What’s new? The Philippine Maoists, one of Asia’s longest-running communist insurgencies, are on the defensive, with Manila pushing for definitive victory through counter-insurgent operations and development initiatives. Fighting has fallen in intensity nationwide, but pockets of conflict remain in some of the country’s poorest and most remote areas.

Why does it matter? While the government has indisputably weakened the rebels, somewhere between 1,200 and 2,000 fighters remain under arms. Their elusiveness and residual community support mean that efforts to vanquish the guerrillas on the battlefield will be arduous and prone to spurring new manifestations of armed conflict. 

What should be done? Both sides should look to fresh peace talks, due to begin soon, as the best route to settling the conflict. To overcome the mutual distrust that scuppered previous negotiations, government and rebels should craft steps to reduce violence and build confidence before turning to major points on the agenda.

Conflict between the Philippine government and communist rebels persists despite the state’s attempts to force the insurgents’ final surrender. Since peace talks collapsed in 2017, Manila has tried to defeat the rebels by combining military pressure with development projects in remote villages across the country. The strategy seems to be paying off. Estimated rebel numbers now stand between 1,200 and 2,000 – far from the 25,000-strong force of the 1980s – while fighting is confined to largely impoverished territorial redoubts. But the rebels still manage to defy predictions of their demise. Clashes caused the deaths of at least 250 fighters and civilians in 2023. To mitigate the impact of conflict, the government should seize the opportunity of a fresh round of peace talks expected to begin soon by crafting concrete steps to reduce violence, build confidence between the sides and address some of the rebels’ substantive demands. Authorities should also seek to overcome lingering mistrust of the state in rural areas by curbing military and police abuses, as well as redoubling efforts to improve socio-economic conditions.

Over almost five decades of conflict, Manila has relied mainly on counter-insurgency campaigns to thwart the communist rebels, while making occasional forays into peace talks. During his term of office from 2016 to 2022, President Rodrigo Duterte initiated a peace process that broke down amid resurging violence. Since then, Manila has battled to increase the scope and pace of counter-insurgency operations, partly through an inter-agency mechanism known as the National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict. Determined to finish off the insurgency, the government has endeavoured to expand state presence and deliver basic services in the most conflict-affected regions. Following the killing of several high-ranking commanders over the last three years, as well as the death of the group’s founder, Jose Maria Sison, in December 2022, the rebels have found themselves increasingly adrift and on the defensive. Arrests and surrenders of fighters have come at a steady clip.

These battlefield gains have nevertheless fallen short of achieving a definitive end to the conflict. Without doubt, some Philippine regions have regained peace and stability. The Davao region and parts of central Mindanao, as well as some provinces in Luzon and the Visayas, have witnessed a major reduction in conflict and seen modest economic improvements. At the same time, violence continues to claim lives and warp ties between state and society in pockets of land across the archipelago. Long an insurgent stronghold, the southernmost island of Mindanao still has several areas under rebel sway despite the counter-insurgency campaign. In the Visayas, a few hundred guerrillas are trying to hold back the military’s push to dislodge them from their traditional bastions in Negros and Samar, where economic divides remain stark and human rights abuses by both the military and the rebels persist. 

Most of the communities caught up in the violence are rural and poor. Indigenous peoples often bear the brunt of the conflict, which in some regions has been characterised by sudden flare-ups of fighting, abuse of civilians and profound damage to local economies. Manila’s campaign has also featured extensive use of the practice of red-tagging, referring to the authorities’ sometimes over-reaching efforts to prosecute or otherwise harass people or organisations suspected of being associated with the communist movement. 

As it proceeds with its campaign, the government will likely be able to further dent the rebels’ capacity to operate. But bringing an end to the decades-old insurgency through military means will not be easy. Whether the insurgents can survive a further wave of military pressure is uncertain, but for now it is too early to speak of total rebel collapse. The communist movement has demonstrated in the past its capacity to overcome major losses and adapt to adverse circumstances. Moreover, there is a risk of escalation: some rebels may decide to form splinter groups or fuse with criminal outfits, thus perpetuating deadly conflict in new ways. 

Against this backdrop, the announcement of a return to talks, which surprised many, represents an opportunity that should not be missed. To ensure that these talks do not suffer the same fate as the round that collapsed in 2017, Manila and the rebels need to focus from the start on agreeing to concrete steps to reduce vio-lence and build trust. These confidence building measures might include guaran-teed freedom of movement for rebel negotiators and local or temporary ceasefires. Progress in these areas could help establish the foundations for discussions about substantive reforms long demanded by the rebels, including thorny issues relating to rural development. 

Even as it pushes forward with these negotiations, Manila should also recali-brate its inter-agency task force’s efforts to deliver development projects that are better tailored to rural areas. Stronger oversight, a focus on community-driven de-velopment and curbs on the crackdown on suspected communist sympathisers would give the task force much greater credibility. The government should also work through officials, national agencies and the police to halt abuses committed in the name of counter-insurgency, while improving its relations with civil society organisations operating in conflict-affected areas. Both rebels and the armed forc-es, meanwhile, should curtail violations of international humanitarian law for the sake of civilians caught in the crossfire.

Absent a negotiated peace, it is hard to know when this insurgency rooted in the 1960s, and with a demonstrated capacity for longevity, will be over. Military pres-sure and a counter-insurgent offensive have whittled the rebels down to a fraction of their former strength, but so long as they remain active and able to draw on the support of disgruntled rural dwellers, peace talks will offer the best route to bring-ing an end to the conflict.

Manila/Brussels, 19 April 2024

For more than 50 years, the Philippine government has been in conflict with the New People’s Army (NPA), the armed wing of the Communist Party of the Philippines (CPP).[1] Launched in 1969, the communist rebellion is among Asia’s oldest insurgencies, having outlasted seven Filipino presidents.[2] To date, fighting between the NPA and the state has claimed at least 40,000 lives – rebels, soldiers and civilians – the vast majority of them in the conflict’s early phases.[3] Today, the CPP says its armed wing is active in “more or less 70” of the country’s 82 provinces.[4] But the conflict is concentrated in a few areas, particularly northern Mindanao, southern Luzon and parts of the Visayas, a set of smaller islands in the middle of the country, with clashes between the sides accounting for at least 220 fatalities in 2023.[5] Some of the movement’s leaders, including its negotiating panel, live in exile in the Netherlands.

The CPP’s belief in the need for “national democratic revolution” stems from its ideology, Marxism-Leninism-Maoism. With a mission that it associates with anti-imperialism and social justice, the group follows Mao Zedong’s “protracted people’s war” strategy, which calls for armed struggle in the countryside to encircle cities and, eventually, take over the reins of government. It says it will fight until the “root causes” of its rebellion – in a spokesperson’s words, “poverty, longstanding exploitation and oppression” – are no more.[6] These ills, it says, result from imperialism, feudalism and bureaucratic capitalism.

Successive Philippine governments have acknowledged the social problems the insurgency claims to be fighting to resolve, but Manila nevertheless sees the rebellion as an armed enemy bent on seizing power. Fighters attack the army and police and used to run what were in effect parallel governments in remote areas. Despite differences between the wings of the communist movement, the military and police look at it as one interconnected web under the party’s control. 

Bodies allied with the communists, ranging from trade unions to agricultural associations, some of which are grouped under National Democratic Front of the Philippines (NDF) while others remain formally independent, are frequent targets for state crackdowns. Manila’s effort to expose these links – and, in some cases, harass the individuals or groups in question – is known as red-tagging.[1] Manila proscribes the political and military wings of the movement and the NDF on the grounds that they are terrorist organisations.[2]

Nonetheless, Manila has periodically negotiated with the rebels, who are represented in talks by the NDF.[3] After the 1986 ouster of President Ferdinand Marcos, during which the insurgency grew in strength, successive administrations – from the one headed by Corazon Aquino (1986-1992) to the one helmed by her son Benigno Aquino (2010-2016) – held peace talks with the communist group, but with few results.[4] Norway facilitated the intermittent talks from 2001 until President Rodrigo Duterte called them off in 2017.[5] Even so, in November 2023 Manila and the rebels once again pledged to resume talks in the near future.[6]

This report assesses the state of the decades-old conflict and suggests ways to take advantage of the opportunity created by prospective talks, as well as offering other recommendations for conflict mitigation. In addition to fresh research, it draws upon an extensive review of scholarly literature, historical documents, military writings and CPP publications. Research was conducted in Manila and other parts of the country, including almost a dozen conflict-affected provinces, mostly in southern Luzon, Mindanao and the Visayas, between mid-2020 and late 2023. It consists of more than 160 interviews with members of the government and the CPP negotiating panels, rebel cadres and commanders, surrendered rebels, women ex-rebels and activists, military officers, local government officials, civil society representatives, Indigenous and community leaders, church officials, analysts and diplomats.[7] Reflecting gender dynamics in the upper echelons of Philippine institutions, 50 of Crisis Group’s interlocutors – less than half – were women. 

Following the breakdown of peace talks in 2017, with violence escalating, the government tackled the insurgency with a dual approach.[1] First, it set out on a military campaign to “make the NPA irrelevant”, in the words of a senior commander; and secondly, it sought to address the conflict’s “root causes”, particularly perceived injustices and poverty in the country’s remote areas, which it believes account for the insurgency’s resilience.[2] 

In 2018, then-President Duterte began deploying more troops to Bicol, Samar and Negros regions – all hotbeds of insurgency.[3] The military killed front commanders and members of the CPP’s Central Committee, including figures such as Benito and Wilma Tiamzon, Jorge “Ka Oris” Madlos, Antonio Cabanatan, Mariano Adlao, Julios Giron and Menandro “Bok” Villanueva.[4] The loss of strongholds and safe areas, as well as the armed forces’ technological superiority, have posed major challenges to the insurgents’ logistics and communications.[5] Especially under Duterte, but also under his successor Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos, Jr., the military and police have harassed and on occasion directly attacked left-wing organisations and activists accused of being affiliated with the communist movement.[6] In parallel, the government launched development projects in the countryside in a bid to weaken the rebels’ support base.

After his election in July 2016, Duterte, who presented himself as the first “leftist” Philippine president, extended several olive branches to the communist rebels.[1] He offered them positions in his cabinet and freed nineteen top cadres from prison.[2] He also sent a delegation to hold preliminary talks in Norway.^[3] Composed of Jesus Dureza, Silvestre Bello III and Hernani Braganza, whom the rebel negotiators considered “old comrades” – all had been government emissaries under previous administrations – the delegation got a warm welcome.[4] At first, Duterte’s gamble seemed to have paid off.[5] During the first three rounds of talks, held from August 2016 to January 2017, the parties made major progress on issues that had derailed past negotiations, including separate unilateral ceasefires and a joint framework for a comprehensive agreement.[6] 

But despite the breakthroughs, violence and unresolved differences soon threw the talks off track. In late January 2017, with the third round under way, a six-month ceasefire declared by both sides the previous July collapsed as soldiers and rebels clashed in Makilala, Cotabato, leaving a communist fighter dead.[7] Meanwhile, negotiations stalled over issues such as amnesty for rebels, prisoner releases and the communists’ socio-economic demands. While the sides endeavoured to bridge the gaps, through both official and back channels, it was not enough to break the deadlock. 

A series of events deepened the impasse. On 23 May 2017, a major battle erupted between government forces and jihadists in Mindanao’s Marawi City, leading Duterte to declare martial law across the island the same day.[8] Believing they were also being targeted, communist leaders ordered their fighters to attack government forces, both in Mindanao and across the country.[9] Dureza, the negotiator, responded by announcing the government’s withdrawal from talks.[10] Manila then cancelled a round of back-channel conversations planned for July after the rebels attacked the Presidential Security Group, a close protection unit tasked with guarding the president, in Cotabato, and another round slated for November after a rebel ambush took the lives of a police officer and a four-month-old baby in Bukidnon.[11] On 23 November, Duterte signed Proclamation No. 360, formally terminating the talks. Two weeks later, he issued Proclamation No. 374, designating the CPP-NPA as a terrorist organisation. 

Efforts to negotiate persisted even after the talks formally ended. The negotiating panels held four additional rounds of back-channel talks from March to June 2018, during which they signed an Interim Peace Agreement.[1] But when the government negotiators presented the document to Duterte in a June cabinet meeting, the military asked the president not to approve it. He did not.[2]Hopes early in the COVID-19 pandemic that Duterte would rekindle the peace process were dashed, as each side accused the other of violating its unilateral ceasefire.[3]

In hindsight, three causes combined to undermine what was arguably the most promising peace initiative in decades between Manila and the Maoist insurgency. The first was mutual distrust. The good-will between the two negotiating panels, which was based on their personal relationships, did not extend to the institutions they represented, especially on the government side. The armed forces were openly sceptical of negotiations and insisted (though not successfully) on setting ceasefires as a pre-condition for talks.[4] From the rebels’ perspective, the military had a vested interest in wanting the conflict to continue. The second major hurdle was the communists’ adherence to a strategy of “talking while fighting”.[5] Although the rebels demonstrated that they could stick to a long unilateral ceasefire and were willing to enter a coordinated, bilateral truce, they were also quick to resume attacks once the ceasefire looked shaky. Even before the talks collapsed, rebel units engaged in actions that were, if not hostile, at the very least provocative.[6]

Finally, the process would have benefited from the support of an independent third party. Norway’s mandate, which required Oslo to work with both parties to facilitate talks but without seeking to steer the negotiations, held it back from taking a more direct mediation role. Meanwhile, the lack of independent oversight and monitoring of the unilateral ceasefires proved damaging.[7] Without a trusted third party, whether local or international, belief in the peace process withered on both sides.

After peace talks collapsed, Manila grew increasingly confident that it could sap the rebel group’s support and eventually defeat the rebels. To this end, in 2018 the Philippine government introduced a new framework to deal with the insurgency through Executive Order 70, which created the National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict (NTF-ELCAC).[1] The government presents the NTF-ELCAC as a means of coordinating various approaches aimed at ending the insurgency, including fighting the movement’s armed wing, weakening its political fronts and tackling the rebellion’s root causes by delivering better public services in the country’s rural areas.[2] Provided with generous funding, this nexus of military and civilian agencies is the outcome of decades of counter-insurgent experimentation.[3]

Twelve “clusters” of work operate within this holistic model. The Strategic Communication Cluster, for example, works on strengthening the government’s propaganda machine, which many officials believe has been its greatest weakness in the fight with the insurgents to date.[4] The Local Government Cluster brings together the Department of Interior and local governments to build support for counter-insurgency.[5] Through the International Engagement Cluster, the government conducts advocacy campaigns targeted at international organisations, foreign embassies and Filipinos living overseas.[6] 

Most controversial is the Legal Cooperation Cluster, through which the government files criminal complaints against suspected NPA fighters, CPP community organisers and party supporters, as well as against members of organisations that are not outlawed but that the military believes to be fronts for the movement. Using the Anti-Terror Law, which was passed in 2020 and largely upheld by the Supreme Court, the government has piled legal pressure on suspected rebel supporters, with national and local courts issuing indictments on a variety of charges.[7] Such red-tagging of left-wing sympathisers rose sharply during President Duterte’s term, especially following the law’s enactment, with a “chilling impact” on civil society.[8] 

Red-tagging is a broad term. It can colloquially refer to law enforcement efforts to capture insurgents or CPP political cadres or to expose rebels working with legal political groups.[9] Much more frequently, however, it denotes a campaign aimed at people on the fringes of the communist movement. As part of this campaign, the state or government-friendly media will accuse individuals of ties with certain groups, which are “leftist” in the sense that they pursue objectives shared with the communists, and then sometimes link them to the movement itself.[10] Many court cases rely on suspicions of “association” with the rebels.[11] According to civil society figures, these charges are often based on no more than hearsay.[12] 

Red-tagging has done no small amount of harm. Legal powers have allegedly been misused on occasion, including in cases where individuals have accused political opponents or other foes of communist ties in order to bring them into disrepute.[1] Activists and development workers in areas under communist influence feel the threat of red-tagging keenly: knowing that they might face charges of association with or support for rebels makes it hard for them to operate independently from the state.[2] Human rights groups have also reported cases of extrajudicial violence against activists and other civilians who were not members of the communist movement, though they may have been sympathetic to it.[3]

Government officials deny there is any such thing as a red-tagging policy, but they insist that the 2021 law and other provisions give them the prerogative to pursue entities with links to the communist movement to help them fight the insurgency.[4] Even so, they recognise that in some cases local authorities’ “overzealousness” stirs controversy.[5] Some commentators say pressure on left-wing sympathisers has eased slightly under President Marcos, Jr., though others see no meaningful change in the campaign.[6]

Another objective of the task force, through the Local Peace Engagement Cluster, is to encourage dialogue with insurgents in conflict hotspots. But such local peace talks have never really come to fruition. The rebels have not named a negotiating panel for such talks, leaving the military and local governments to engage only with small NPA field units or individual fighters.[7] In addition, well-meaning local officials have felt that the communists’ terrorist designation tied their hands.[8] In any case, most such efforts seemed aimed at persuading rebels to surrender, rather than fostering genuine dialogue.[9]Indeed, seeking surrenders has become a flagship policy for tackling the insurgency. 

An inter-agency body called Task Force Balik-Loob supervises the reintegration of rebels who surrender into civilian life.[10] Target beneficiaries include NPA fighters and sometimes their immediate family members, as well as the movement’s community organisers and supporters.[11] While the government claims that over 20,000 rebels have so far returned to law-abiding lives, the proportion of that number who represent actual combatants as opposed to sympathisers or relatives is unclear.[12] Whether or not they were fighters, most of those deemed former rebels stay in “halfway homes” or in military camps. Provision of housing, however, has been patchy, and those who have surrendered noted that other promises, such as cash or livelihood assistance, were not honoured, either.[13]

The Philippine military’s long experience fighting in the countryside has shaped the government’s strategy for defeating the insurgents. While tactics vary from place to place, the rural campaign aims to win “hearts and minds” while applying attritional military pressure, with institutional and financial support from Manila, particularly the counter-insurgent task force. According to the military, as of May 2023 only 200 villages were still under the communist movement’s influence – a stark contrast to the estimated 1,381 villages at the end of 2008. At the same time, the military is monitoring 300 villages where insurgents are believed to be poised to rebound.[1] At present, the government says, the rebels are operating in eleven “weakened” fronts across the country.[2]

Unlike past campaigns, which consisted exclusively of “search and destroy” missions, the present counter-insurgency effort aims to establish the state’s writ. After combat “clears” a village of rebels, the armed forces often use paramilitaries (known as Citizen Armed Force Geographical Units) or peacekeeping teams made up of villagers to patrol it. “My job as a commander is to focus on the armed component”, explained an officer. “We need to deter them and make sure they will not come back”.[3] The armed forces also try to convince rebel supporters to switch their allegiance to the state, organising them into grassroots associations and undertaking development projects to that end. 

A vital part of this strategy is to ensure that state services reach the village level.[4]To obtain funds from the national Barangay Development Program, which finances projects in conflict-affected communities, villages must first secure the military’s certification that they are “insurgency-free”, after which civilian state agencies are meant to undertake various initiatives, ranging from developing water infrastructure and clinics to building roads that can be used to get farm goods to market.[5] In reality, the military often remains in the driver’s seat.[6] “We know who are the poorest of the poor, and what they need, because we are on the ground”, noted a commander.[7]

In many conflict-hit areas, development projects have had the desired effect. Villagers in such places told Crisis Group said they had “felt the government’s presence for the very first time”.[1] The promise of funds has encouraged village officials to cooperate with the authorities rather than turn back to the rebels, whose influence historically tended to rise whenever residents felt abandoned by the state. Development projects have had the most pronounced success in villages where mayors are committed to them, managing to raise additional funds and seeing the work through to completion.[2]

The process of bringing better public services to the countryside, however, is not free of administrative failings. Selection of eligible villages has been one source of controversy. The island of Palawan received around 700 million pesos ($12 million) though NPA guerrillas there are few.^[3] On Mindoro, government officials promised community leaders development funding, which led the locals to scramble for rebel surrenders only to be told later that their village was not eligible.^[4] Other village officials also complained about funds that never arrived or came in amounts much lower than expected.[5] Furthermore, state spending on the program varies greatly from year to year.[6] The way development projects are chosen has also come in for its share of criticism. Communities do not always have control over project selection or design, as government agencies work with a menu of pre-selected options.^[7] “The problem is, everything is about infrastructure”, noted an observer from Surigao del Norte.^[8] 

Development projects also vary greatly in quality, in large part due to the decisive role played by local power-brokers. If mayors and other local officials, or even military commanders, are half-hearted, the results can be mediocre.[1] Allegations of mismanagement have also plagued a number of projects.[2] “Some communities feel they receive only bread crumbs”, commented a humanitarian worker.^[3] Although oversight from both Manila and regional governments is expected, development projects are occasionally piecemeal, ad hoc and “out of sync” with community needs. Critics complain there is neither monitoring to make sure initiatives are on track nor a detailed, evidence-based study pointing to the most successful schemes.[4]

While development projects may enjoy short-term success, their long-term effects are often uncertain. Building roads may be an essential step in connecting villages to markets, but corridors from the countryside to urban centres, which are crucial to boosting rural livelihoods, are often missing from the plans. Other projects focused on the village level appear to have contributed little to improving overall socio-economic conditions in conflict-affected provinces. In twelve provinces where the rebels are active, poverty rates rose from 2018 to 2021 despite numerous projects being completed.^[5] 

Despite its flaws, the development program illustrates that the military knew it needed to pursue a more holistic approach to ending the communist insurgency.[6] By incorporating local government and recognising the importance of grassroots economic conditions, the approach shows more sensitivity to the causes driving conflict than previous campaigns, which relied to a greater extent on military might. A refrain from officials Crisis Group spoke to was that, the practical problems aside, the development projects represent a new beginning. One military officer with experience in civil-military relations said: “You cannot fix everything. But you can aspire to fix things enough so that the people see and perceive that the government is trying to do its job”.[7]

Overall, the new policies appear to have contributed to the rebels’ decline, especially in central and eastern Mindanao and across Luzon and parts of the Visayas. According to various indicators, the rebels’ military strength has subsided, while projects carried out under the task force’s aegis have curbed recruitment, preventing the insurgents from rebuilding their ranks. Some government officials are so convinced that Manila has defeated the Maoists that they doubt the need to return to peace talks.[8]

But red-tagging, bureaucratic hiccups and ill-informed decision-making cast a shadow over these achievements. While many residents of conflict-affected regions no longer consider the guerrillas to be their defenders, they are struggling to regain faith in the state’s capacity, commitment and willingness to solve their problems. A military officer acknowledged the risks involved in not delivering on the government’s promises or allowing development efforts to flag: “If things do not turn out right, you are inviting disaster”.[9]

While the government has weakened the rebels politically and militarily over re-cent years, the movement remains afloat. Conflict continues in parts of the Philip-pines, while in December 2023 the CPP issued a statement encouraging its mem-bers to redouble the struggle despite the challenges it faces.

A complicated succession at the top appears to have debilitated the rebel cause. The nominal leader, Jose Maria Sison, died in exile in December 2022. With the previous passing of the Tiamzons, the highly influential couple who had run the group in the Philippines for decades, the CPP is facing what is perhaps the most severe leadership crisis in its history.[1] The party says it has filled vacancies on the Central Committee, but the current composition of this commanding organ is unknown.[2] The peace negotiating panel, based in Utrecht, is still operational, with Sison’s widow, Juliette de Lima, appointed as its interim chairperson. But it has no control of political and military operations in the Philippines.[3] Whether the movement has in its ranks a new generation of commanders and cadres who could replace the old guard is for now unclear.[4] Some observers speculate that, with its established heads gone, the rebels could face fragmentation.[5] That said, the number of coordinated attacks in 2023 and continuous messaging from the party’s media outlet suggest that it still has a degree of hierarchy.[6] 

The rebels’ military and political wings both appear to be at a low ebb. State officials estimate that the NPA has only 1,500 full-time combatants left.[1]Whether these figures are to be trusted or not, there seems to be little doubt that the insurgency is smaller than ever.[2]Besides its diminished fighting corps, the movement has found it hard to maintain its broader support structure. The guerrillas have long depended for survival on the sympathy of a majority, or at least a substantial minority, of residents in the rural areas where they operate, while also counting on a phalanx of urban dwellers.[3] The counter-insurgency campaign and the rollout of development projects have weakened the movement, with many NPA units trying to evade arrest and political work becoming increasingly arduous.[4]

Generating funds at the local level has also become more difficult. In the countryside, rebels traditionally rely on what they call “revolutionary taxation” (ie, extortion) – of businesses and sometimes individuals – to sustain the movement, but revenue has shrunk in recent years as the insurgents have lost territory and seen the arrest of financial operatives.[5]

While the movement is still trying to recruit cadres and combatants, its survival will depend on resisting the army’s pressure while rebuilding its own political and military strength.[6] The CPP appears mindful of these challenges, saying it considers the recent loss of its leaders an “inspiration” to continue the revolution.[7] In two messages published in December 2022 and March 2023, it outlined how it intends to galvanise the movement, emphasising that it will reinvigorate political and ideological education for cadres and combatants.[8] It also said it had identified tactical flaws in its military operations that contributed to its weaknesses on the battlefield, learning from the mistakes.[9] Finally, it said it would preserve the primacy of Maoist military strategy but would work to introduce innovations, such as the formation of special tactical teams, the creation of local encampments to oversee guerrilla expansion and an emphasis on more mobile techniques of warfare. The CPP is also staying active online, putting out regular communications targeting internet-savvy, younger and minority audiences.[10]

The movement’s efforts to rejuvenate itself culminated in December 2023, when it announced what it called the Third Rectification Movement.[11] Party representatives insisted that the movement has been “gaining ground”.[12] Government officials expressed concern about the announcement’s timing, just weeks after the plan to return to peace talks had been unveiled.[13] The rebels reiterated their commitment to rectification and revolutionary struggle in another statement the following March.[14]

A guerrilla bastion since the late 1970s, Mindanao was the proving ground for the government’s approach of combining military pressure and development projects following the 2017 collapse of peace talks. Most of the NPA’s recruits in Mindanao come from the Lumad, local Indigenous communities often considered the part of the population most neglected by Manila, and whose concerns have shaped the insurgency’s overall identity.[1] 

Counter-insurgency operations first intensified in the Davao region, particularly around the NPA’s former strongholds in Davao de Oro and Davao del Norte, weakening the insurgency in both areas.[2] In villages in the hinterlands of Davao City, Duterte’s hometown, activists and the city government developed an initiative known as Peace 911. Launched by Duterte’s daughter Sara, who had replaced her father as mayor, the program aimed to restore the state’s legitimacy in former insurgent bastions, including the notorious Paquibato district.[3] Schemes included creating satellite government offices, consulting with residents about development projects and establishing a hotline for reporting security concerns. Together with the provision of employment opportunities for fighters who surrendered, the program helped stem the rebellion in Davao City’s outskirts.[4]

The initiative was extended to adjacent areas, with some success. Towns such as Magpet, Antipas and Arakan in Cotabato province, where rebels had been highly active in the past, have remained peaceful in recent years. People there say they appreciate the better roads and services the state has provided since 2018.[5] Sarangani, another small province where several towns have been known as hotbeds of insurgency for decades, combined national funds with its own resources to improve public services, including by hiring nurses to work in remote areas and building roads to help farmers get their produce to market.[6]

Finishing off the insurgency is proving more elusive in eastern and northern Mindanao. Under military pressure since 2018, guerrillas have moved westward into forested hills and are still trying to recruit among Muslim Moros and the Indigenous.[1]

Caraga region in north-eastern Mindanao, comprising the provinces of Agusan del Sur and del Norte, Surigao del Sur and del Norte, is also proving difficult to pacify.[2] Here, the insurgency overlaps with disputes over exploitation of natural resources, particularly logging and mining. Indigenous peoples have a troubled relationship with the state, which they resent for its perceived neglect, feeding into the conflict.[3] Local officials say the military is making headway in winning over public opinion, and that business and tourism are growing, especially in the cities.^[4] But traces of conflict are ubiquitous.[5] Army patrols in villages are common, and clashes still take place: during a June 2023 skirmish on the outskirts of one city, Butuan, the military had to resort to airstrikes to fend off the guerrillas.[6] Grievances related to Indigenous rights, resource extraction and land ownership continue to simmer and could spur further conflict unless they are carefully handled. Caraga also borders the vast province of Bukidnon, which the rebels use to hide and move around.[7]

Over the last two years, the centre of gravity of the government’s campaign has shifted from Mindanao to the Visayas, a group of islands in the middle of the country, now considered “the last bastion” of the insurgency.[1] The government believes that “a few hundred guerrillas” remain scattered across several “weakened” fronts, particularly in the eastern (Samar and Leyte) and western Visayas (Negros).[2] 

Negros, comprising the two provinces of Negros Occidental and Negros Oriental, is perhaps the most affected island. The dynamics in each province are slightly different: Negros Oriental, where towns are poorer, has only a few hotspots of violence, which, while severe, is not solely rooted in the insurgency.[3] Negros Occidental, on the other hand, has experienced a high level of conflict since 2017, recording the greatest number of clashes per province in the Philippines in the last two years. The main reason is the sugar industry, which has been the island’s economic lifeline for centuries, but also perpetuates stark economic divides.[4] The local hacienda system leads to abuses of farmers and sugar workers, which are fodder for the NPA’s media machine.[5] While sugarcane plantation owners have begun treating employees better in some respects, land grabs, poor wages and violence persist.[6] According to a local mayor, “people turn to insurgency because they are brainwashed [by the rebels]. But then there is clearly the injustice”.[7]

The rebels are nevertheless on the back foot, having suffered heavy losses for years, including among their local leaders.[1] Moving between the plains and mountain hideouts, the rebels benefit from logistical support in urban centres. But the challenges they face are mounting. Differences among cadres regarding the movement’s political and military direction have adversely affected operations. The rebels have also alienated local people with their behaviour, with some of them prizing economic returns and resembling hired goons. Much as the NPA enjoys popular backing in some places, rebel executions of “class enemies”, such as sugar planters, businesspeople and military informers, push others away, including members of the middle class.[2] Some of the more gung-ho actions are likely taken by younger, overzealous commanders who lack the older generation’s finesse in guerrilla warfare.[3]

With the military pushing hard to dismantle the remaining NPA units since early 2023, parts of Negros are trapped in conflict, with civilians intimidated by both soldiers and rebels.[4] The hillside villages around Himamaylan and Kabankalan, in particular, are beset with clashes and displacement. Some military commanders are impatient with mayors whom they perceive as insufficiently supportive of efforts to tackle the insurgents.[5] Local officials, in turn, are concerned by the intensity of the counter-insurgency campaign.[6] Rebels burnish their appeal by pointing to perceived military overreach and portraying government projects as largely useless in the face of creeping impoverishment.[7] Though the army is on the offensive, rebels occasionally hit back.[8] “The war here is far from over”, a local told Crisis Group.[9]

The military is also having trouble ending the insurgency in Samar. Scores of rebel fighters have been killed over the decades, but the government has never managed to dislodge them fully.[10] Many of the cadres released in 2016 – including the Tiamzons – made for the province, which to them was familiar territory.[11] A guerrilla-held zone on the island even hosted the CPP’s Second Party Congress in 2016.[12] 

Even in Samar, however, the government has achieved gains over recent years. The 8th Infantry Division has relied on intelligence work, pursuing the Tiamzons, for instance, as well as carefully calibrated use of force.[13]In response, in August 2022, the 200-300 Samar-based guerrillas divided up their large formations into more than a dozen smaller units to avoid detection.[14] Yet the armed forces continued to apply pressure. On 6 January, government forces killed a key rebel leader in Borongan town in Eastern Samar.[15] The last group of hardened insurgents, numbering over 100, is holed up in the hinterlands between Northern Samar and its adjacent provinces.[16] The rebels’ support networks are also weakened.[17]

As in Negros, the insurgents in Samar are struggling. But some elements of Manila’s approach may play in their favour, starting with the slow delivery on promises such as socio-economic assistance to surrendered combatants.[18] Frustration could lead disillusioned ex-fighters to return to the guerrillas’ ranks and dissuade others from demobilising. Reports even suggest that some fighters have buried their weapons in caches and are planning to go back to war once conditions are more favourable.[19]

Luzon, the Philippines’ largest island, is less affected than others by the conflict with the communists. As it is home to the national capital, it enjoys better economic conditions than other parts of the country. Security operations over the last fifteen years have also weakened the movement’s political and military base. Still, pockets of violence persist, for example in the Southern Tagalog region, the site of a police and military crackdown during the COVID-19 pandemic that included alleged human rights abuses.[1] In the north of Luzon, sustained military operations forced rebel formations to move back to the mountains known as the Cordillera or to adjacent areas such as Cagayan and Isabela provinces.[2] Government forces also aim to prevent a guerrilla resurgence on the eastern side of the Sierra Madre mountain range in Central Luzon.[3]

The southern portion of the island, Bicol region and the adjacent Quezon province, are traditional communist strongholds.[4] At present, even some of the movement’s supporters admit that it has “been weakened”.[5] But “lightning attacks”, rebel strikes from out of nowhere to grab firearms and score propaganda points, were still taking place in early 2023.[6] There have also been reports of extortion of business owners and, in March 2023, a clash near a school in Masbate made national headlines.[7] Aiming to boost development, the national government had allocated a chunk of counter-insurgent funds to Bicol two months earlier.[8] In the first four months of 2024, fourteen clashes in Bicol, Quezon and Batangas, even if mostly initiated by government forces, showed the insurgency’s staying power.[9]

Recent military advances have raised the prospect of the rebels’ definitive defeat. Although the NPA has recovered from setbacks in the past, most recently in the 1990s, many observers agree that this time a revival is unlikely. Even so, the conflict is not over. In 2022, clashes related to the insurgency killed over 250 people; the next year, the death toll stood at over 220, with incidents occurring in 42 of the 82 Philippine provinces.[1] In 2024 to date, the conflict has killed 45 people, wounded seventeen and displaced at least 550 families.[2]At the same time, the rural conflict could have new manifestations. The rebel movement could splinter, either on ideological grounds (not uncommon in communist insurgencies) or due to local schisms.[3]Alternatively, the rebels might turn to crime, according to those familiar with them, or seek work as violent enforcers for political figures.[4] Another scenario could entail a smaller but more lethal communist movement under new leadership.[5]

Victory for the Philippine government appears closer than in the past but not yet clearly within reach. Defeat of the rebels and lasting peace in the countryside are likely to prove elusive unless more is done to address the roots of conflict. With this reality in mind, many analysts expressed guarded optimism following the surprise announcement that talks between Manila and the rebels would resume. But support for peace negotiations and an eventual agreement aiming to address deep-seated grievances is far from unanimous, with parts of the military and Vice President Sara Duterte voicing outright opposition immediately after the announcement in late November.[1] The military has also kept up the tempo of its operations against the insurgents in the first quarter of 2024. Meanwhile, Marcos, Jr. offered amnesty to those rebels who want to surrender.[2] The National Security Council reiterated the overture, calling on rebels to “return to the fold of the law”.[3]

Pursuing dialogue with the rebels should serve the Marcos, Jr. administration’s interests, allowing it to reaffirm its readiness to put a full stop to one of Asia’s longest-running communist insurgencies.[1] It could also enable the government to achieve the strategic goal of shifting attention from internal security to external defence.[2] As Manila’s priorities move toward modernising its military, especially the navy and air force, counter-insurgency increasingly looks like a distraction.[3] 

With a first official meeting between the sides expected in the near future, a good-faith peace process that concludes in a negotiated settlement appears within striking distance. But if the conversations are to be fruitful, compromise on what to expect from them will be of paramount importance. Despite a commitment to talks, the government and rebels harbour starkly different expectations of what they might entail. The NDF is sticking to its traditional expansive set of demands. It refuses what it calls “surrender talks”.[4] Having enhanced its bargaining power with its counter-insurgent campaign, Manila, on the other hand, is likely to push for a much more restricted agenda.[5] Even so, the possible involvement of senior military figures – an important advance from the last, failed round of negotiations – signals that the government views these talks as a major opportunity to end the conflict.[6]

To bridge their differences, the government and rebels should aim to build on the Oslo Joint Statement and Communiqué of 23 November 2023, which called for a peaceful end to the conflict. Both should also prepare a list of principles to guide the agenda for negotiations.[1] These principles could include mutual commitment to rural development and to participation by rebel cadres in formal political life.[2] In addition, community leaders across the archipelago told Crisis Group that the talks should tackle the precarious living conditions of Indigenous people trapped in the conflict.[3] The reference to “environmental issues” in the Oslo statement also gives the sides an opportunity to discuss remedies for areas affected by conflict and natural disasters, for example parts of the Visayas and Mindanao.[4]

Compromises between the sides will be difficult, but prospects may improve if the parties can take concrete steps to engender trust. As a confidence-building measure, Manila should consider releasing the oldest and sickest NDF members on humanitarian grounds, including those who might become members of the negotiating panel.[5] Another feasible step would be to guarantee freedom of movement for NDF negotiators, which successive governments have been reluctant to do. The rebels could reciprocate by agreeing to local, temporary cessations of hostilities, with clear rules as to which acts are prohibited.[6] On this basis, the sides could look to establish a mechanism for monitoring and verification of human rights and compliance with international humanitarian law to stay in effect as long as the conflict continues.[7]

The complexity of the issues and difficulties of building confidence between the sides suggest that talks should not be rushed, even if the process moves more slowly than Manila would like. The parties should convene internal consultations to build constituencies for peace. Manila has taken a step in this direction, with the counter-insurgency task force calling the Oslo “exploratory talks” a “welcome development”.[8] On the rebel side, it will be particularly important to strengthen communication among party leaders, the negotiating panel and field commanders in order to ensure a cohesive approach to talks and compliance with any agreement.[9] Views differ within the party, with some seeing peace talks as a genuine objective and others regarding them as an instrumentalist tactic. Its leaders need to bridge the gap and tell cadres and the government that they have done so.[10]

Both parties should also seek to incorporate a wide variety of voices in the negotiations. The government and NDF should have women negotiators and Indigenous representatives on their respective panels and in any working group that may be created, helping ensure that talks reflect the views of the grassroots.[11] In addition, once the talks start, government negotiators should in parallel conduct “town hall” meetings in conflict-affected areas to hear the most pressing concerns of local citizens. 

The government’s holistic counter-insurgency approach has weakened the rebels, but with peace talks on the horizon, authorities could improve it. Above all, Manila should tone down rhetoric stigmatising individuals and communities, putting an end to red-tagging that, in effect, criminalises political dissent. In addition, Manila should step up efforts to evaluate the counter-insurgent task force’s operations and make recommendations regarding its mandate and future funding.[1] Stronger civilian oversight of the task force, drawing on the expertise of representatives from national government agencies, Congress, civil society and academia, could help it become more community-oriented and transparent, while placing more women in top management positions would make it more representative.[2] Over time, and so long as the conflict abates, Manila should strengthen the agency’s civilian identity and continue its focus on spurring development in conflict-stricken areas.[3]

National and local authorities should also aim to fine-tune the inter-agency approach to make it more responsive to community needs. While a complete revamp of the pre-set list of development projects seems unlikely, ensuring that local civil society has a greater say in the initiatives that are proposed, and oversight while they are being implemented, is feasible. Manila could also do more to supervise local officials who oversee implementation.[4] More concerted efforts could also be made to address the reasons for project delays and other problems as well as to plan responses to possible funding gaps.[5] In municipalities or clusters of towns where service delivery has been lagging, officials could encourage local governments to establish “satellite offices” in remote areas that could employ health and administrative personnel.[6] Together with civil society, these municipalities should also prepare development plans that respond to the specific needs of women and ethno-linguistic minorities, for example in the Caraga region.[7]

Lastly, Manila needs to improve its treatment of rebels who have surrendered. Even though the program for surrenders is in place, funding has fallen short. The government should assess what additional resources are required to meet the needs of former rebels, strengthen program oversight and come up with a plan for housing ex-combatants, some of whom still live in military camps. 

Protecting communities that bear the brunt of the conflict and strengthening the rule of law in conflict-affected areas remain crucial to lasting peace. Grievances regarding security force operations and the actions of local officials continue to fuel resentment of the state that rebels regularly exploit.

The military can help mitigate these resentments through stronger safeguards relating to the use of force, particularly with respect to protecting civilians. It should stop using a heavy hand with communities it suspects of being sympathetic to the insurgency, reducing coercive interactions with civilians.[1] The armed forces should also more closely monitor the operations of paramilitaries such as the Citizen Armed Force Geographical Units and punish any transgressions.[2] Finally, they should allow safe, unimpeded passage of humanitarian assistance to conflict-affected villages, regardless of whether these are near rebel-influenced areas. Where the military is hesitant to do so out of concern the relief could benefit the insurgents, it should coordinate with civil society groups and local governments to create humanitarian corridors so that aid reaches the intended recipients.[3] Similarly, the armed forces should ensure that farmers in conflict-affected areas can harvest their crops without harassment.[4]

To win local legitimacy, the Philippine state also needs to strengthen the rule of law and curb injustices that generate disaffection in areas where the insurgency is strongest. Training more police and deploying more women officers to provide safety and order is particularly important if the state wishes to consolidate its authority in parts of the countryside where rebels are in retreat or have already retreated, for example in Davao.[1] The police should also strengthen its mechanisms to punish abuses by officers. At the same time, authorities should look to give more resources to local courts, filling vacant judicial positions and improving case management so that conflict-affected communities can get better access to the justice system. 

For legal and humanitarian reasons – and to create a climate of good-will ahead of negotiations – the rebels should also protect non-combatants, including by avoiding setting up encampments near sites such as schools and steering clear of targeting civilians.[2] They should also honour their pledge not to recruit minors.[3]

Land ownership is a root cause of the insurgency, and the notion of “agrarian revolution” remains a staple of CPP ideology.[1] In conflict-affected regions such as Bicol, Negros and Samar, agriculture is the economic lifeline for hundreds of thousands of Filipinos, yet farmers live in poverty and bear the brunt of the war. About 22.4 per cent of the population, or more than one fifth of the country, lives in or near poverty, but some provinces where insurgents operate face a rate one and a half times as high.[2] Considering that farming communities provide a steady stream of recruits for the rebels, improving livelihoods in the countryside should be at the heart of efforts to build peace.[3] 

First, the Philippine government should use the village development program to increase the number of agricultural projects it funds in conflict-affected areas rather than focusing almost exclusively on infrastructure development. These initiatives should go beyond mere distribution of livestock and fertilisers.[4] Projects geared toward providing better equipment such as storage facilities or machinery could boost the income and productivity of farmers, as could better access to training.[5] Local governments, with support from the national government’s Departments of Agriculture and Agrarian Reform, should support these initiatives with know-how and capital, while calling on agrarian experts from civil society and academia for advice, for example on how best to diversify crops.[6]

Secondly, national authorities should press ahead with land reform, particularly if agreement on this issue is reached in peace talks with the rebels.[7] Even though distributing land more fairly has been official policy in the Philippines since 1988, the results have often not met expectations.[8] The government should take steps that would galvanise reform but do not require, in the words of a former official, “reinventing the wheel”.[9] Officials should seek to identify public land in or near conflict-affected areas and develop plans to redistribute these plots to landless farmers, as well as bolster schemes to enhance land productivity.[10] They should also assess the challenges facing previous reform efforts in Negros, Samar and Northern Mindanao so as to avoid repeating past mistakes in conflict-affected areas.[11] Lastly, they should establish specific programs of support for women farmers, for example by improving credit services, enhancing technical training and strengthening women’s roles in land governance. 

Even if levels of violence fall, there is and will continue to be a need for peacebuilding aimed at bridging differences in conflict-affected areas and promoting more inclusive local authorities. Beyond government agencies, civil society organisations are among the best placed to do this job, as they have earned credibility from years working on humanitarian, environmental and rehabilitation issues.[1] 

Supporting these groups could be a way for donors to contribute to peace and stability.[2] While red-tagging still occurs, the political conditions for this sort of work have slightly improved since the Duterte presidency ended.[3] Some donors and international organisations are interested in helping with peacebuilding in principle but concerned about running afoul of the government.[4] An indirect approach could offer a way forward: funding small pilot projects that focus on climate change adaptation and disaster relief – issues of concern to Manila – while not losing sight of peacebuilding goals.[5] This course of action would be cost-effective and broadly in line with the Marcos, Jr. government’s thinking.[6]

The Maoist insurgency in the Philippines is at its lowest ebb in decades. But it has not been vanquished, and the armed conflict remains both a challenge for the state and a threat to public safety in pockets across the country. The government’s military successes in the last few years have lent it confidence in its capacity to end the rebellion once and for all. But Manila may be underestimating the rebels’ resilience; moreover, the political, social and economic grievances that have driven the rebel cause over decades could stoke last-ditch resistance among parts of the guerrilla force or new manifestations of violence. 

Manila’s attempts to transform the conditions that have fuelled the communist rebellion are at the heart of its quest to close this painful chapter in the country’s history. But while it is on the right track, refinements in its development policies are required to win over certain communities, and its sometimes heavy-handed approach continues to sow unnecessary distress. With peace talks slated to resume soon, the government should seize the opportunity to work patiently toward a definitive end to the conflict, beginning with modest confidence-building steps. So long as the trajectory and outcome of talks are uncertain, Manila should also strive to balance its counter-insurgent efforts with a peacebuilding approach that stresses adherence to the rule of law and inclusive development.

The Philippine state has done much to blunt the guerrilla movement and deplete its ranks. Now is the time to reach further in its bid to tackle the political, social and economic causes that fuel the insurgency, so that this decades-old conflict can finally draw to a conclusion.

Manila/Brussels, 19 April 2024 

The history of the communist insurgency in the Philippines can be divided into different periods. These are: 1) the movement’s origins (1968-1972); 2) its expansion and growth during the Marcos dictatorship (1972-1986); 3) a time of retrenchment (1986-1996); 4) on-and-off resurgence (1996-2016); and 5) an escalation of conflict followed by decline (2016 to the present). This appendix covers the first four. 

Origins and Early Stages (1968-1972)

Antecedents of social revolt appeared in the Philippines in the colonial era, as well as in the 1940s and 1950s. The most prominent was the Huk uprising. The Hukbong Bayan Laban sa Hapon (or Hukbalahap or the Huks) was an anti-Japanese guerrilla movement during World War II. In 1946, the Huks began fighting the Philippine government, to resist political repression and landlordism but also to advance an ideological agenda.[1] The Huks had close ties with the Partido Komunista ng Pilipinas, the Philippine Communist Party, but also operated on their own.[2] By 1954, the administration of President Ramon Magsaysay had defeated the movement through combined military, police and civic action.[3] The governments that followed, however, were unable to carry out reforms that might have prevented its resurgence. More than a decade later, in 1968, the CPP emerged during a period of social upheaval and prolonged economic stagnation. It drew its members from both the left-wing intelligentsia, including students, and veterans of the old party who were dissatisfied with their leaders. 

In 1969, the party formed an armed wing, the NPA.[4] The nucleus of the new guerrillas teamed up with Huk remnants under Bernabe “Kumander Dante” Buscayno in central Luzon and began expanding.[5] CPP founder Jose Maria Sison envisaged the province of Isabela and the adjacent mountain ranges in northern Luzon, where the CPP Central Committee moved in 1970, as a launchpad for offensives.[6]

Martial Law and the Marcos Years (1972-1986)

President Ferdinand Marcos, Sr.’s imposition of martial law on 23 September 1972, on the grounds of perceived unrest in Manila and outside, enabled the movement to expand and challenge state power.[7] In the early 1970s, the NPA had around 1,000 to 2,000 fighters, but by the end of Marcos’s rule that number had grown to an estimated 20,000 or more, as the military focused on dealing with Mindanao’s Moro secessionist groups.[8] The communist rebels also benefitted from the repression of the Marcos years. Massacres, corruption and everyday violence drove more people to fight the dictator and his cronies. The rebels also took advantage of the Philippine archipelago’s geographical spread.[9] Their major theatres were Luzon, the Visayas and Mindanao.[10] 

Mindanao in particular proved to be a perfect environment for unrest. The islanders harboured a variety of grievances, such as landlessness, resource exploitation, inequality and violence against Indigenous minorities, that found echoes in the insurgency’s proclaimed agenda.[11] In the late 1970s and early 1980s, the regions of Davao and Zamboanga, followed by Agusan, Surigao and Misamis, all became staging grounds for guerrilla offensives.

The rebels reached their political-military peak in the mid-1980s, when they not only controlled territory and operated hit squads in cities across the country, but also attacked military bases.[12] Guerrilla units merged into bigger formations, often engaging the armed forces in conventional battles.[13] Starting in the early 1980s, cities experienced strikes and uprisings, with political coalitions engaging in mass mobilisation.[14] Many cadres experimented with new political and military strategies.[15] By the time a popular uprising forced Marcos out of office, the rebels were active in almost every Philippine province. 

The Corazon Aquino Years (1986-1992)

The movement then fell into decline, due to four factors. First, it decided to boycott the 1986 polls. Marcos had called these snap elections before the uprising, but the rebel leadership was convinced the polls would not be fair even with him gone.[16] It proved to be a major mistake, since the CPP was the dominant anti-Marcos political force.[17] Secondly, purges harmed the structure of party and its armed wing, alienating many cadres.[18] The number of fighters in Mindanao, for example, fell by some 50 per cent.[19] Thirdly, military operations intensified as the armed forces tried to exploit the movement’s weaknesses after a temporary ceasefire in 1986 fell apart.[20]

But perhaps most important was a fourth factor: a split in the movement over policy disagreements. Debates on strategy and the 1986 election boycott decision culminated in Sison’s publication of a strategic document to “reaffirm” ideological orthodoxy, denounce ideological adventurism and push for “rectification” – namely, a return to classical Maoist doctrine of protracted people’s war.[21] The document triggered strong reactions from party members and grassroots supporters, ranging from disbelief to firm opposition, and reflecting frustration with Sison’s dogmatism.[22] A substantial part of the movement split off.[23] Estimates suggest that it lost 40 per cent of its combatants, 40 per cent of its territory, 15 per cent of party members and 60 per cent of its popular support.[24] The emergence of various communist splinter groups, most of which abandoned the armed struggle, fractured the Philippine left.[25]

The Fidel Ramos and Joseph Estrada Presidencies (1992-2001) 

The armed conflict continued in the 1990s, but with varying intensity. The Ramos presidency pressed ahead with Aquino’s military campaign, taking advantage of the CPP’s disarray. Many cadres and activists, past and present, regard this period as the rebels’ low point.[26] Beyond the party’s erosion, many in the growing Philippine middle class had lost faith in the need for violent revolution to bring about social change.[27]

The Ramos administration also achieved the most progress in terms of peace talks, leading to four agreements but falling short of a comprehensive settlement.[28] Late in the decade, however, the rebels managed to reorganise some of their forces, at a time when the military once again had its hands full with the Moro rebellion.[29] Moreover, under the leadership of the Tiamzons and other figures, veteran cadres rebuilt networks to capitalise on weak state service delivery in rural areas, as well as continuous military abuses against civilians. The rebels grew in number once more, with up to 9,500 fighters in 1999.[30] The next administration under Joseph Estrada (1998-2001) did not engage in serious talks and clashes continued.

The Gloria Macapagal Arroyo Years (2001-2010)

The conflict once again intensified during the presidency of Gloria Macapagal Arroyo.[31] At first, her administration was predisposed to negotiations.[32] But it quickly grew alarmed at the strong electoral performance of Bayan Muna, a political party close to the militant left, and rebellion in the countryside resurged. During this time, the military considered the communist rebels the biggest threat in the country, over and above the Moro armed groups.[33] In 2004, the NDF withdrew from the negotiating table after Macapagal-Arroyo designated the NPA as a terrorist group. The subsequent military campaign, called Oplan Bantay Laya, was once again heavy-handed.[34] In Davao’s district of Paquibato, for example, the armed forces allegedly committed several abuses.[35] A military campaign in Central Luzon targeted not only rebels but also activists and the movement’s political backbone. This crackdown once again drove hundreds of people to the armed movement, even if military operations weakened some party committees and rebel fronts. 

The Benigno Aquino Years (2010-2016)

Peace talks under Arroyo’s successor Benigno Aquino again proved unsuccessful. The administration launched a new military campaign, the Oplan Bayanihan, and designed the PAMANA program, a countrywide effort to roll out development projects in communist-influenced villages.[36] But the rebellion continued. The early Aquino years, in fact, saw a notable increase in NPA activity in Caraga and Davao regions in Mindanao.[37] In these resource-rich areas, the movement’s membership grew by up to 20 per cent. Clashes occurred almost everywhere in the country.[38] While some in Aquino’s negotiating team demonstrated flexibility, they were not able to agree on substantive issues with the communist movement. The rebels were also cautious about making concessions. In the end, despite Aquino’s landmark peace agreement with the Moro rebels in 2012 and 2014, neither Manila nor the communists had the political will to achieve a breakthrough.