It was heartbreaking news: Two Ateneo de Manila University basketball players drowned. It did not, at that moment, matter to me whether the incident was purely accidental or whether it could have been preventable. My immediate concern, as an alum of the Ateneo de Manila University and an avid fan of the Blue Eagles, was the human cost of the tragedy.

What mattered most to me upon hearing the tragic news was not the public discourse that immediately followed, but the athletes’ families – most especially their parents, their siblings, their relatives, and all those individuals who knew them personally. The emotional devastation they must have initially experienced – and continue to experience – was something only those personally closest to the deceased could feel, prompting the most human question: What exactly happened?

Unlike many who quickly sought someone to blame, my instinct was not to assign fault. That process belongs to a proper investigation, where facts and not emotions should guide conclusions. My initial reaction was one of profound shock, disbelief, and sadness that two young men, full of promise and potential, were suddenly gone.

Another shocker for me was the way the public in general, and many Ateneo alumni and alumnae in particular, responded with harsh criticism, intense anger, and even a desire for retribution, as though the Ateneo was absolutely responsible for the deaths of the two players, without the benefit of a full investigation. It was at best a rash to judgment, one that quickly solidified into a narrative suggesting that Ateneo should have foreseen and prevented the tragedy, as if life is 20/20. I wish we, humans, knew the outcome of any decisions or risks we take before making them.

As a result, Ateneo lost the media war long before any formal inquiry could establish the facts. I read on Facebook that members of the Ateneo faculty signed a manifesto criticizing the administration for issuing “nameless, faceless, and sterile social media posts.” Social media are replete with posts criticizing the administration for placing a gag order on the coaches and players, accusing the school of prioritizing damage control over transparency.

Another criticism raised was the administration’s alleged failure to inform the grieving family promptly and sensitively about what had happened, leaving them to rely on media reports rather than receiving a clear and compassionate account directly from Ateneo.

The recent onslaught of public criticism directed at Ateneo may create undue pressure on the university to withdraw its support for the coaching staff in an attempt to appease its detractors. Such a course of action would be misguided. One does not abandon one’s colleagues in moments of crisis. They may be reprimanded or subjected to appropriate disciplinary measures, but they should not be left without institutional support. For many years, they have brought honor to Ateneo. To forsake them now, at a time of difficulty, would run counter to the Filipino value of standing by one’s friends in time of crisis. This is a profound lesson I have learned from the parable of the Prodigal Son – God’s mercy is always greater than our mistakes.

I hope I did not give the impression that Ateneo should simply adhere to its winning tradition or refrain from implementing organizational changes in its basketball program, particularly if such reforms are recommended because of the ongoing investigation.

I understand why the public and the alumni are angry. You have two young men, Rene Baterbonia and Divine Alili, who entered a prestigious university with the hope and promise of developing their talents as basketball players gone too soon. Their aspirations extended far beyond the court. They dreamed that one day, their skill would translate into meaningful financial opportunities that could uplift their families out of poverty. That dream has now been extinguished. Their families have lost not only their beloved sons, but also the future they had worked toward together.

During the past five years, the nation has witnessed the deaths of several young student-activists. The anguish felt by their parents, when they heard of their deaths, must have mirrored the same excruciating pain now being experienced by the families of Rene and Divine, a sorrow no parent should ever endure.

Student-activists Alyssa Alano, Maureen Kiel Santuyo, Chad Booc Jurain Ngujo II from the University of the Philippines, Elgene Mungcal from Polytechnic University of the Philippines, and Ma. Elena Pampoza from UP-Los Baños had also dreams no different from those of Rene and Divine. They, too, longed for a better life for their families. Their lives were also cut short, though not by drowning, but by the violence of military operations.

Yet the same journalists, social-media voices and Ateneo alumni and alumnae who vigorously continue to sustain public awareness of Rene and Divine’s story offered no comparable response when the students-activists’ families needed it. Why were these young student-activists left without the same collective grief, the same demand for accountability and justice?

I do not understand why the public and the same Ateneo alumni and alumnae who are so forcefully vocal and critical about the deaths of the two Ateneo basketball players, did not express the same outrage when similar tragedies befell activist-students who lost their lives under military fire. The disparity in moral urgency is striking, and it raises tough questions about whose suffering we choose to acknowledge and whose we allow to fade into silence.

Since speaking about activists’ killings carries risks, real or perceived, I ask my fellow Ateneo alumni and alumnae if they are worried about being misunderstood, red-tagged, or drawn into political debates they feel unprepared to navigate. Or is it because activists’ killings receive less media sustained attention compared to basketball that alumni and alumnae tend to follow what is most visible, income-generating and popular? Their silence in many of these cases is deafening.

Many alumni and alumnae have criticized the Jesuits for what they perceive as their failure to embody the Ignatian principles of Magis, Men for Others, Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam (AMDG) and Cura Personalis in their response to the deaths of the two student-athletes Yet, I cannot help but ask these same alumni and alumnae: why are these principles not applied with equal conviction when student-activists (and others like journalists, workers, peasants, etc.) are killed, often under violent and deeply troubling circumstances? Why does moral urgency seem to diminish when the victims are social activists rather than athletes? Is it because these activists are not Ateneans or is there a deeper double standard at work?

The disparity invites serious reflection on how selectively Ateneo alumni and alumnae invoke these Ignatian principles that they learned in the classrooms – or did not learn – and whether they are willing to extend their demands beyond the boundaries of institutional identity to the broader human community they are always meant to serve.

The header photo montage features the St. Ignatius statue in Ateneo de Naga University superimposed over ocean swells breaking against a coastline.

About the author

GREG S. CASTILLA, one of the co-founders of Dateline Ibalon, is a graduate of Ateneo de Manila University. He was a recipient of the U.S. Department of Education Bilingual Fellowship Program at the University of Washington, where he earned a Ph.D. in multicultural education. He taught multicultural studies in several colleges and universities in Seattle as an adjunct faculty and authored eight books, the last of which is Magis: Things That Matter Most in Life (2021). He is a doting grandfather to his five grandchildren, and thanks his wife and children for what he has become.