Ateneo de Davao Stands Tall: When Young Pens Face Old Furies

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — March 15, 2025

IN THE quiet halls of Ateneo de Davao University, a group of student journalists at Atenews dared to do what many feared: they called Rodrigo Duterte’s arrest by the International Criminal Court (ICC) ‘justice.’ For the thousands of Filipinos killed in his brutal drug war—families torn apart, bodies left in the streets—their words were a long-overdue reckoning. But the backlash was swift and brutal. Harassment, red-tagging, and rage from Duterte’s loyalists turned their courage into a fight for survival, forcing their university to defend their right to speak.

This isn’t just a story about a college paper under fire. It’s a window into a Philippines wrestling with its past, a test of press freedom in a country where truth-tellers have long faced bullets and blacklistings, and a reminder of the human cost when power goes unchecked. As someone who’s spent decades chronicling the silenced and the suffering—from Darfur to Myanmar—I see in Atenews both the flicker of hope and the weight of risk that comes with challenging impunity.

Digging for Truth: What’s Solid, What’s Shaky

Let’s start with what we know. Duterte’s arrest on March 11 is real—executed by the Philippines’ prosecutor general after Interpol relayed the ICC’s warrant for “murder as a crime against humanity.” The court claims jurisdiction over crimes before the Philippines withdrew in 2019, a legal stance that’s solid but contested by Duterte’s camp, who see it as foreign meddling in a sovereign nation. Atenews, alongside other Ateneo student publications, hailed this as a breakthrough for accountability, tying it to Duterte’s broader legacy: a drug war that killed an estimated 6,000 to 30,000 people (numbers vary wildly depending on who’s counting), plus laws like the 2020 Anti-Terrorism Act that critics say choked dissent.

The backlash is real too. Social media posts from Duterte supporters like Tio Moreno and Ateneo alumni show a mix of hurt and fury—accusing Atenews of bias, of shaming the university, of betraying Davao’s peace under Duterte’s iron fist. The university’s president, Fr. Karel S. San Juan, SJ, condemned the harassment on March 12, calling it red-tagging—a loaded term in the Philippines, where being labeled a communist can mean death threats or worse. Yet the report offers no specifics: no names of threatened students, no screenshots of menacing messages. This gap matters. Without evidence, the claim risks feeling like a rallying cry rather than a documented crisis.

Power Plays: Who Shouts, Who Whispers

Zoom in, and you see a clash of power playing out. Atenews, a student outlet at a Jesuit university, holds the pen but not the muscle. Their editorial independence—affirmed by Fr. San Juan—gives them room to provoke, but they’re vulnerable, caught between a revered institution and an alumni base split by loyalty to Duterte. The loudest voices in the backlash aren’t the poorest victims of the drug war—street vendors or slum-dwellers whose kin were gunned down—but older, educated Ateneans and online influencers like Moreno, who wield nostalgia for Duterte’s Davao and the clout of social media.

Whose voices fade? The families of the dead. The news mentions “thousands of Filipinos” lost to the drug war, but we don’t hear from a single mother who buried a son or a child orphaned by a midnight raid. Their absence leaves the story abstract, less human than it could be. Meanwhile, Duterte’s supporters get space to vent—claiming safety in Davao as his gift—but their argument isn’t fleshed out with data or stories either. The result is a tug-of-war between elites: student idealists versus alumni defenders, with the most wounded caught in the silence.

Beyond Davao: A Global Cry for Free Words and Fair Trials

This isn’t just Davao’s fight. It’s a chapter in a global saga of press freedom under siege. In the Philippines, journalists have faced assassination—47 killed since 1992, per the Committee to Protect Journalists—often for exposing corruption or rights abuses. Duterte’s tenure turbocharged that danger, with outlets like Rappler battered by lawsuits and critics red-tagged into hiding. Atenews’ ordeal echoes the harassment of Myanmar’s student reporters after the 2021 coup, where military trolls doxxed and threatened young writers, or Mexico’s campus papers targeted by cartels for naming names. The pattern is clear: when power feels cornered, it lashes out at the truth-tellers, especially the young ones who haven’t yet learned to duck.

Duterte’s arrest ties this to accountability too. The ICC’s move recalls its pursuit of Sudan’s Omar al-Bashir for genocide—imperfect, politicized, but a signal that no leader is untouchable. Yet the Philippines’ 2019 ICC exit, rooted in Duterte’s defiance of “Western” justice, mirrors Kenya’s resistance to ICC probes after 2007 election violence. Sovereignty versus global norms: it’s an old tension, and it leaves Atenews caught in the crossfire—championing an international court that half their country rejects.

Walking in Their Shoes: Bravery Meets Backlash

Step into Atenews’ shoes. These are kids—19, 20 years old—raised in a nation where Duterte’s “kill them all” rhetoric was normalized, where dissent could mean a knock on the door. Their statement took guts, not just to cheer the ICC but to call out both Duterte and Marcos for human rights failures amid a brewing political feud. They’re not perfect—their warning about “political gain” feels vague, and their “we” might overreach—but their moral clarity cuts through the cynicism of a system that’s buried bodies and shrugged.

Now walk with the alumni. Many grew up in a Davao plagued by crime, where Duterte’s harsh hand brought a rough peace. “You never experienced what we went through,” one wrote. It’s not just blind loyalty; it’s memory. They see Atenews as privileged, naive, maybe even ungrateful. Their anger spills into harassment—wrong, yes—but it’s born from a sense of betrayal by their own school. Tio Moreno’s charge of “bullying” a pro-Duterte student, if true, flips the script: are the crusaders also oppressors? Without details, it’s a question mark hanging over the story.

Duterte himself looms large. To his base, he’s a folk hero who cleaned up streets; to critics, a tyrant who stained them with blood. The ICC arrest isn’t closure—it’s a spark. His daughter, Vice President Sara Duterte, faces impeachment, and the Marcos-Duterte rift could twist this into a power play. Atenews is right to fear that justice gets lost in the shuffle.

Fixing the Fracture: Bold Steps for a Broken Land

This mess won’t untangle easily, but there are steps worth taking—practical, human-centered, hopeful yet grounded.

For Atenews: Keep writing, but widen the lens. Tell the stories of drug war widows, not just the headlines. If harassment is real, document it—names redacted, threats preserved—so the world sees the cost of your courage. Clarify your “we” to dodge the bias trap, and invite dissent in your pages. Truth thrives in debate, not echo chambers.
For Ateneo de Davao: Stand firm on press freedom, but bridge the divide. Host a forum—students, alumni, faculty—to air this out. Let the old guard speak their Duterte memories; let the young counter with data and grief. Compassion doesn’t mean agreement—it means listening enough to heal the rift.
For Duterte’s Supporters: Condemn harassment, full stop. Threats and red-tagging don’t defend your cause—they echo the violence you claim to oppose. Argue with facts—Davao’s crime stats, not just feelings—and respect these students’ right to disagree. You’ve lived through chaos; they’re living through yours.
For the Philippine Government: Cooperate with the ICC, not out of weakness but strength. Justice for the dead doesn’t erase sovereignty—it proves a nation can face its ghosts. Protect journalists, student or pro, with real laws and real enforcement. The world’s watching.
For the ICC and Global Community: Push the case, but don’t preach. Pair it with aid—legal help for victims’ families, not just warrants for the powerful. Show Manila that accountability lifts up, not tears down.

Heart of the Storm: Whose Soul Survives?

I think of a woman I met in Manila years ago, a mother whose teenage son was shot by police in a drug raid—no trial, no proof, just a body in a ditch. She didn’t want revenge; she wanted someone to say his name mattered. Atenews is trying to do that, in its brash, youthful way. They’re not alone—across the Philippines, families wait for that same reckoning.

As an Ateneo de Davao High School graduate of 1977, I understand the alumni who remember the bombs, the fear, and the relief Duterte’s order brought. But I also see the students—brave, idealistic, and unyielding—who demand justice for the thousands silenced by his drug war. This isn’t just a clash of generations; it’s a struggle for the soul of the Philippines. It starts with listening: to the young who dream of a better future, to the old who remember a fractured past, and to the voices of the dead, whose stories must never be forgotten.