Antonio Tagamolila was an intense, quiet young man who detested the system of corruption and exploitation that kept the country underdeveloped and the masses in age-old poverty. At the same time, he realized that to be true to himself, he had to act on these ideas.

Thus, he shifted from engineering (for which he had a government scholarship) to economics, thinking that the course would be more relevant to the nation’s needs. He did graduate in 1971, with a bachelor’s degree in economics, in effect banishing hopes of any substantial contribution to the family’s finances.

Early on, Tagamolila – whose older brother Crispin, an Army lieutenant, defected to the New People’s Army – had already made a name for himself as editor of the Philippine Collegian where week after week he wrote about politics, foreign affairs, and social questions. Then, elected national president of the College Editors Guild of the Philippines, he exercised leadership over other student writers in carrying forward the kind of committed journalism that he was already practising.

Membership in radical organizations at the time molded Tagamolila’s thinking; he joined Kabataang Makabayan in 1966, and then the Samahang Demokratiko ng Kabataan. But he would never forget that he came from a poor family; his father didn’t have stable jobs, and scholarships enabled the Tagamolila siblings to get higher education.

“Never forget where you came from,” he would tell his wife Vicky. College sweethearts, they married in May 1972. After that he worked for a time on the staff of Romeo Capulong, Nueva Ecija delegate to the 1971 Constitutional Convention.

When martial law was declared in September 1972, Tagamolila did not hesitate to take his convictions to a higher level. He left for Panay in November. “He wanted to go back to his roots,” his wife said. “He was going to give back everything that he had learned… it was his obsession.”

Over a year later, Tagamolila was killed in a remote village situated on the common border between Aklan and Capiz provinces. Others who died in the same incident, when government troops attacked a small hut where they were staying, included Antonio Hilario and Rolando Luarca who had both been students in Manila.

A widowed mother at 23, Vicky Tagamolila chose to return to the area where Tony died, “to pursue our ideals.”
The people were so poor, she found, they only ate kamote and palawan (tubers and roots); no rice could be grown because the land was so full of rocks and stones. They sewed their own clothes from handwoven abaca fibers (biray). “When we were there, we set up a literacy program… the regular schoolteachers came only once every two weeks.”

During the late 1940s, the Hukbalahap movement had already been established there, as the location was advantageous for guerrilla warfare. Tagamolila’s group was sent there to begin again, and in the years afterward, before the situation got better, the place was a kind of “black hole,” where many lost their lives.

PARENTS Manuel Tagamolila and Casiana Sandoval
SPOUSE / CHILD Victoria Segui / 1

Elementary: La Paz Elementary School, Iloilo City
Secondary: University of the Philippines High School, Quezon City
College: University of the Philippines Diliman

TAÑADA, Lorenzo M.


Already well into his 80s, the silver-haired grandfather needed to use a cane, but he was more than willing to join the protest rally against the Marcos dictatorship. He had only one condition:

“Ayaw ko na tatakbo tayo pag dumating ang pulis,” he told the organizers who had come to see him. “We will stand our ground!” Lorenzo M. Tañada chose to fight very big battles, and he never ran away.

In his younger days, he was much admired for his fight against top government officials whom he accused of graft and corruption. Then he went on to defy big-money politics in his 24 years as an independent senator, serving only the people and not the interests of any major political bloc. The struggle against the Marcos dictatorship was the one that called on his entire being as a Filipino, a nationalist, a lawyer, a politician.

When martial law was declared, Tañada was vacationing abroad – only months earlier, he had retired from public office, saying that younger people should also have a chance to serve – but he chose to return to the Philippines and fight what he declared was an illegal act, a usurpation of power by Marcos.

He represented political prisoners being tried before military tribunals (foremost among them Benigno Aquino Jr.), counselled and defended the rights of the many who were being detained, gave comfort to their families, encouraged everyone to resist the dictatorship, gave speeches, signed petitions, endured tear gas and water cannons as he walked the streets at the forefront of the many mass protests that erupted after Aquino was assassinated.

Because he identified so completely with the people’s movement, the one occasion when he got arrested and detained for one week was a high point of his involvement. He leaned out of the police van that was carrying him away, raised a clenched fist, and shouted, “Laban! Laban! Laban!” (Laban, or People’s Power Party, was the name of the political party he organized in 1978 to campaign for Aquino.)

But Tañada – by this time fondly known by all as Ka Tanny – was also deeply aware that without the support of the US government, the Marcos dictatorship would not have happened nor be able to continue oppressing the Filipino people. He campaigned against the continued presence of American military facilities in the Philippines through the Anti-Bases Coalition which he headed. He was also adamantly opposed to the Bataan nuclear power plant, with its destructive event on the environment, potential for harm to the people, and linkage to corrupt dealings by Marcos and his cronies.

The Marcos dictatorship fell in 1986, Marcos died in exile in 1989. In September 1991 the Senate voted to reject the Philippines-US military bases treaty. Before he passed away in 1992 at the age of 93, Ka Tanny witnessed both historic events in which he played a key role. His son Wigberto (Bobby) observed:

“(He) outlived the dictatorship and the dictator and saw the last American soldier leave Philippine soil. In many ways, his life exemplified how the impossible could be made possible through determination, strength of conviction and love of country.”

PARENTS Vicente Lopez Tañada and Anastacia Martinez
SPOUSE / CHILDREN Expedita Z. Ebarle / 9

EDUCATION University of the Philippines, Harvard University (USA), University of Santo Tomas

TAOJO, Romraflo R.

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Son of a poor Cebuano couple who migrated to Mindanao from the Visayas, Romraflo Taojo knew poverty first-hand. He went through college and law school by sheer hard work and perseverance.

After passing the bar in 1980, he started his career almost immediately as a human rights lawyer, becoming known for providing free legal services to the poor. He not only refused to accept legal fees from his indigent clients, mostly farmers or laborers, or victims of human rights abuses, but he would even provide them money for transportation. Of special concern to him were the tribespeople victimized by landgrabbers. These communities also bore the brunt of military atrocities under martial law.

Specializing in labor law, Taojo served as legal counsel of the Solidarity of Workers of Davao, an umbrella organization of labor groups, and notably represented striking workers of a large banana plantation in their negotiations with management.

As a young lawyer in 1981, Dodong Taojo was the first chair of the human rights committee of the local chapter of the Integrated Bar of the Philippines; he held the position for three years.

He was elected chair of the Lumadnong Alyansa alang sa Demokrasya in 1984, and a member of the Concerned Lawyers Union of Mindanao, Multisectoral Alliance for Democracy, the Hukom Demokrasya-Davao, Mindanao Tribal Resource Center, Tagum Cooperative Incorporated (TCI).

As well, he was active in the Nationalist Alliance for Justice, Freedom and Democracy, Coalition for the Restoration of Democracy, Task Force Detainees of the Philippines, Free Legal Assistance Group, the Jaycees, and the Young Men's Christian Association of which he was a national board member. He was a faculty member of the University of Mindanao in Tagum.

In the so-called parliament of the streets, he was often seen boldly criticizing the policies of the Marcos government.

One year before his death, Taojo was told by a relative in the military that he was being watched because he was being “too vocal.” On his trips to Manila to attend meetings of the Free Legal Assistance Group and other cause-oriented organizations, he complained of being tailed by military agents.

Two days before he was killed, Dodong Taojo told a friend that he did not expect to be "around for long." He was then preparing to prosecute a case of torture against two Scout Rangers involved in gold-mining activities. On April 2, 1985, gunmen entered his apartment and shot him five times. He was 30. No one has been charged for his murder.

PARENTS Romeo Taojo and Isidra Rosaroso

Elementary/Secondary: Maco, Davao del Norte
College: University of Mindanao, Davao del Norte; University of the Visayas, Cebu

TAYAG, Carlos N.

tayag final

In 1970, several months before his scheduled ordination as a priest, Carlos Tayag asked for this important rite to be suspended, and instead entered the University of the Philippines, where he immersed himself in political-social organizing while pursuing a master’s degree in Philippine literature.

Tayag had spent ten years studying for the priesthood as a member of the Order of St. Benedict, where he took the name Carlos Maria (his baptismal name was Bartolome). In the latter years of the 1970s, the emerging Theology of Liberation posed a challenge to him, as he embraced a definition of his Christian faith that addressed itself directly to the liberation of, in his words, “those who are losing hope, the poor and powerless, those being held captive.”

Such faith, he continued, was rooted in promoting human freedom within the political, economic and cultural context: “this is a human duty brought forth by the spirituality and the experiences of a suffering humanity.”

He joined the Student Christian Movement of the Philippines, and became a leader of the Kilusang Kristiyano ng Kabataang Pilipino (KKKP) whose newsletter Breakthrough he edited from 1967 to 1972.

The Benedictine deacon was one of the organizers of the Christians for National Liberation, which (with KKKP) was declared illegal when martial law was imposed in 1972. Tayag went underground to continue his organizing work among church people, with the added dimension of mobilizing support for the popular resistance to the Marcos dictatorship.

Tayag disappeared without a trace sometime in August 1976. His family, whom he would contact from time to time while he was in the underground, believes it was the military who abducted him.

After years of searching for him, Tayag’s younger sister says: “We have stopped looking for Caloy, the physical Caloy. After all, he spent most of his years away from home. We are used to his physical absence. Instead we have now focused our search for that part of Caloy which is more real, indestructible and eternal: who he was, what he was fighting for, and why?”



When President Marcos appointed his friend Claudio Teehankee to the Supreme Court in 1968, some critics warned that he may have done this in anticipation of the latter’s cooperation in the event of a presidential election contest the following year.

But Teehankee proved to be a devoted defender of the rule of law, courageously upholding constitutional democracy against the dictatorial regime imposed in 1972.

He affirmed the right of citizens, even under martial law, to be tried by civilian courts rather than military tribunals. He challenged the validity of various amendments to the 1973 Constitution that extended Marcos’ term and gave him even more powers. He defended civilian supremacy over the military, and the right of citizens to liberty and due process, against the abuse of power through such instruments as the Presidential Detention Action.

These were dissenting opinions that failed to sway the majority of the justices, and when vacancies occurred at the top Marcos showed his displeasure by not appointing Teehankee to be chief justice, twice, despite his seniority in the court.

With the declaration of her victory over the dictator in the February 1986 snap election, President Corazon Aquino asked Teehankee to swear her into office, which he did in the morning of February 25 at the Club Filipino. She appointed him chief justice shortly after.

During the short period that he headed the court, Teehankee ordered a retrial of the Aquino-Galman murder case, declaring that “the Supreme Court cannot permit a sham trial and verdict and travesty of justice to stand unrectified.” He retired in 1988 upon reaching the age of 70.

Before serving in government – he was named justice undersecretary in 1966, secretary of justice in 1968, and associate justice of the Supreme Court in 1979 – Teehankee was a distinguished lawyer and civil libertarian. He co-founded the Nationalist Citizens' Party with senators Claro M. Recto and Lorenzo Tañada.
Teehankee is remembered as a competent and honest administrator at the justice department, and mostly as a courageous justice of the Supreme Court, especially during martial law.

No one, least of all Marcos, expected him to defy tyranny and cast doubt on the regime’s validity and to question the justness of its cause. His erudite dissenting opinions stripped away the shroud of legality that Marcos sought to drape over his abuses. He wrote bold dissents against the majority position, and spoke at public forums on the importance of upholding the rule of law, and the independence of the judiciary.

Under his leadership, he fought to keep the judiciary worthy of the people's respect and confidence.

Teehankee died of lung cancer in 1989 while serving as Philippine ambassador and permanent representative to the United Nations.

PARENTS Jose Teehankee and Julia Ong
SPOUSE / CHILDREN Pilar D. Javier / 9

Elementary / Secondary: Ateneo de Manila
College: Ateneo de Manila

TORRES, Amanteflor A.


Amanteflor Torres came from a farming family. Having been an honor student in grade school and high school, as well as a student leader, he wanted very much to become a lawyer. Thus he went to Manila to study law at the Lyceum of the Philippines, thinking to support himself by taking a series of part-time jobs.

The plan did not work out, and he had to drop out before finishing his degree; he had gotten married in 1964 and needed to work fulltime. So he approached a congressman from his province, who was able to find employment for him. Eventually, in 1976 Torres was hired to manage the politician’s business of exporting handicrafts, and later, his logging company.

Under martial law, Cagayan province was particularly notorious for the widespread human rights violations by soldiers and members of the local militias or Civilian Home Defense Force. Although at first Torres kept silent about the abuses of the regime and its supporters, it came to a point where he was openly saying, “sobra na sila” – this is going too far.

In 1984 he and other human rights advocates put up the Cagayan Valley Human Rights Organization. They organized dialogues, marches and rallies to call attention to the plight of the victims of military abuses and to seek justice for them. As an active participant in seminars, symposiums and rallies, he denounced the corruption in government and military atrocities, urged people to organize and to take a stand. He was a popular public speaker, whose humorous comments masked his firm commitment to principles.

His daughter tells an amusing story about the time he was brought in for questioning by the authorities. It was during the 1984 local election campaign, when many oppositionists were being arrested and severely tortured.
Torres prepared for his encounter with the military by dressing well and putting on some jewelry. He answered his interrogators in English, and insisted on the presence of his lawyer. After a military informer failed to confirm his identity as a rebel commander, he confidently advised his captors to release him without further ado. And they did, to the applause of his supporters who had waited for him outside the camp.

Because he had a wide following, in 1985 he was asked to join the Marcos political party, the Kilusang Bagong Lipunan. Maning declined the offer and instead joined the call for a boycott of the snap election called by the dictator. He knew the risks of this decision. Writing his daughter in Manila in January 1986, he gave instructions on what should be done in case he was arrested or killed. Still he continued to join and lead in activities to prepare for possible manipulation by the KBL of the electoral results. He also helped organize a local chapter of Bagong Alyansang Makabayan.

On the night of February 4, 1986, two days before the presidential snap presidential elections, Torres and another activist friend were walking home late in the evening when they were accosted on the street and sprayed with bullets. People who heard the shots were too frightened to come out. The bodies were recovered only the next morning.

Witnesses pointed to four policemen and a paramilitary man as suspects but there were never any apprehensions. A local town official, also a possible suspect, left the country immediately after the killing.

Overcoming their fear, thousands came to the wake and joined the funeral march. Along the highway, coins were dropped by the passengers of commuter buses in offerings of sympathy and support.

Soon after the new government came into power, the eldest daughter of Maning Torres, Irma, wrote President Corazon Aquino asking for an investigation into her father's death. No official investigation took place.

PARENTS Lauriano Torres and Corazon Argonza
SPOUSE / CHILDREN Maria Luisa Marano / 8

Elementary: Lallo Central School, Cagayan
Secondary: Lallo High School, Cagayan
College: Lyceum of the Philippines, Manila

VALCOS, Danilo C. Jr.


When Danilo Valcos Jr. was born, Ferdinand Marcos was already president of the Philippines, and so he hardly remembered a time when the country had not been under martial law. He was the youngest of four boys, and his parents were able to indulge him; he and his friends were typical teenagers, playing pranks and trying to act smart. At home, he was a helpful boy in a close-knit family.

Political issues did not interest him, not until the assassination of Benigno Aquino Jr. in 1983. Then he began to pay attention. He joined the League of Filipino Students (LFS) chapter in his town, and started joining rallies and marches. His leadership qualities started to emerge, and in 1984 he was elected vice-chair of the local LFS chapter. He also became an active campaigner for student rights and welfare, successfully leading a student boycott to protest the National Service Law which required students to undergo military training. At the time he was a senior in business administration.

His involvement in the political struggle against the dictatorship was a serious matter for him. In a letter to his parents in September 1985, which he signed “ang inyong aktibistang supling” (your activist son), he expressed the wish that their family would still be there on the day of Paglayang Bayan (national liberation). In that same letter, he set down a truth that he had found out for himself, what he called “Prinsipyo ni Danjun”:

“Ang paglilingkod at paghahandog kung walang nakaugat na pag-ibig ay walang kabuluhan at dakong huli ito ay kasakiman!!” (To serve and to offer, without love, is worthless and it can only be called greed.)

Only weeks after writing this letter, Valcos was killed when Manila police broke through the ranks of a march-rally commemorating Agrarian Reform Week. Organized by the newly-formed Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas, thousands of farmers and their supporters demanded price support for their produce, lower prices for farm inputs, an end to militarization, genuine land reform.

The marchers were crossing Taft Avenue when five patrol cars rammed their ranks. Valcos had been with the Bulacan contingent, but rushed towards the commotion when he saw that some of the protestors had been hurt. The police fired their guns, and the rallyists retaliated by throwing stones. At this point, Valcos was hit in the head by a bullet. Another marcher, Emmanuel Lazo, died right there on the pavement.

Valcos was rushed to the nearby Philippine General Hospital where he lay comatose for five days, until he died on October 26. He was only 19 years old.

PARENTS Danilo and Gloria Valcos

Elementary: Baliwag South Elementary School, Baliwag, Bulacan
Secondary: Mariano Ponce High School, Baliwag, Bulacan
College: Manila Central University, Metro Manila



Nilo Valerio wanted to be a priest, probably because he was inspired by two uncles who were priests (one of them a bishop), and his own father, who was a former seminarian and who raised his six children in piety. He had the disposition for it, being a quiet and serious boy, happy to spend his time reading, in Pangasinan where his family lived a while, even by candlelight.

Entering the minor seminary of the Society of the Divine Word (SVD) in 1962, for the next 13 years he lived and studied to become a priest. The First Quarter Storm saw him a college student at the major seminary in Tagaytay. Talk about theology of liberation had seeped into his consciousness. He started to spend his free time with the rural folk around the seminary and his summer vacations in distant parishes in Mindoro with the Mangyans, in Batangas, Tarlac and the mountain province of Abra.

After his ordination in 1975, Valerio's first assignment was as assistant parish priest in upland Abra. He knew that trouble was brewing in the area. People were gearing to resist a takeover of their ancestral lands by the Cellophil Resources Corporation. His mission would not be easy: Cellophil was owned by a crony of President Marcos. It had been granted 250,000 hectares of land to use in producing cellulose from tree plantations, and the Presidential Security Command was even said to have escorted its personnel in the beginning.

Valerio’s work included running a grade school and a high school, helping in community projects such as a rural cooperative and a ricemill. He visited far-flung villages, trekking up and down rugged mountains, sometimes on horseback or on foot.

By 1978, a full-blown rebellion had erupted in the province. Villagers were arming themselves to protect their land and their way of life. Valerio, now the parish priest, urged them to exhaust the legal means of defending themselves, but also he chose to support them openly in their struggle against the powerful corporation.

It was not long before the military suspected him not only of being a sympathizer but an actual leader of the rebellious villagers. Government spies tailed him and monitored his activities. His safety had come into serious risk.

On the advice of his friends, Valerio took temporary refuge in Manila. There he spent long hours in soul-searching and in talking with fellow priests and friends, his priesthood in a crisis. Finally he decided that it would be suicidal to return as parish priest. He left the SVD and continued working to serve the people’s interests, this time in the underground guerrilla movement. This commitment took him back to Abra and other Cordillera provinces.

Valerio was killed in 1985, with Resteta Fernandez and Soledad Salvador, during a raid by soldiers in sitio Beyeng, Bakun, Benguet. The bodies of the three were reportedly dumped in a single grave after having been beheaded. Government troops took their heads, attached them to poles and paraded these around several villages. Despite all efforts by the victims’ families, none of the bodies have been found.

PARENTS Epigenio Valerio and Candida Castillejos
SPOUSE / CHILDREN Erlinda Timbreza / 2

Secondary: Christ the King Minor Seminary, Quezon City
College: Divine Word Major Seminary, Tagaytay City

YAP, Emmanuel R.


As a teenager returning to the Philippines with his family, Emmanuel Yap was unprepared for the contrast between the comfortable life that he had experienced in America and the underdevelopment and poverty that he found in his native country.

Manny Yap’s childhood had been spent in New York City, where his father served for 12 years on the United Nations Human Rights Commission. (Pedro Yap would be appointed to the Supreme Court after the ouster of the Marcos dictatorship in 1986, and named chief justice by President Corazon Aquino in 1988, although he served for only two and a half months before retiring upon reaching the age of 70.)

A well-mannered, likable boy with a mature intelligence, Yap worked hard to overcome the handicap of being a newcomer and not being fluent in Filipino. At the Ateneo high school, he excelled in academics (graduating salutatorian) as well as in extracurricular activities.

As a student in economics at the Ateneo de Manila University, Yap’s record showed the same pattern of high marks – graduating magna cum laude – accompanied by meaningful involvement in activities outside the classroom. This time he was drawn into organizing for social reform. In 1969, he joined a school project doing community work in the slums of Sapang Palay, bringing food and used clothing, and starting discussion groups among the residents. He wanted to understand their life situation by actually trying to live with them. It was a logical development stemming from his parents’ social concern and political awareness, as well as a missionary spirit imbibed from mentors in the Jesuit school.

With the establishment of the student-activist organization Lakasdiwa, Yap became active in its education department. He familiarized himself with political theory, organized study groups, at the same time conducting relief operations in assisting victims of the strong typhoon that hit Central Luzon in 1970. In the process – deeper study of politics and ideology, side by side with interaction with poor communities and activists of a more radical stripe – Yap realized the limitations of his reform orientation. A rift developed within Lakasdiwa, which was to see the emergence of a more radical group with Yap as its secretary-general.

When the country fell under martial law, Yap continued his schooling by pursuing a master's program at the University of the Philippines School of Economics. While leading a seemingly normal life, however, Yap had joined an underground anti-dictatorship network. He would see his family from time to time, but mostly kept away from their residence in order to evade military surveillance.

On February 14, 1976, Valentine’s Day, the Yap family marked the occasion by having lunch together in a restaurant as they had been doing in the past. After lunch, Manny was dropped off at a street corner; the understanding was that 10 minutes later he would be there to receive the bunch of flowers that he had asked to be bought for him to give away to friends.

When the family car returned with the roses 10 minutes later, Manny was not there. But his family didn’t worry too much about it, until they received an anonymous telephone call a few days later, informing them that he had been picked up by the military and that he had been brought to Camp Crame.

His family did everything to look for him but Manny Yap has never been found.

PARENTS Pedro L. Yap and Flora del Rosario

Elementary: New York City public school, New York, USA
Secondary: Ateneo de Manila University
College: Ateneo de Manila
Postgraduate: University of the Philippines Diliman

Burying Our Ugly Past Invites Future Abuse

karangalan o kahangalan final

Yesterday was the 96th birthday of the late Jovito R. Salonga, founder, chair and then chair emeritus of Bantayog ng mga Bayani Foundation, Inc. and former Senate President of our country. We take this occasion to remember his contributions to our country and honor his beloved memory by reasserting once again our foundation’s basic stand on what it takes to be a hero in our country, and how we can move on towards justice and reconciliation for the sake of national unity.

Senator Salonga’s guidance serves us well on these points. In a speech he made in 1998 during the annual honoring of heroes and martyrs at the Bantayog ng mga Bayani grounds, he said:

“As long as we continue to remember the martyrdom and the heroism of those who in the darkest period of our nation’s history since 1946 gave their lives that we might become free, and as long as we resolve never again to allow the forces of darkness to prevail, this annual celebration will be truly a day of meaningful tribute to the men and women whom we honor here…

“Sunud-sunod ang mga pangyayari sa ating bansa na dapat ikabahala ng mga nagmamahal sa kalayaan at katotohanan. You will recall there was a move to honor the man who imposed martial law and dictatorial rule by burying him in the Libingan ng mga Bayani and thus making it appear that he too should be acclaimed as a hero. The excuse was a masterpiece of deception, namely that by burying Marcos in the Libingan ng mga Bayani, we not only honor him, we can also bury the past. Fortunately, it was the collective resistance of an outraged people which defeated that move…

“What they really want is for us to forget the ugly past instead of facing it and doing something about it – they want us to forget the torture, the salvaging, the disappearances, the extrajudicial executions and assassinations, on top of the plunder of the nation’s wealth, the extortions, the larcenies and the acts of graft and corruption.”

“Ngunit hindi tayo maaaring makalimot …

“The question may be asked, are we not willing to forgive and reconcile with those who caused us so much grief and misery? Yes, we are prepared to forgive and reconcile – but only after truth is recognized and justice is served. Truth and justice first, then forgiveness and reconciliation later for the sake of national unity. For forgiveness without truth is an empty ritual and reconciliation without justice is meaningless, and worse, an invitation to more abuses in the future.”

We repeat the timely warning: Forgiveness without truth is an invitation to more abuse. With these statements in mind, we now address this heartfelt appeal to the incoming Duterte administration:

Heed our heroes. Don’t do it.

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