The Toboso encounter in Negros Occidental, where Alyssa Alano (“Ka Kikay”), two children, and others reportedly died during a military operation, grieves me not only as a citizen but as a person of faith. I do not see this merely as another security incident, nor simply as another chapter in the ideological war between the state and the revolutionary movement. I see it as a moral wound upon the nation. Whenever young lives are extinguished in the mountains, fields, or villages of our land, something sacred is violated. Human beings are not expendable instruments of state policy, nor are they disposable fuel for revolution. Every life bears inherent dignity. Every death in this long conflict should trouble the conscience of the Republic.
From my theological frame, Toboso is not only about combat, insurgency, or law enforcement. It is about sin embedded in systems, injustice hardened into structures, and a nation repeatedly failing to choose the path of peace.
The Sacred Worth of Human Life
I begin with the conviction that every person carries the image of God. Whether soldier, peasant, student, rebel, police officer, indigenous resident, or public servant, each person possesses worth that no ideology can erase.
That means I cannot celebrate death casually. I cannot rejoice when the poor are killed because they were tagged enemies. I cannot romanticize martyrdom when youth are drawn into cycles of violence. I cannot applaud body counts as victory metrics. I cannot treat grieving mothers as collateral.
When society normalizes death for political ends, it has already lost part of its soul.
Sin Is Personal, But Also Structural
Many discuss this conflict only in terms of individual guilt: who fired first, who recruited whom, who ambushed whom, who violated law. Those questions matter. But my perspective is broader. Sin also becomes structural.
Sin takes institutional form when land remains concentrated while farmers remain poor. Sin becomes policy when corruption steals from public welfare. Sin becomes bureaucracy when justice is delayed until it dies. Sin becomes ideology when movements justify endless bloodshed in the name of liberation. Sin becomes propaganda when both sides use the dead to advance narratives.
The Toboso tragedy did not emerge from nowhere. It emerged from accumulated moral failures over generations.
The Primary Burden of the State
In my view, the government carries the greater responsibility because it possesses superior power, constitutional legitimacy, and public resources. Scripture teaches that authority exists to serve justice, restrain evil, and protect the vulnerable—not to dominate without accountability.
The Philippine state therefore bears a higher moral burden than any insurgent group. It commands armed forces, courts, taxation, legislation, and development institutions. It has the capacity to reform land systems, reduce poverty, punish corruption, and widen democratic participation.
If civilians or children died in Toboso, then transparent investigation is not optional—it is moral duty. If communities remain trapped in poverty and exclusion, then military operations alone cannot solve what governance has failed to heal.
A state that relies mainly on force while neglecting justice merely prunes the branches while watering the roots of rebellion.
The Burden of the Revolutionary Movement
Yet I must also speak plainly to the CPP-NPA-NDFP. Any movement claiming to fight for the oppressed must ask whether its methods still protect the people it claims to serve.
There was a time when armed resistance in many parts of the world emerged against dictatorship, colonialism, or absolute closure of democratic space. But history moves. Context changes. Strategies must be morally re-examined.
If decades of protracted struggle have not delivered liberation, while generations of poor communities absorb the suffering, then humility demands reassessment. If youth continue entering the hills to die, then leaders must ask whether conviction has hardened into dogma.
The oppressed deserve justice. They do not deserve endless war marketed as destiny.
Why Youth Still Seek Radical Paths
I understand why many young people are drawn to radical movements. They see hypocrisy, elite capture, corruption, shallow reforms, environmental destruction, and suffering among farmers and workers. They hunger for moral seriousness.
This hunger should convict the rest of society.
When institutions fail to inspire hope, movements of extremity become attractive. When churches preach heaven but ignore landlessness, when schools credential but do not awaken conscience, when politics performs but does not transform, the young go searching elsewhere.
The answer is not merely condemning radicalization. The answer is building credible justice.
The Failure of the Church
As a theological thinker, I must also indict portions of the church. Too often churches have aligned with comfort over courage, access over truth, and order over justice.
Some baptize state violence in the language of patriotism. Others romanticize revolution without grieving its casualties. Many retreat into private spirituality while ignoring public suffering.
The church should not be chaplain to empire or mascot for insurgency. The church should be a prophetic community: defending life, exposing lies, comforting victims, and calling all sides to repentance.
If faith communities were more courageous, perhaps fewer youth would feel that only the gun can change history.
Peace Is More Than the Absence of Gunfire
Peace, in my frame, is not simply ceasefire. Peace is right relationship.
Peace means farmers secure on their land. Peace means indigenous peoples respected. Peace means workers paid justly. Peace means students able to dream without joining war. Peace means soldiers no longer deployed into endless internal conflict. Peace means courts trusted by the poor. Peace means leaders who fear moral judgment more than losing elections.
Genuine peace is social wholeness, not silent oppression.
What Must Be Done
First, serious peace negotiations should resume, grounded in realism and sincerity.
Second, land reform and rural development must become real rather than rhetorical.
Third, corruption must be confronted as a national security threat because theft breeds instability.
Fourth, youth need pathways for service, organizing, and transformation outside armed movements.
Fifth, churches, universities, and civil society must recover moral courage.
And both the state and the revolutionary movement must repent of narratives that consume the young.
Alyssa Alano as a Prophetic Question
To me, Alyssa Alano’s death is not merely a headline. It is a prophetic question addressed to the Filipino people:
Why do our brightest still die in an old war?
Until justice becomes tangible, rebellion will keep finding recruits. Until violence is renounced as the primary instrument of change, graves will keep multiplying. Until truth replaces propaganda, healing will remain distant.
My faith leads me to this conviction: no nation can kill its way into peace, and no movement can bleed its way into redemption.
Peace will come when justice is loved more than power, when mercy is valued more than vengeance, and when every Filipino life is treated as sacred.
This reflection is also published in Mindanews.
