.png)
Lessons Beyond the Lecture Hall: What UP Diliman Teaches You About Resistance
- 2 days ago
- 7 min read
Words by: Rachael Estanislao
Art by: Pio Gonzalez
The Roots of Resistance in UP Diliman
If you walk through UP Diliman, the campus feels constantly in motion. Classrooms don’t define learning here, and the lessons that stick aren’t always found in textbooks. This spirit did not appear overnight. Student activism at UP has deep roots—over a century of defending the university and demanding accountability.
Today, that legacy continues. The movement never stops, and neither does the learning. Every step on campus reminds you that it is a living testament to decades of inquiry, courage, and unified pursuit. This is what it means to be an Iskolar ng Bayan: carrying knowledge with responsibility and turning that responsibility into action.
With that, let us guide you through the legacy and experiences of current and former student activists, whose efforts continue to shape campus life and leave a lasting mark on our country. Ever wondered what UP Diliman teaches beyond the lecture halls? Here’s what resistance for an Iskolar looks like.
Rallies, Walkouts, and Protests Today
Our society as a whole stands at an interesting point in our nation's history: heightened state terrorism, a larger push for neoliberal education, and widespread, hydra-headed corruption are all foregrounded by a Marcos-Duterte administration. These issues have trickled into various levels of society, and our university is far from exempt. The university prioritizes commercialized campus spaces like GyudFood and UP Dilimall while sidelining the development of academic infrastructure. This month, the CAL Faculty Center marked ten years since it was burned down, and a decade later, faculty members and other constituents of the university remain displaced, without a space of their own.
These issues feed into our dismay, disgust, and disdain for the systems and institutions that force us into a cycle of pain, injustice, and struggle. Various organizations may look to commemorate red-letter dates or rely on the spontaneity of ongoing issues. Still, the essence of arousing, organizing, and mobilizing remains all the same: to remember. To express dismay with peers, to contextualize learnings in class discussions, and to paste statement stickers on notebooks—these are all ways to remember.
A glance at any poster-plastered jeepney stop, any graffiti on green iron sheets, or any sticker on lampposts tells us that we are not allowed to forget. If we dare to, we are not allowed to forget so easily.
Voices of Experience
Activism often begins with the simple awareness that the problems discussed in class exist in real life.
For Kenneth Castor, now Chief of Staff at the Office of the Student Regent, that awakening came during the political climate of 2016, where becoming an activist expanded his understanding of issues he had previously only encountered at the surface level.
“When I became active, my perspective widened. You start seeing how policies affect people differently—women, workers, and other marginalized groups. You begin to understand their realities.”
Immersion, however, comes with personal costs. Castor explained that being active meant balancing commitments between academics, activism, and family expectations.
“Activism requires sacrifice. There are times when your priorities shift—your time, your studies, [and] even your relationship with family. Sometimes their concern isn’t disagreement with your advocacy but worry for your safety.”
Like Castor, Justin Felip Daduya also began with awareness that deepened through his work as a campus journalist. While exposing stories from outside the classroom, the former Executive Vice Chairperson of UP Solidaridad would also expose himself to the tangible consequences of political decisions.
“In high school, I was already politically aware,” he recalled, “but awareness is different from activism.” He recalled covering farmers in a hacienda where gunfire was directed at them, following the situation through livestreams. “It made me realize that these issues aren’t abstract. Real communities are being harmed.”
A further turning point came with the 2022 killing of Lumad teacher Chad Booc. “It made it clear that this isn’t just about elections—it’s a matter of life and death every day... As a student, it became my duty to join that struggle." Still, activism carries emotional strain. “You sometimes feel like you’re hitting your head against a wall […] Even activist spaces aren’t perfect, but we keep doing what we can.”
Echoing Daduya’s emphasis on immersion, Patricia Mae Dela Cruz found her path through student conversations and advocacy-centered pursuits. As the former National Chairperson of KASAMA sa UP, activism grew naturally for Dela Cruz.
“I was already aware of social issues in high school,” she said, “but college gave me the space to act on those beliefs.” She stressed that engagement must go beyond elections, especially on issues that directly affect students.
Dela Cruz also highlighted the role of community in sustaining activism: “Your environment shapes you—you learn from classmates, organizing together, and engaging with communities.” Despite challenges in mobilizing students, she finds hope in the resilience of student institutions that continue to represent their voices.
The three activists, shaped by their individual experiences, share a similar message for the next generation of UP students: meaningful change rarely happens alone—organization, collective action, and a clear sense of purpose are essential.
The reflections shared by these activists also reveal a common tension among young people. Fear, hesitation, and uncertainty are not personal failures, but conditions shaped by systems that discourage people from challenging the status quo.
In an ideological state, the default for everyone is to remain passive. The system is built to make inaction the path of least resistance—an environment where people feel threatened, disincentivized, or unsure if it is their place to act. Hence, one shouldn’t hate themselves for feeling afraid, and movements shouldn’t judge those who aren’t fully organized or committed as morally wrong. Hesitation is natural.
However, just because fear and hesitation feel natural, just because it is the default, does not mean you have to stay there forever. Often, the biggest challenge becomes a bystander dilemma: you see the need for action but ask, “Why me?”
It is not a moral failing to hesitate, but if no one acts, everyone suffers—and the cost of inaction falls on all of us.
The Role of Protests in Society
One of the clearest expressions of this collective action is through protests. Protests have long been an important way for citizens to express their disagreement and push for change. On university campuses, they are especially powerful, as they link local concerns to national issues and show that the struggles of students often mirror larger problems in society. This is where the UP spirit truly manifests: matatapang, matatalino, walang takot, kahit kanino.
Historically, UP students have demonstrated this courage in action. During the EDSA Revolution, they organized rallies, teach-ins, and community mobilizations to oppose authoritarian rule. More recently, their activism has defended academic freedom, fought for workers’ rights, supported maninindas and student kiosks, challenged policies threatening the environment and livelihoods, resisted campus militarization, and demanded accountability from government officials.
Building on this legacy, protests remain an important way for people to make their concerns heard. They bring attention to issues that are often overlooked and ensure that both the public and those in power take notice. More than simply expressing opinions, protests push institutions to respond and take responsibility.At the same time, they encourage greater participation. As students and citizens witness or take part in these movements, they become more aware of social and political issues and feel a stronger responsibility to engage. In this way, people move beyond silence and take a more active role in their communities.
Challenges and Risks
As students, one’s responsibility to their nation comes into conflict with their academic responsibilities. Academic pressures mount as protests clash with deadlines, class schedules, and the disapproving looks of various individuals. Not everyone has the same capacity to participate—some cannot afford to simply leave class, take time off, or risk institutional punishment, while others face financial or social constraints that force them to conform.
Public criticism and political backlash, including red-tagging on social media, paint activists as "troublemakers." For UP students, this fear is intensified: participating in rallies often brings the added risk of being stereotyped as NPA sympathizers or labeled “communists” simply for voicing demands for accountability and justice. Concerns over personal safety loom especially large during mobilizations, as authorities resort to tear gas, water cannons, and brute force. These pressures often seep into daily life, causing anxiety, sleepless nights, and the constant weighing of risks against responsibilities.
The emotional and mental toll is immense when fear for oneself collides with a government that punishes dissent, compounded by the relentless pressures of classes, finances, and society. Yet, even in these moments of strain and uncertainty, students draw strength from solidarity—the knowledge that they are not alone, that others share the struggle and stand beside them.
The weight is constant, the stakes high—but still, we act. Still, we resist. Still, we persist. And in this persistence, the question now is, "What comes next?”
What’s Next for Student Resistance?
Resistance lies within the youth because ahead of their futures lies a shadow that must not continue to exist. In the hopes of seeing a better future, the campus appears to be in constant motion because its people refuse to yield. Students refuse to accept faulty systems embodied by decades of corruption, repression, and inequality that they inherit without consent.
Every step across the campus is a ripple, every voice is a spark. Sometimes, those sparks ignite into protests—the heartbeat of activism—but resistance does not end with a march or a chant.
While their collective efforts shape the nation, we also witness the effects of activism in ways that can inspire personal reflection: what can I, as a student, do to contribute?
This leads us to consider our own role. Even the most disadvantaged student carries a unique privilege in simply being able to study at UP—a right, yes, but also an opportunity that many others are denied. At the same time, those from the highest social or economic sectors also hold privileges that come with responsibility. Recognizing these—whether personal, social, or economic—can ignite a sense of duty and turn awareness into action.
Standing with this insight means acknowledging both truths at once: hesitation is human, yet waiting for someone else will not bring change. Every Iskolar ng Bayan faces a choice—to observe or to act, to stay silent or to speak, to accept injustice or to challenge it. Understanding the world as it is is not enough; true responsibility comes from deciding the role one will play in shaping it. Being a UP student carries its own weight—the expectation to rise above comfort, to use knowledge not just for oneself but for society, and to honor the legacy of those who fought for the freedoms and opportunities we now enjoy.
It is through this understanding and sense of duty that our actions gain meaning, and every choice we make, no matter how small, defines our impact as UP students.
Sustaining activism across generations requires courage, creativity, and commitment. It calls on every student to ask: How can I help? How can I stand with those who have fought before me and pave the way for those who will come after?
The future of resistance is not written; it is carried in the hands of those willing to act. And so, the call is clear: rise, organize, persist.
Change will not wait. Neither should you.
Comments