Behind Educational Discussions: How Kabataan Partylist’s Online Talakayan Follows a Familiar Recruitment Pattern

The youth has always been drawn to political education. In periods of uncertainty, discussion spaces that promise clarity, critique, and purpose naturally attract students seeking to understand power, injustice, and their place in society. Kabataan Partylist’s recent series of online “Edukasyong Talakayan” positions itself squarely within this space, presenting the activity as a response to alleged militarization, fascism, and state abuse, particularly in Mindoro.

On its face, the initiative appears to be a standard political education forum. The discussions are framed as exercises in critical thinking and youth empowerment, conducted online and accessible to a broad audience. However, when examined, the structure, sequencing, and ideological framing of these sessions closely resemble a political education model long associated with the Communist Party of the Philippines and its allied organizations.

This approach is not new. The CPP’s formative years were marked by study circles centered on Marxism-Leninism-Mao Zedong Thought, designed not merely to inform but to orient participants toward a particular political worldview. What has changed is the medium. Physical presence is no longer required. The same preparatory process now operates in digital spaces, where ideological formation and organizational filtering can occur with less visibility and fewer constraints.

Curated topics

The lineup of discussion topics is instructive. Sessions on the alleged mercenary character of the Armed Forces of the Philippines, the social foundations of a fascist state, revolutionary theory drawn from texts such as State and Revolution, primers linked to activist networks, and discussions on red-tagging are not random or independent choices. Taken together, they form a coherent ideological progression that mirrors the introductory political education used by the revolutionary Left for decades.

The narrative that emerges across these discussions is consistent. State institutions, particularly the military, are presented as instruments of repression. Political conflict is framed in binary terms, with the State cast as the oppressor and the so-called people’s movement as the sole legitimate counterforce. Revolutionary theory is introduced not as one perspective among many, but as a foundational lens for understanding society. Participation in activist networks is normalized as a moral and political responsibility, while skepticism or external scrutiny is preemptively framed as repression through the concept of red-tagging.

Controlled discourse

Individually, these topics can and do appear in legitimate academic settings. The issue is not their existence, but their presentation within a closed ideological framework that excludes competing analyses. Nowhere in the announcements is there an indication of ideological plurality, engagement with opposing views, or participation by independent scholars. The discussions are not structured as debates or forums for critical comparison, but as guided conversations leading toward a predetermined conclusion.

Equally telling is the organizational setup. Registration links, monitored attendance, and closed online rooms are standard logistical tools, but they also enable organizers to observe participant behavior, identify those who are receptive, and assess ideological alignment. Former members of the underground movement have repeatedly described this as the initial phase of recruitment: legal, aboveground discussions that gradually narrow into smaller groups, deeper study, and eventual integration into more structured organizing. By the time formal recruitment occurs, the political groundwork has already been established.

Within this context, the inclusion of a session on the “dangers of red-tagging” serves a strategic function. While genuine cases of harassment and abuse must be addressed, the term is increasingly used to deflect legitimate questions about political affiliation and organizational links. Placing this topic toward the end of the series reinforces a closed loop, conditioning participants to interpret criticism not as a point for examination but as confirmation of repression. Here, accountability is reframed as persecution.

Kabataan Partylist has consistently denied being a recruitment arm of the CPP-NPA-NDF. Yet its educational content, language, and framing continue to align closely with CPP ideological positions and historical narratives. The issue at hand is not the right to organize or to speak, but transparency. If these talakayan are purely academic, it is reasonable to ask why they follow a revolutionary curriculum, why dissenting viewpoints are absent, and why the materials and progression mirror political education modules long used by the underground movement. It is also fair to question why these discussions frequently function as entry points into activist networks that have been repeatedly linked to insurgent structures.

Critical thinking is strengthened by openness, debate, and exposure to competing ideas. It weakens when discussion spaces quietly funnel participants along a single ideological path. Vigilance, in this sense, does not require silencing youth or discouraging inquiry. It requires clarity about the difference between education and political grooming.

Recurring pattern

History offers ample caution. Many young Filipinos entered activist spaces believing they were simply learning or helping, only to find themselves drawn into a conflict far more complex and dangerous than they initially understood. That pattern did not begin with armed struggle; it began with study sessions and discussions that appeared harmless and educational.

The question, then, is not whether youth should engage in political discourse. It is whether these talakayan are intended to broaden understanding or to quietly prepare the next set of recruits. That is a question the public is entitled to raise, and one that deserves a clear and honest answer.