and Head of Security, Inspector Malamata.
And what are you hoping to find in these searches?
Illegal contrabands, drugs.
Most of the prison is run
with this shared governance approach.
Is it… Is that also…
involved in how you carry out your searches?
So we basically empower those cell leaders,
and become our shared governance or our partners,
so that they will be the one managing their whole cell.
[instructor] Right!
They are so understaffed here that the prison drafts in trainee guards
to help them do dorm searches safely.
The new recruits are gonna conduct their search here today.
Um, they seem very militaristic.
It must be a warning sign to all the prisoners
when they see this line of officers
in black T-shirts and combat shorts entering their dormitory
that a search is about to take place.
First, the inmates are ordered outside.
Searching the prisoners before they're removed from the dormitory
to make sure they're not taking the contraband
they're looking for outside.
Unbelievably, the prison guards ask the gang boss, T,
for permission to search the dorm.
It seems that the responsibility
for keeping the prison free of contraband is shared.
[Rowe] Does this happen very often,
where the guards come in and they search the dormitory?
It happens often,
usually two to three times a month. The warden told us, the mayores,
we need to clean up the dormitories.
All mayores are given the responsibility
to clean the City Jail, to make it drug free.
[Rowe] How do you feel about that, and how do the prisoners feel about that?
[T] I am a little nervous, because they might find something.
[Rowe] What do you mean, you get nervous?
[T] I will be the one at risk. As their mayores,
it is my responsibility. No one should disobey me.
If there is someone who doesn't do what I say,
I surrender them to the prison guards.
The search is over, and the guards examine the haul.
It's just extraordinary in this prison,
a criminal gang leader, not the guards,
is the one that is really keeping this dorm clean.
-[Rowe] This is the search spoils. -[Malamata] Yes.
What would you say is the most serious piece of contraband?
-[Malamata] This small pen. -Are they not allowed pens?
Yes, because they can use this to stab.
-Right. Okay. -For a PDL.
So that, uh, they're not--
[Rowe] You consider a pen to be a dangerous weapon?
Yes, because they can use it as a deadly weapon.
-But this is… This, can I touch it? -[Malamata] Yes.
But this is surely more dangerous than a pen.
-Yes, yes. It is also a dangerous one. -[Rowe] Okay.
Searching prisoners
is commonplace in prisons around the world.
I spoke to the main man in the dorm,
and he said that he himself and his team
themselves carry out searches of prisoners.
Unheard of.
He was more concerned about the consequences
of anything being found,
either directly on him or his dorm.
[speaking Tagalog]
There's a lot at stake for the dorm leaders like T.
Step out of line, and the guards will replace them,
and that means losing all the privileges that come with their rank.
Despite the severe lack of money,
the prison do run some rehabilitation courses
to help prisoners break away
from drug crime.
-[Rowe] How are you doing? -Fine, thanks.
This course is being overseen by guard Achapero.
This is what we call the livelihood program.
They will do massage therapy.
Then when they're released from this jail,
they will have an extra income.
And to become also law-abiding and productive citizens.
[in Tagalog] First, sir, sit there.
-[Rowe] Okay. -And remove your shirt.
Remove my shirt.
[Edison] Cold pressure.
-[Rowe] You feel the bubble. Like a knot. -Yeah.
-How long have you been doing it? -Five days.
How long have you been in prison?
-Almost one year, sir. -Almost one year.
What are your charges?
Drugs, sir.
What drug was it?
Shabu.
Shabu as in meth.
And why did that happen to you?
[Edison] Because of the quota.
It's widely alleged Filipino police
have to make a minimum number of drug arrests every day,
causing corrupt officers to set up innocent people.
We were stopped by the police, sir. We were just riding our motorcycle.
-Did you have drugs on you? -No, sir.
They didn't get anything from us. They just planted it.
When I was arrested, they said, "Just confess,
and you will only get a six month sentence."
So, innocent men like you are just taken off of the street and put in prison?
Yes, sir. A lot of us have a case like this.
Sir, even if we get angry, we're stuck here.
We just accept it.
[Rowe] So you think this will offer you another opportunity.
[in English] Yes.
[in Tagalog] If I go to another country, I can use this.
[Edison] All right, powder, sir.
[Rowe] That was very good. So you're learning well.
Your story is sad, if it's true.
That is sad to hear.
-Good luck, thanks for the massage. -Thank you, sir.
If the police really are planting drugs on people
to meet arrest targets as Edison alleges,
then it's no wonder this prison is so full.
And well-intentioned rehabilitation like this
will struggle to have any impact on the overcrowding.
Tomorrow, I'm going to get out.
Thousands more will not.
[mellow music plays]
It's my final day in Manila City Jail.
With so much overcrowding and so few resources,
I want to understand what the future holds for this jail.
Aye aye.
-Sir. Good afternoon. -Warden Latoza, nice to meet you.
I'm meeting with the prison director, Warden Latoza.
It's obvious to me from what I've seen
that there is an issue around overcrowding.
Ideally, this facility should only cater to 1,200 people.
But now we are having almost 5,000. That's a challenge for us.
Seventy-two percent of people detained here are facing drug charges.
Forty to 50 percent are reoffenders, and that's a big problem for us,
because sometimes when people who don't have a sense of family outside,
when they get out, they would rather,
"Oh, I want to commit crime. I don't have anything to do to survive."
"I can still commit crime because when I am caught, I go back to jail."
"My family is there, I have a gang inside."
It's a vicious cycle of people going in jail.
-That's a sad state of affairs. -That's a sad… Yeah.
Shared governance is something I've heard around the prison quite frequently.
How did it come about, and why is it necessary?
Actually, the shared governance concept here in the jail
is just the coping mechanism to the inadequacy of resources that we have.
We could not have persons to manage in the dormitories.
We have 14 dormitories.
If we are going to put in personnel, staff,
we don't have any guards to be designated in the towers.
And what if they get over the fences, and they escape?
[Rowe] Why do you do it, then,
to do the job that you do, under the extreme conditions?
At the end of the day, we are all human beings.
These people also are victims, sometimes, of social injustices outside.
My contribution now, as a person,
is to help these people know if I have helped a person to renew his life,
to have his character, uh,
develop, then probably when they get out…
they will not commit crime.
And I don't want my children
-to be victims of these people. -[Rowe] Mm.
-Thank you. It's been very interesting. -Yes, sir.
-Good luck with what you're doing. -Yes, sir.
It's obvious the warden would like to do more,
but with the sheer number of prisoners and such limited budget,
the prison is overwhelmed.
This is the end of my time in Manila City Jail,
and it's clear to me that President Duterte
and his government's uncompromising war on drugs
has exacerbated overcrowding
in what is already one of the most congested, underfunded,
and primitive prisons I've ever seen.
But despite this, management, gangs, and the inmate population
seem to be coping with this approach to shared governance.
For conditions to improve and rehabilitation to work,
this place desperately needs investment and resources.
[evocative music plays]