From the Katipunan’s fight for liberation to the resistance under Martial Law, armed struggle in this country has never emerged without cause — it is a symptom of poverty, inequality, and state repression that have long crippled our nation. 

Yet, this truth is often obscured by a system that vilifies critical thought. A recent editorial by The Stenatorian, the official student publication of Tarlac State University – College of Engineering, echoed such a narrative by criticizing student leadership candidates for “recognizing” armed struggle as a response to systemic conflicts.

The online post argued that such ambiguity has no place in a university and suggested that to even recognize the existence of armed resistance is to embolden violence.

“Tolerance, or even ambiguous acknowledgment, of armed struggle has no place in our university, as it risks becoming a gateway for students to take up arms and undermines the purpose of the free education they are privileged to receive,” it claimed.

At first glance, the editorial appears to merely draw a line against extremism. But a closer reading reveals its alignment with a much larger and far more dangerous state narrative — one that systematically collapses political understanding into endorsement, and dissent into subversion.

This is not a vilification of The Stenatorian, but an invitation to reflect on how even well-meaning voices can echo broader narratives that enforce democratic suppression. The editorial in question is a springboard — not the enemy — in a much larger conversation about education, resistance, and the shrinking space for political thought.

It reflects the ideological framework that has been cemented into policy by Executive Order No. 70, which didn’t just treat insurgency as a matter for the military but as a problem tied to governance, economics, and ideology.  This order birthed the National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict (NTF-ELCAC) — a powerful body that mobilizes government agencies and law enforcement to wage a campaign not just against armed groups, but against the very idea of resistance. 

When a student publication condemns the mere recognition of armed struggle, it mirrors the same logic pushed by NTF-ELCAC: that critical thought and political awakening are threats to national security. 

And that is the danger — when institutions meant to educate begin to echo the machinery meant to silence.

Through NTF-ELCAC’s so-called “information awareness” drives, students are taught not to question power but to fear it. Educational spaces have been turned into ideological battlegrounds, where activism is painted as terrorism and critical thinking is recast as radicalization. Terms like “terror-grooming,” though without basis in law or fact, have been invented to vilify national democratic organizations, student councils, labor unions, and indigenous movements. 

In doing so, it criminalizes not just action, but thought.

It is in this context that The Stenatorian’s editorial must be situated. While it may not have intended to red-tag anyone, it reflects the logic of the broader counterinsurgency machinery that antagonizes political awakening by conflating recognition with subversion.  

It internalizes the idea that to even acknowledge the roots of armed resistance — to ask why such movements exist — is to justify or glorify violence. This dangerous conflation is precisely what fuels the harassment, surveillance, and extrajudicial killings across the country.

Let us be clear: the issue is not about condoning violence. It is about refusing to ignore the social and political conditions that make it seem necessary to many.

If we are to truly aspire for peace, then we must be willing to interrogate the structures that deny it — not just condemn the symptoms that emerge from its absence.

The editorial further asserts that “education is the weapon that can change the world — not through violence, but through civil and informed choices. To resort to violence is a betrayal of the public trust that the Filipino people have placed in students when they are given free education.”

The ideal of education as a vehicle for peace and progress is not wrong — but the way it is wielded by the state often is. Too often, education is reduced to a reward for compliance: a tool to produce obedient citizens rather than critical thinkers. Under this logic, to question authority is seen not as a civic duty, but as a betrayal of public trust. 

Through Executive Order No. 70, the Anti-Terrorism Act, and the unrelenting operations of the NTF-ELCAC, the state has weaponized the rhetoric of “national security” to wage a campaign not against violence — but against political consciousness. 

It does not fear armed struggle as much as it fears an informed, organized public — especially the youth, who have long been at the vanguard of resistance. Because an educated student body that dares to ask difficult questions is harder to control.

This is why the crackdown extends far beyond armed groups. It targets farmers fighting for land reform, workers demanding just wages, Lumad schools advocating for indigenous education, and students engaging in political discourse. 

The objective is not peace — it is pacification. And the cost is nothing less than our democratic space.

If education is truly a public trust, then it must be trusted to produce thinkers, not echo chambers. A university is not a refuge from politics — it is its cradle. It is where students must engage with the complexities of power, history, and resistance. To hinder that is to strip education of its transformative power and deny young people their role in shaping the nation’s future.

Because when we teach students to submit instead of speak, we do not nourish the nation — we starve it.

The views and opinion of the writer do not necessarily reflect those of the publication.