Remember what we fought for

When news broke about the Flood-Control Ghost Project scandal, many of us who once fought in the mountains felt a familiar ache. It was that same sense of betrayal that once pushed us to rebellion.

The Independent Commission for Infrastructure has already referred several cases to the Ombudsman, yet not a single government official appears on the charge sheet. Only contractors and engineers were named, when everyone knows that no infrastructure project, ghost or not, can move without the nod of a congressman. It is disappointing and infuriating to see this kind of selective justice. And how can ordinary Filipinos trust an Ombudsman who himself faces allegations of wrongdoing?

This kind of hypocrisy from those in power brings back memories of why many of us once turned to the path of rebellion. We dreamed of a Philippines where power is not a privilege for the few but a responsibility for all. We wanted a nation where farmers could till their own land, workers could feed their families, and every child could study without hunger shadowing their dreams. We took up arms not because we hated this country, but because we loved it too much to watch it rot in corruption and inequality.

And yet, as we rage at this new betrayal, we are reminded of an old lesson: corruption may return, but we do not have to return to conflict.

Decades later, the names and faces have changed, but the sickness remains. Those who rise to power promise reform only to reinforce the same web of greed. Some of those who once marched beside us, who once shouted for justice, have become what they once despised. They are political opportunists paid to bark on command. Their betrayal stings, but it also clarifies something for us: the revolution we sought can no longer be fought with the same old weapons.

This time, our response is different.

We remember the cause, the hunger for justice, the dream of equality, and the call for real change, but we choose not to take up arms. We refuse to add more pain to an already wounded motherland. The gun is no longer our weapon. Our voice, our work, and our unity have become the new tools of struggle.

We are grateful for the chance this government gave us to return to the fold of the law, to live again with our families, and to rejoin the nation we once fought. But while we have surrendered our arms, we have not surrendered our ideals. We still believe in service, justice, and love for the Filipino people. Now, we live those ideals through peace, through dialogue, and through daily acts of compassion and contribution.

Many of us have found our way back into communities as farmers, teachers, construction workers, small entrepreneurs, and peace advocates. We continue to serve the people in quieter, steadier ways. We mend what was broken not with bullets, but with patience and perseverance.

We now realize that real revolution does not always come with the sound of gunfire. It also comes with the courage to forgive, to rebuild, and to participate in a system we once sought to destroy. True strength is not in taking life, but in transforming it.

Yes, we are disappointed. Yes, we are angry. But we will not allow anger to consume us again. We have seen where violence leads: to widows, orphans, and wasted dreams. We will not be instruments of another cycle of pain.

Instead, we draw strength from the truth that change is constant, and that it is our choice which direction that change will take. We can choose to walk the brighter path, the path of hope, integrity, and service. Even in a country marred by corruption, there are still people who fight quietly for justice in their own small ways: teachers who refuse to cheat, workers who refuse to steal, farmers who refuse to give up. They, too, are revolutionaries.

To my fellow former rebels, we are proof that transformation is possible. There were days when the darkness seemed endless, when we thought we would never see the light again. But we did because we chose to change. The same choice now faces our country.

Will we allow corruption to define us again, or will we fight peacefully and persistently for a better future?

The struggle continues, but this time it is not a war of guns. It is a war for conscience, for compassion, for the soul of our nation. Because loving this country no longer means dying for it. It means living right within it.