OP-ED | Our Stories Deserve to Be Heard

We once lived in the shadows of the mountains not because we loved the dark, but because the light of justice had long abandoned our people. We were called rebels, enemies of the state, outlaws, insurgents. But before the rifles, there were dreams: dreams of dignity for farmers who could not own the land they till, for children who could not read because hunger was louder than any lesson, for mothers who buried sons not because of illness, but because of injustice.

For years, we believed that genuine change could only be achieved through revolution. We believed we are revolutionaries. We joined the armed struggle not for power, but for principle, for love of country, because when the system is rotten to its roots, you no longer prune the branches; you plant anew. We lived among the poorest of the poor, teaching them how to farm, to negotiate, to organize. We learned that revolution was not only fought with guns, but with compassion, education, and service especially to the marginalized. And though the violence and bullets have long been silenced, the conviction to serve the people has never left our hearts.

Many of us have since laid down our arms and accepted the government’s call to return to the folds of the law. We are grateful for initiatives like ECLIP (Enhanced Comprehensive Local Integration Program) and the Amnesty program, and though they may be imperfect, they had been bridges that allowed many of us to come home. These programs offered us the dignity of being seen not as threats, but as human beings yearning for another chance to live, for another chance at peace.

But peace, as we learned, is not merely the absence of war. Peace is when the farmer no longer fears losing his harvest to corruption. Peace is when the poor no longer beg for the services their taxes already paid for. Peace is when truth is no longer rewritten by those who have the money to buy the narrative.

And so, we speak now, not as rebels, not as insurgents, not as enemies, but as Filipinos who have walked and lived both sides of history. We speak because our stories of struggle, of loss, of rediscovery, deserve to be heard. We speak because we have witnessed the faces of corruption up close, the kind that bleeds the countryside dry while parading as progress in the city. We speak because the fight for justice did not end when we surrendered; it simply took a new form.

This we ask: include us in the storytelling of our nation-building. Not as footnotes of rebellion, not as cautionary tales, but as voices of truth and resilience. The former rebel is not an embarrassment of the past, but a testament to the country’s unfinished journey toward genuine peace and social justice.

Today, as corruption once again rocks the nation and the poor continue to pay the price, perhaps it is time to listen — truly listen — to those who once risked everything to change this system. Our stories may be uncomfortable, but they are necessary. For only when we understand why a person once took up arms against his own government can we begin to build a country where no one ever feels the need to do so again.

We tell our stories not to glorify the past, but to guide the future. We want the younger generation to understand, not romanticize what we went through; the idealism that drove us, the pain that broke us, and the lessons we learned the hardest way possible. The youth must learn that revolution without integrity leads only to another kind of oppression. That behind the slogans and fiery speeches of those who now claim to fight “for the people,” there sometimes lurks a hunger for control and not liberation.

Many of those who parade themselves today as “defenders of the masses” have forgotten the sacred principle we once lived by: learn from the masses and teach them. What used to be a movement of compassion has, in some corners, become a machinery of deception: where leaders cling to influence while the poor remain used, not uplifted. The hypocrisy is painful to witness, but the truth must be told: some of those who still recruit and radicalize the youth today are not fighting for the nation, but for their own survival and agenda.

Our stories deserve to be heard so that the youth will not be blinded by anger, nor manipulated by those who wear the mask of heroism while hiding their betrayal of the very principles they once preached. We want to shed light on the shadows, to reveal what truly happens when ideology becomes a weapon instead of a guide.

Listen to us, the ones who have lived the fire and the fallout, so that the next generation will not have to learn peace through pains and sufferings. Let our experiences become warnings, our voices become bridges, and our stories become the light that exposes both corruption in the system and hypocrisy in the struggle.

Because when the nation learns to listen to those who once rebelled, not to condemn, but to understand, that is when true peace and reconciliation begin.

Our stories deserve to be heard, for the sake of truth, for the sake of the people, and for the sake of the youth who deserve a future guided not by hatred, but by wisdom.

Our stories deserve to be heard, not to glorify the past, but to heal the future.