Who Decides Who Is a Spy?

The debate surrounding political labeling in the Philippines has long centered on one term: red-tagging. Activists, journalists, lawyers, church workers, and human rights organizations have consistently argued that publicly branding individuals or organizations as communist fronts without sufficient evidence is reckless because such accusations can damage reputations, expose people to harassment, and, in some cases, place lives at risk.

Those arguments deserve serious consideration. They are rooted in the principle that allegations carrying serious consequences must be supported by credible evidence.

That same principle, however, cannot be applied selectively.

A social media post circulated after the State of the Nation Address (SONA) mobilization in Davao City recently identified several individuals as “intelligence units” allegedly monitoring the protest. The post included photographs of the individuals and urged readers to remember their faces should anything happen to activists in the city. Yet nowhere in the post was there a public explanation of how these individuals had been identified as intelligence operatives. No documents were cited. No eyewitness accounts were presented. No independent verification accompanied the accusation. Readers were expected to accept the conclusion without being shown the evidence that led to it.

This raises a fundamental question that extends beyond one protest or one organization: What standard of evidence should govern accusations that can place identifiable individuals at risk?

The question is particularly significant because the label “spy” is not politically neutral in the context of the Philippine armed conflict. Former rebels interviewed by Lamdag recall that accusations of being military informants or intelligence assets were treated as grave offenses inside the Communist Party of the Philippines and the New People’s Army. Individuals suspected of espionage were subjected to internal investigations under the movement’s concept of revolutionary justice, and in numerous documented cases over several decades, such accusations became the basis for severe punishment or execution. Whether every accusation was ultimately proven mattered less than the fact that the label itself carried life-threatening consequences.

That historical experience explains why former rebels view the recent social media post with concern. The issue is not whether intelligence personnel attend public demonstrations. Security monitoring during major public gatherings is a routine function of law enforcement in many democratic societies. Nor is the issue whether activists have the right to question or document the presence of suspected intelligence personnel. They do. The concern arises when an accusation moves from suspicion to certainty without publicly demonstrating how that conclusion was reached.

Photographs alone rarely establish identity or affiliation. A person carrying a camera at a public gathering may be a journalist, researcher, police officer, organizer, student, or an ordinary citizen documenting events. They may also be an intelligence operative. The point is that a photograph, standing alone, cannot reliably distinguish one from the other. Any public accusation built on that premise therefore demands additional evidence before it can be responsibly accepted.

Ironically, the same principle has long been invoked by organizations opposing red-tagging. They have argued, correctly, that political labels unsupported by evidence undermine due process and place individuals in unnecessary danger. That principle should not lose its force simply because the label changes from “communist” to “spy.” If unsupported accusations are objectionable because they endanger rights and encourage public prejudice, the identity of the accuser should not determine whether those concerns apply.

This is not an argument against public scrutiny of intelligence operations. If state agents unlawfully monitor citizens, abuse their authority, or violate constitutional rights, such conduct deserves investigation and public accountability. But accountability requires evidence, not assumption. It requires demonstrating why an accusation is justified rather than asking the public to accept it on faith.

For Lamdag, this issue is informed by more than political debate. Many of our contributors once lived inside an armed movement where allegations of espionage could become matters of life and death. That experience does not make our perspective infallible, but it does remind us that labels are never harmless when attached to identifiable individuals without proof. We have seen how suspicion can become investigation, how investigation can become judgment, and how judgment can become violence.

For that reason, Lamdag rejects all forms of indiscriminate political labeling. Whether the accusation is that someone is a communist, a terrorist, a military asset, or a spy, the standard should remain unchanged. Serious allegations deserve serious evidence. Anything less risks replacing facts with assumption and due process with public conviction.