By CIVICUS
Feb 27 2026 (IPS)
CIVICUS discusses the criminalisation of dissent in the Philippines with Kyle A Domequil, spokesperson of the Free Tacloban 5 Network, a campaign supporting journalist Frenchie Mae Cumpio, human rights defender Marielle Domequil and their co-accused and advocating for their release.
Kyle A Domequil
On 22 January, a Philippines court convicted Cumpio and Domequil of terrorism financing, sentencing them to between 12 and 18 years in prison. The two were among five people arrested in February 2020 following unlawful police and military raids. Rights groups condemned the verdict as a miscarriage of justice, arguing it exemplifies how anti-terror laws silence critics through ‘red-tagging’, a practice of publicly accusing people of communist or terrorist links without evidence, subjecting them to surveillance and exposing them to arrest and violence.What were the circumstances of the arrests?
In the early hours of 7 February 2020, police and military forces raided the offices of several organisations in Tacloban City. Five people were arrested: Cumpio, a community journalist and Domequil, a Rural Missionaries of the Philippines lay worker, along with Alexander Philip Abinguna, a member of Karapatan’s National Council, People Surge Network spokesperson Marissa Cabaljao and Mira Legion of Bagong Alyansang Makabayan-Eastern Visayas. They’re collectively known as the Tacloban 5.
The raids followed Karapatan publicly raising concerns about extensive surveillance of its office and other organisations in the city. Days before her arrest, Cumpio reported to the Centre for Media Freedom and Responsibility that masked men had been tailing the staff of Eastern Vista, the local news website where she served as executive director. Cumpio was already being followed and Legion received a very suspicious call from a man saying who just kept saying ‘stop it’. Cumpio was able to publish on Eastern Vista about what was happening to them just a few days before the arrest.
The Tacloban 5 have denounced that evidence was planted during the raid. Ammunition, explosives, firearms and a Communist Party flag were allegedly found where they slept, under pillows and mattresses and even near Cabaljao’s one-year-old child’s crib. They were unable to witness the seizure because they were turned away during the search. Authorities also seized ₱557,360 (approx. US$9,600) in cash.
Cabaljao and Legion faced bailable charges of illegal possession of firearms and were eventually granted bail. On top of that, Abinguna, Cumpio and Domequil faced non-bailable charges of illegal possession of explosives. Since their arrest, they remained detained while facing successive charges widely viewed as politically motivated. Now Cumpio and Domequil have been convicted, while Abinguna remains in pretrial detention six years after being detained.
What evidence did the court rely on to convict Cumpio and Domequil?
The conviction rested almost entirely on testimonies from four ‘rebel returnees’, people who claim to have left armed groups and who receive financial support from the military. They testified that on 29 March 2019, they saw Cumpio and Domequil at a camp of the New People’s Army (NPA), the armed wing of the Communist Party, handing cash, ammunition and clothing to an NPA commander.
There was no corroborating proof or documentary or photographic evidence, just those testimonies from military assets whose credibility should have been questioned. The defence presented evidence that Cumpio and Domequil were elsewhere that day and they also presented documents of their activities, but the court dismissed this.
The court acquitted Cumpio and Domequil of the illegal possession of explosives and firearms charges, ruling the evidence was based on unreliable witnesses and inconsistent narratives and there was indeed an opportunity for planting evidence. Yet on the same lies and perjured testimonies, the same court found them guilty of terrorism financing and sentenced them to 12 to 18 years in prison.
This verdict is particularly troubling given that in October 2025 the Court of Appeals had overturned a civil forfeiture case against them, finding there was little reason to believe they were connected to the NPA. The Court of Appeals even warned against the hasty labelling of human rights workers as terrorists.
How do anti-terror laws and red-tagging enable cases such as this?
They function as tools of political persecution. Red-tagging labels people as linked to insurgent or terrorist groups without credible evidence. Once red-tagged, they face arrest, harassment, surveillance and threats. It creates a climate where suspicion replaces due process.
The anti-terrorism law contains vague, overly broad provisions. Authorities can associate community organising humanitarian work and journalism with armed groups, even without intent to commit violence. Cumpio was reporting on red-tagging and illegal searches before her arrest. Her radio programme was also red-tagged.
Public vilification combined with expansive security legislation produces a repeatable pattern: stigmatise, raid, charge and detain for years. Cumpio and Domequil’s case reflects this architecture of repression.
Who celebrated their conviction, and what does that reveal?
The National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict (NTF-ELCAC) celebrated the verdict as a ‘decisive legal victory against terrorism’. NTF-ELCAC is a government body that systematically targets activists, human rights defenders and journalists through red-tagging. It has repeatedly accused Karapatan of being a communist front. It labels legitimate civil society organisations as terrorist supporters, creating the pretext for raids, arrests and prosecutions.
When a court convicts a community journalist based on compromised testimony and the government’s counter-insurgency apparatus celebrates, it reveals the conviction’s true purpose: silencing dissent and punishing those who document abuses.
What’s happened to the other members of the Tacloban 5?
Cabaljao and Legion were released on bail, but not without suffering frozen assets, multiple cases, extended detention and relentless red-tagging. Abinguna remains in pretrial detention and his trial continues at Tacloban City Regional Trial Court, where the prosecution has so far presented fewer than half its listed witnesses, effectively delaying proceedings and prolonging his detention.
While detained, Abinguna was hit with additional trumped-up charges: double murder and attempted murder, based solely on testimony from a ‘rebel returnee’ who tried to link him to an alleged NPA ambush in October 2019. Cumpio faced the same charges until a court granted her motion to quash them in November 2025. Abinguna’s motion was denied.
Beyond this case, what does Karapatan’s documentation reveal about the broader pattern?
Karapatan documents arbitrary imprisonment, enforced disappearances, extrajudicial killings and militarisation across the Philippines. We conduct fact-finding missions, file cases through courts and international human rights bodies, provide psychosocial support to victims and help organise victims’ families.
Under the current government, the Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020 and the Terrorism Financing Prevention and Suppression Act of 2012 have been aggressively enforced not to protect the public, but to persecute critics and suppress dissent.
The Tacloban 5 case exposes how counter-terrorism laws, fabricated charges, judicial harassment and years of unjust detention silence activists, humanitarian workers, human rights defenders and journalists. It’s not an isolated incident; it’s a deliberate strategy.
According to our latest data, there are around 700 political prisoners in the Philippines. Many face the same pattern: red-tagging, questionable raids, planted evidence, reliance on testimony from military assets and prolonged detention.
What happens next?
The case is under appeal. All available legal remedies are being pursued. The conviction needs rigorous review, particularly of due process violations and evidentiary standards in terrorism-related cases. Courts must ensure national security claims don’t override fundamental rights.
But we need more than case-by-case appeals. Structural reforms are essential. Red-tagging must be explicitly prohibited with those responsible held accountable. The anti-terrorism law must be repealed or fundamentally amended to prevent misuse against human rights defenders and journalists. Safeguards must be strengthened to prevent unlawful raids, evidence-planting and security force abuses. NTF-ELCAC must be held accountable for its role in criminalising dissent.
Ultimately, prevention of similar cases requires the dismantling of mechanisms that treat dissent as crime. Without accountability and structural reform, the criminalisation of activism will continue.
CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.
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Mamadou Ba, president and founder of Maison des Talibés, speaks to talibés in Saint-Louis, Senegal, at the opening ceremony of the organisation's centre on Jan. 1, 2026. Courtesy: Ramata Haidara
By Megan Fahrney
SAINT-LOUIS, Senegal, Feb 27 2026 (IPS)
When you walk through the streets of Senegal’s cities, you notice them almost immediately: young boys in worn clothes, clutching plastic cans or tin bowls, weaving between cars and pedestrians to ask for spare change or food. They are often barefoot, alone and hungry. These children are known as talibés.
Boys aged approximately 5-15, known as talibé children, reside in daaras, schools run by marabouts.
Human Rights Watch says many marabouts, “who serve as de facto guardians, conscientiously carry out the important tradition of providing young boys with a religious and moral education.”
However, many of the schools are unregulated.
“However, thousands of so-called teachers use religious education as a cover for economic exploitation of the children in their charge, with no fear of being investigated or prosecuted,” the report says. The talibés from these ‘schools’ spend much of their days begging for food on the streets and suffering a range of human rights abuses. They regularly experience beatings, inadequate food and medical care, and neglect.
Mamadou Ba, president and founder of Maison des Talibés, is striving to change the narrative. Ba created the organisation Maison des Talibés (“House of Talibés”) three years ago in Saint-Louis, Senegal, with the goal of empowering talibés, improving their living conditions, and teaching them skills to help them succeed in young adulthood.
“I want to improve talibés’ lives,” Ba said. “I’m trying to help them in the future when they grow up [to be] self-sufficient.”
Ba himself was a talibé as a child. A Senegal native, Ba was sent away to Daara at the age of seven in a city called Sokone. He said he remained there for eight years, enduring very tough conditions and was not fed by his marabout.
Once Ba aged out of the daara, he moved to Dakar and later Saint-Louis to be a marabout.
While in Saint-Louis, Ba began to devote his time to French and English study. He got involved with an international organisation that supported talibés but found their approach of simply donating food to the talibés was not going to cut it. Ba knew he needed to equip the children with skills to succeed in young adulthood after leaving the daara.
“They have one way out, which is becoming a marabout,” Ba said. “I don’t want them basically to have one choice, which is a Quranic teacher. I want them to have different choices, different options, [to become] whatever they want.”
Maison des Talibés began as a true grassroots effort. Ba formed relationships with local marabouts, gaining their trust and allowing him to enter the daaras to provide the talibés services. He reached out to his friend, Abib Fall, a doctor in the area, who agreed to provide medical care to talibés in his free time. Ba himself began teaching the children English, providing food and rehabilitating the daaras.
“It’s very fundamental to have a connection with the marabouts; otherwise, you cannot do this work,” Ba said. “I speak the language that they speak, so they listen to me more … I’m a former talibé, so I know them very well.”
Equipped with English language skills, Ba expanded the organisation by speaking with international visitors and businesses in Saint-Louis to request financial support and recruit volunteers.
“The objective is education and handcraft,” Ba said. “I know that if they have the education and the handcraft, they will be like me or better.”
“I know how you get them there, because I went through that and I experienced it,” Ba said.
A 2019 report by Human Rights Watch documented 16 talibé deaths from abuse and neglect and dozens of cases of beatings, neglect, sexual abuse and the chaining and imprisonment in daaras. An estimated 50,000 young boys live as talibés across Senegal, as of 2017.
Though families often send their children to live in daaras voluntarily, the system is widely considered to be trafficking. Many talibés in Senegal come from impoverished communities in Guinea-Bissau and other neighbouring countries.
Over the years, the daara system has evolved from what it once was. Historically, talibés resided predominantly in rural environments, where they worked on farms in exchange for food or received donations from villagers. With urbanisation, the system has transformed into exploitation and begging.
Ramata Haidara, an American Fulbright fellow in Saint-Louis, met Ba outside of a museum in the city. After learning about Maison des Talibés, Haidara immediately got involved as a volunteer English teacher.
Haidara said she has witnessed her students’ confidence grow over time.
“[We] show them that you deserve to have resources and an education and people who are kind to you,” Haidara said.
On January 1, 2026, Maison des Talibés unveiled its first physical building to support talibés by giving them a safe space outside of the daara to learn skills, attend classes, eat, shower and receive medical care.
The centre’s opening ceremony drew over 100 talibés. Ba said the organisation serves many more than that in total, and that he hopes to expand its reach in the future.
Cheikh Tidiane Diallo, a perfume and soap maker living in Morocco, was one of Maison des Talibés’ first students. Diallo said he credits Ba and the organisation with giving him the skills and connections to move to Morocco and pursue his career.
“He has a good heart,” Diallo said of Ba. “He has never given up. I really appreciate that passion from him.”
Ba said he sees his younger self in the talibés he serves and is inspired by them just as they are inspired by him.
“This is a place where they can laugh, a place where they can eat, a place where they can feel okay,” Ba said. “This is our home.”
IPS UN Bureau Report
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