14/07/2026
IN MEMORIAM: Leandro "Lean" Alejandro
(July 10, 1960 — September 19, 1987)
*****
COVER STORY
'WE ARE NOT SIMPLY ADVENTURIST YOUTH'
By Francoise Joaquin
Mr & Ms Special Edition
July 13, 1984
WHEN UP Student Council Chairman Leandro Alejandro shows up for an interview, a little over ten minutes late, it is with an apology for the delay. He has received word that a student mass action group, set to assemble Tuesday afternoon at Morayta, is to be teargassed by the military, and he has necessarily had "to attend to a few things."
Tall and lean with a solemn but amiable air, "Lian" does not sport the loud rhetoric or the towering stature assumed by the student leader stereotype.
The impression he gives even as he traipses about on slippers, is that of the son of a middle class family which he is. His accountant-father is working in Saudi and his mother, a teacher at the Tanza Elementary School in Navotas. But she is not, as one would readily presume of the mother of Lian, a member of the radical Alliance of Concerned Teachers. He celebrated his 24th birthday last Tuesday by picketing the Western Police District to protest that tear-gassing of students of Morayta on their way to Mendiola.
Lian lacks only six units in P.E. to obtain an AB degree major in Philippine Studies. His extracurricular concerns are far from scholarly and though mild and unassuming, his movements speak of grim determination.
The Friday before, canisters of the gas had effectively and painfully dispersed a crowd of over 5000 at Mendiola, and Lian grimly views the possibility of a repeat performance when the students face Malacañang again today with their demands. "We have the right, at the very least," he stresses, "to air our demands, and the military has no right to inflict violence against defenseless students."
His point, almost dramatic, is cause for not a little worry: "The violence will not come from us — we will be very peaceful; we will take precautions against any eruption of violence. But we will not allow them to indiscriminately hurt innocent people again." Denying rumors that the students are to come armed, he insists that the group's concern is "not how to fight back, but how to prevent" violence.
With this as target, Lian emphasizes the immediate need for a conscientization program. He elaborates, "We must air this publicly: that we are not simply adventurist youth, but are very serious about what we are doing and need [public] support." While counting on such sympathy to their cause as a major deterrent to military harassment, Lian cites more concrete precautions against unwanted violence: the use of plastic bags to envelop tear-gas containers, towels and handkerchiefs soaked in water and certain acidic substances (how does kalamansi sound?) to counter the chemical's alkaline base. And yet he hopes that the students will not be forced to resort to such measures: "Definitely if they hit us on Friday, it's going to escalate matters."
Serious and articulate, the student leader has not always been so militantly nationalist. "On the contrary," he recalls, "I was raised in a family that — with my father online particular — was pro-Marcos . . . I remember voting for the retention of martial law." In an earlier interview he described himself as a "typical martial law baby." For his elementary and high-school education, he went to St. James in Navotas. In college, critical of the UP Collegian, which he felt was "too political," Lian nevertheless decided to sign up for the school paper's features staff. Later, with a string of articles about demolition sites and the like to his name, he "discovered there was something wrong after all."
Three years ago, under SAMASA, a nationalist and democratic alliance of over 100 student organizations, Lian was elected president of the Student Council for the UP College of Arts and Sciences. That same year, hounded by the military, he went into hiding for eight months, during which he wrote a "farewell" letter to his family.
"I didn't want to get caught by surprise," he explains. "If anything did happen, I wanted them to know that I was thinking of them." Meeting first with Opposition from his home, then with fear for his safety, and finally with acceptance, Lian does not credit his experience as unique: "I guess for all young people like myself, at one point, [our families] realize that this is no fad; that this is a conscious decision; that we know what we're fighting for and are willing to make sacrifices."
He is hardly, he smiles, as "grim and determined" as he is made out to be: "Given a chance I'd just stay home and play chess, read in the afternoon, play a little tennis." But this tone, even in its lighter moments, is somewhat grave: "Maybe someday, when all the people can afford to play chess, and read in the afternoon, and play a little tennis, I'll do that. But right now, while people are being murdered and going hungry, it doesn't seem right to be playing chess."
Has he ever been accused of being a fanatic? "A fanatic, a subversive, a Communist," he laughs. And then is serious again as he deliberates, "Given the present political and economic situation, Marxism and Communism — or non-Marxism and non-Communism — should not be the bone of contention." What then should? "Sovereignty. Democratic rights. Social justice. Progress."
Asked whether he believes that egalitarianism is not literally and merely a utopian ideal, he replies, "I myself do not believe in equality in an absolute sense. I believe in equity — those who need more should be given more." The next question [is] obvious — who decides how much of what should go to whom? Lian underlines the importance of representation at the grassroots. The Batasan, he believes, fails to provide this. Describing the legislative body as "a creation of the dictatorship upon the recommendation of the U.S. government," Lian continues: "I do not see how we can use a tool of the dictatorship against it." The minority is limited in what it can accomplish: "More importantly, [the accomplishment] will be secondary, because the real battles are going to be fought in venues created by the people's protest movements, in institutions created by their struggles. If [the minority] recognizes this political reality, it could be even more productive."
Returning to the topic of fanaticism, Lian declares, "This is not a religion — dogmatic, inflexible to the point that your ideas are closed to reality." The point is pressed: is he not himself guilty of dogmatism? "Well, you can be flexible in tactics, in form; but in substance, there are fundamental things you will never compromise."
When the multi-sectoral protest group marches today to Malacañang, it will not compromise the objectives: "We will sit it out indefinitely." Then, if the administration still refuses to dialogue? "We will come back again and again — and again." And that, for Lian, is "launching a democratic struggle democratically."