RIVERMAN’S VISTA | 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨’𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲

QUEZON CITY (MindaNews / 27 July 2026) — I missed last Thursday’s Ateneo University Press launch in BGC of Deeper Ground, Darker Shadows: The Making of a Mindanao Rebel, the memoir of Eddie L. Quitoriano that Ateneo University Press has published (following its publication in 2025 by the University of Wisconsin University Press).

But I will introduce the book in Cagayan de Oro. That August launch feels exactly right to me.

In fact, Cagayan de Oro is the belly of the beast, Mindanao the dark heart, of this book. There, in the campus of Xavier University, I met and taught Ed Quitoriano in June 1981. He had just been released from detention. His rise in the CPP-NPA still lay ahead.

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑺𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅

Ed’s memoir is riveting. I have read it three times: the first time last September (Ed had given me a copy of the University of Wisconsin edition) when I could not put it down on a long flight to New York City from Manila; the second time during the Christmas break, while on vacation in a Mindoro beach, relishing and learning from Ed’s adventures; and a third time, for this review.

Someone described Ed as a Filipino Jason Bourne. In fact, he is more than that. His book is not just a thriller; it is a sweeping chronicle of conviction, struggle, and transformation. From his early days as an idealist student activist and seminarian in Misamis Oriental and Cagayan de Oro, Eddie Quitoriano charts a path that takes him deep into the heart of the Philippine revolutionary movement.

His transition into the ranks of the New People’s Army in Mindanao, as a raw recruit, and slowly rising the ranks as a significant official of the General Command of the CPP-NPA and later as a diplomat for the movement is portrayed with raw honesty, capturing both the fervor of youthful rebellion and the harsh realities of guerrilla life.

The narrative does not romanticize the hardships; instead, it situates them within the broader context of an island and a nation grappling with inequality and political unrest

Eddie Quitoriano, born and raised in the coastal town of Initao, Misamis Oriental, was a seminarian in the Archdiocese of Cagayan de Oro. His bishop, who loved him as a good father would, was the gentle Irishman Patrick Cronin of the Missionary Society of St. Columban. He would play a part in Ed’s story, but that comes later.

Activism soon called Ed in Cagayan de Oro. Martial law was about to be declared.

The mountains of Mindanao became his home. He joined the New People’s Army (NPA) as a recruit, truly experienced being a “walang sapatos” (no shoes) warrior. In a real sense, Ed, with his humble beginnings, is an organic intellectual as described by Antonio Gramsci.

He rose through the ranks of the CPP-NPA over hard years. He served in Northern Mindanao (which included the Agusan and Surigao provinces), the Mindanao Commission in Davao City, and eventually was appointed a member of the NPA General Command.

The memoir shows guerrilla life in full. Hunger, fear, and loss fill many pages. Martial law darkened those Mindanao years. He survived operations, skirmishes, detention, and torture.

Then came Kampanyang Ahos, the great purge. Comrades turned on comrades in that terror. It remains the Mindanao movement’s deepest and rawest wound, still unresolved insofar as the victims and their families are concerned. The most poignant passages of this book is when Ed shares stories of that terrible time and its aftermath, including conversations with protagonists and victims in later years.

Ed’s journey later crossed many oceans. He sought solidarity in Pyongyang’s austere halls. He met the Japan Communist Party. He reached the Netherlands, Libya, and Syria. He stood with the Sandinistas and Palestinians.

These pages reveal a wide web of struggle. Yet Ed always returned to Mindanao.

𝑭𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑬𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚

I have known Eddie Quitoriano for forty-five years.

In one of his arrests, in 1981, Ed was released to the custody of Archbishop Cronin. He was then sent to Xavier University which is where we met.

In the campus, word of mouth about the presence of a revolutionary leader quickly spread. Everyone looked up to this mysterious figure, older than most of his classmates and even his young philosophy professor on his first year of teaching.

I taught Ed in my Existentialism class. We discussed Marxism in his oral exams. He argued its relevance to the Philippines. I challenged him of course, but found myself conceding to his arguments. I learned as much as I taught. I was becoming a Marxist myself, seriously considered joining the armed struggle.

I followed Ed’s rise in the movement for the next twenty years. But I was never sure what he was doing until he published his memoir.

Eddie Quitoriano’s story unfolds like a historical epic, each chapter a clash of ideals and destinies.

In the beginning, the movement is fragile, an infant born in the shadows of seminaries and student halls, nurtured by whispers of justice and the restless energy of youth. Later, it matures and becomes more complicated, less pure, more hardnosed and unfortunately more cruel and indifferent to individuality. Collectivism becomes an end and not a means for greater ends.

Eddie Quitoriano, the seminarian, steps into the fire of activism, his voice rising against the silence of oppression. Soon, the classroom gives way to the jungle, and the young activist becomes a guerrilla, carrying both rifle and conviction through the rugged mountains of Mindanao.

But the struggle does not remain confined to the archipelago. As the years pass, Quitoriano transforms into a diplomat for the revolution, a wandering emissary who carries the Philippine cause across oceans.

In Pyongyang’s austere halls, in Japan’s crowded streets, in the Netherlands’ quiet meeting rooms, and in Nicaragua’s fervent assemblies, he seeks solidarity, weaving together a tapestry of comradeship that spans continents. Each encounter is a milestone, each alliance a lifeline for a movement fighting to survive in a shifting political and social landscape.

What makes the book compelling is its global reach. Quitoriano’s later role as diplomat for the CPP-NPA reveals the interconnectedness of struggles across continents. His accounts of soliciting solidarity from Pyongyang, Japan Communist Party, his comrades in the Netherlands, Libya and Syria, the Sandinistas of Nicaragua, the militants of the Palestinian Liberation Organization and other revolutionaries from the farthest corners of the world highlight the ideological bridges built during a time when revolutionary movements sought strength in unity.

These chapters provide a rare glimpse into the networks of fraternal support that sustained the Philippine left, while also exposing the challenges of aligning diverse international perspectives.

𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚’𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆

Stylistically, Ed’s memoir balances personal reflection with historical documentation. Quitoriano’s voice is at once intimate and political, weaving anecdotes of camaraderie, sacrifice, and disillusionment into a broader tapestry of resistance.

The book’s strength lies in its refusal to simplify: it acknowledges contradictions, ideological debates, and the toll of prolonged struggle on individuals and communities.

Ed’s memoir is important because he uses a distinctly Mindanawon lens in telling his story. Nobody else in the movement has done that.

Mindanao is where the communist insurrection found its laboratory of approaches in winning the revolution. The strength- and weakness – of the Mindanao revolutionary movement is the backbone of the revolution. And in the center of it all is the Mindanao Commission (KOMMID or Minda which is more used today, maybe to distance itself from Kahos) as one colleague explained to me once.

This memoir is also important because Ed is able to tell his story without judgement and rancor against his former comrades nor his former enemies in government.

The beauty of this book is the truth is spoken to power but gently and without anger. And because of that, it enlightens.

Ed is no longer constrained by party discipline, but he uses his freedom responsibly and with empathy.

For a book of this nature, it is surprising to see there are no security or legal issues that it raises.

As someone who has seen for four decades how the Communist Party of the Philippines, the Mindanao Commission, and the New Peoples’ Army have operated, Ed’s book validates my own experiences and observations, including the imperfections, sometimes manifested in terrible outcomes like Kahos, of revolutionary struggle.

I have also seen and experienced personally, as stories in this memoir show, how comrades readily abandon and betray comrades and allies.

But in spite of all of these, I would still without question say how much I admire Eddie Quitoriano and all revolutionaries, including those I know still active in the Mindanao Commission and those recently martyred like red warrior Vince Francis Dingding.

All of them have given up a lot for the cause. And while victory is very far away, even unlikely, I still honor the sacrifice.

This book should be read together with the biography of Edgar Jopson by Benjamin Pimentel (U.G. An Underground Tale, 3rd edition) and Subversive Lives (by the Quimpo siblings).

The writings of Joma Sison are of course informative to understand the context of Ed’s narratives.

A big, almost full picture, of the history of the CPP and NPA, and especially the Mindanao Commission comes alive in these books. But Ed’s book, because the lens is that of a Mindanawon, is special for us from the great island.

I have seen that history myself as an academic, bystander, and fellow traveler.

The movement is not in the best place right now, almost crushed by Duterte, who ironically was their main ally in Davao, but it will survive. Because it replenishes itself with new cadres, as disciplined and committed as Eddie Quitoriano. This is true for Mindanao and all regions.

I have seen new, younger cadres continue to join and rise, as committed as Ed. And from the Mindanao Commission still comes the best and the brightest. This I can say with personal knowledge.

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆

Let me speak plainly about the armed struggle. In the 1980s, it seemed the only road. Marcos ruled by martial law and terror. Democratic space had almost fully closed. Many good people took up arms then.

That context has changed a great deal. We have elections, courts, and open press, an imperfect democracy for sure. But young people and other committed persons have options if they want social change.

Armed struggle today should serve defense alone. Offensive war has lost its old justification. I cannot see any possibility of revolutionary victory in the years or even decades to come. There is no countryside that surrounds the cities, hardly any remote areas anymore as there used to be.

I must admit that in recent years, especially during the terrible years of the Duterte regime, I considered once again supporting the armed struggle and especially to work fulltime to strengthen the movement in Mindanao. Thankfully, circumstances, including a cancer and mental health (bipolar) diagnosis, stopped me in my tracks. And I decided to remain a human rights and climate justice lawyer and a law, philosophy, and governance professor where I could make much more difference.

The Church itself has moved on this. Pope Francis called just war criteria hard to invoke. He warned we cannot see war as solution.

Pope Leo XIV went further last May. His encyclical Magnifica Humanitas named just war outdated. The powerful abused it to justify any war. Yet he kept the right to self-defense. That teaching fits our Philippine moment well.

Sadly, the killing has not stopped in our own time.

The massacre in Toboso, where soldiers of the 79th Infantry Battalion killed nineteen people—ten New People’s Army fighters and nine unarmed civilians, including a community journalist, university students, and two minors—reflects what Justin Daduya and I called in our essay “The Ghost of Kawit and Toboso” our country’s “crisis of conscience.” While many Filipinos mourned the dead, others mocked the victims and their grieving families, revealing how structural violence has numbed our moral sense.

Drawing on Johan Galtung, we argued that poverty, landlessness, and displacement make extraordinary violence seem ordinary, allowing state killings to be accepted as necessary for peace and order. If we are to prevent another Toboso, the government and the NDFP must return to peace talks under the 1992 Hague Joint Declaration and revive the commitment they made in the 2023 Oslo statement.

The Council of Leaders for Peace Initiatives, where I serve as a convenor, has urged both sides back to the negotiating table, recognizing that corruption and failed reforms only deepen the grievances that fuel armed conflict. As President Marcos delivers his SONA this Monday, I hope he recommits to the peace process.

At the same time, we must resist treating every soldier or police officer as an enemy. As Justin and I wrote, most are ordinary people who entered public service hoping to protect their communities, and many come from the same working-class and peasant families whose struggles lie at the heart of the conflict. We can demand full accountability for Toboso while rejecting blanket hatred of everyone in uniform.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝑬𝒅’𝒔 𝒋𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚

Eddie Quitoriano’s memoir shows where the old road led. Let it also point us toward peace. That would honor every sacrifice he recorded.

Ed kept struggling long after the mountains. He reinvented himself again and again.

Today he is more productive than when he was in the NPA. He now works for peace and conflict resolution, for environmental protection and indigenous peoples rights. Sometimes we collaborate and it is always a wonderful experience.

Ed is a father and a grandfather too, the most important jobs one could have in a lifetime.

Eddie Quitoriano’s memoir is not just the story of one man but a mirror of a generation’s pursuit of justice. It is a valuable contribution to Philippine political history, offering readers both inspiration and cautionary lessons about the costs of revolution.

For those interested in activism, revolutionary movements, including underground diplomacy, and the lived experience of ideological commitment, this book is a must-read.

I currently mentor dozens of activists of diverse ideological persuasions. I will recommend this book as essential reading material in my EDs (educational discussions) with them.

Indeed, Ed’s journey is unforgettable. In the end, through triumphs and betrayals, through hunger and hope, his journey mirrors the resilience of the movement itself—ever struggling, ever adapting, ever searching for relevance in a world that refuses to stand still.

The highest form of struggle is doing right wherever you stand. And Eddie Quitoriano, my former student and friend, a Mindanao rebel, has done that.

(Dean Antonio Gabriel La Viña is from Cagayan de Oro and is a professor of law, philosophy, politics, governance in several universities, including in Mindanao.  Dean Tony has been a human rights lawyer for 36 years. He is currently the managing partner of La Viña Zarate and Associates, a member of the Permanent Court of Arbitration in The Hague, and Chair of the Jurisprudence and Legal Philosophy Department of the Philippine Judicial Academy. Dean Tony is founding president of the Movement Against Disinformation and the founding chair of the Mindanao Climate Justice Resource Facility and the Mindanao Center for Scholarships, Sports, and Spirituality.)