The University Confrontation That Turned Into a Script and a Performance

A protest inside the University of Santo Tomas on April 21 made the rounds in social media lately. National democratic activists, led by Philosophy freshman Raven Racelis, stormed a Philippine Air Force exhibit mounted for the University’s 415th anniversary and the Air Force’s 79th anniversary. What was supposed to be a public display that featured simulators, aircraft models, and modernization briefings became the setting of a heated exchange that the national democratic youth organization Anakbayan quickly amplified into a clickbait narrative online.

From the outset, the tone was set not by inquiry, but by certainty, since the supposed activists did not enter the exhibit to engage in a discussion. They entered with a conclusion already fixed.

Racela declared: “Pumunta kami dito para sabihin sa inyo na ang mga institusyon niyo—you are not all welcome in academic spaces! ’Cause you are the number one human rights violator!”

That framing matters because once an institution is reduced to a single, absolute label, there is very little room left for discussion. The outcome is already decided. What follows will no longer be an exchange of ideas but an assertion repeated, ad nauseum and louder each time.

This posture is echoed in the official statement of Anakbayan: “The University is a place of learning and an environment where freedom of thought should be expressed. Hence, a question arises: Why does the University of Santo Tomas allow violent entities like the PAF, which threatens students’ academic freedom, on its campus?”

It may sound like a defense of academic freedom, but listen closely. The conclusion is already embedded in the premise. The PAF is not being questioned; it is already defined as a “violent entity.” The “question” is not meant to explore. It is meant to reinforce what has already been decided.

When military personnel pushed back, “Nasaan ang complaints? Nasaan ang complaints, Ma’am?”—the challenge was straightforward: where is the basis for the claim? The response did not directly establish that basis. Instead, it shifted the ground entirely.

“Kailangan pa po bang may mamatay para hindi niyo sabihing baseless?” the students pressed. Proof does not matter. Even when claims are unsubstantiated, it is the narrative that matters.

At another point, the exchange circled the same tension. “Ginagamit po ito para protektahan ang ating bansa,” one military personnel said. The reply came immediately: “Protektahan? Paano niyo po poprotektahan kung mismong mga sibilyan ang mamamatay?”

It is a powerful line. It draws emotion. It mobilizes support. But again, it also bypasses the original question: where is the proof?

Even the framing of the institution itself echoed a familiar ideological script. One activist invoked what sounded like a long-standing line: “Yan ang mercenary tradition ng AFP…” This casually-dropped phrase traces back to Jose Maria Sison’s essay The Mercenary Tradition in the AFP (Struggle for National Democracy, 1967), which has been repeated for decades. And here it was again, almost word for word, in a university confrontation framed as spontaneous dissent.

What followed next was predictable. The exchange dissolved into chants. “Militar sa pamantasan, palayasin!” 

Toward the end (hard to say since the video was spliced in places) of the escalation, another line surfaced, one that tried to invoke moral authority in a different way: “Babangon sa hukay si Pope Francis sa ginagawa ninyo.”

It is a striking statement. But it is also telling. Because even moral references were used not to deepen the discussion, but to heighten the condemnation.

Ironically, the figure invoked was someone who in 2023 told members of an air force that their calling was a “perspective of service.” In an earlier message to aviators in 2021, Pope Francis also said that to the same air force that to “fly high” is to be “peacemakers, serving peace both in the air and on the ground.” It is a reminder that institutions, like individuals, should not be condemned to a single dimension.

This was where the incident evolved into more than just a campus confrontation. It became emblematic of how issues are increasingly handled in public spaces, especially by national democratic activists. Was it just rage bait?

There is nothing inherently wrong with protest. By all means rage. But know that there is also something deeply problematic when national democratic organizations tend to reduce complex institutions into a single label, and when opposing views are dismissed not through argument, but through exclusion. 

Academic freedom is often invoked in moments like this. But academic freedom is not only the freedom to speak. It is also the responsibility to engage. It demands the discipline to test one’s claims, to confront opposing evidence, and to accept that certainty is not always the starting point of learning. When a university space becomes a space where one side declares and the other is shut down, something essential is lost. Not activism. Not dissent. But critical thinking itself.

The confrontation at UST was loud, and for Racelis and Anakbayan, that was clearly the intent. Once the noise settles, they must ask themselves the difficult question: Are we still engaging with ideas, or are we simply performing them?

Because if every encounter begins with a conclusion and ends with a chant, then the university is no longer a place of inquiry. It becomes a stage where positions are rehearsed, repeated, and reinforced. 

And that should concern us far more than the presence of any exhibit.