Why does religion become part of a crime story when the suspect is a Muslim, but stay irrelevant when he is not? This is not a demand that Muslims be spared scrutiny — it is a demand for one standard of journalism: fair, consistent, and free of religious bias.
Philippine media have long pinned religious labels on crime like "Muslim" kidnapper, bandit, terrorist. The practice is deplorable and undermines the national concord this country needs. Crime is committed by an individual, not by a creed, yet when "Muslim" is placed before a description often enough, the label can outlast the offense itself.
This foregrounding of Muslim identity recurs across cases. In a 2001 Cagayan de Oro robbery case, broadcasters questioned a suspect about being Muslim after learning he came from predominantly Muslim Bayabao, Lanao del Sur, although his religion had no bearing on the alleged crime. In October 2022, police repeatedly referred to the men involved in the Leila de Lima hostage-taking as "Muslims." Senator Robin Padilla objected, saying suspects should be identified by name rather than religion when faith is irrelevant; PNP Chief Rodolfo Azurin Jr. subsequently apologized.
The issue resurfaced in February 23, 2026 when columnist Ramon Tulfo, in his Facebook post, described alleged suspects in the killing of CAAP official Joanna Infante as "Muslims from Lanao del Sur" and labeled the CAAP-Puerto Princesa chief a "Maranao Muslim." Bangsamoro Chief Minister Abdulraof Macacua responded that responsible journalism should not use religion or ethnicity to identify individuals when irrelevant, warning that such language can reinforce discrimination. Akbayan Rep. Dadah Kiram Ismula rightly called this religious profiling. Two days later, Tulfo apologized and admitted: "A Muslim is a follower of Islam, a religion of peace," alongside his apology as reported in Star FM Cotabato.
In incidents such as the recent Ateneo de Zamboanga shooting, online discussions sometimes emphasized the suspect's Islam religion, whereas comparable shootings at schools in Tacloban were not framed in religious terms at all. Investigations should turn on evidence, motive, and individual conduct while faith enters only if genuinely established as a reason for the bullying. Otherwise, dragging Islam into a narrative risks casting suspicion on an entire community.
Media personalities wield influence and should use it carefully — their platforms inform, but just as easily entrench stereotypes. Anyone holding relevant information should bring it to investigators, while public discourse should clarify facts and not turn religious identity into a proxy for guilt. Accountability and fairness are not in tension. We can insist the guilty be identified, prosecuted, and punished while rejecting collective blame outright. The Constitution's guarantees of religious freedom and equal protection must hold even under public pressure.
Research provides broader context. A 2019 study by the Letran Research Center analyzed 213 Muslim-related news items across three major broadsheets — the Philippine Daily Inquirer, Philippine Star, and Manila Bulletin — and found that 115 of them (54%) cast Muslims in a negative light, with most of that coverage tied to terrorism, conflict, or crime. These findings do not prove a nationwide Muslim against Christian labeling disparity. However, they do document recurring incidents and media stereotyping. The journalistic principle is straightforward: identify the suspect, not the religion, unless it is demonstrably relevant to the crime. This pattern is not new; it has deep historical roots in how Muslims in the Philippines have been named and labeled.
The Weight Behind the Name
The label carries history. The debate over naming did not begin with today's newsrooms. Zamboanga's older slur, "Muklo," used against Muslims into the late 1970s, was never harmless; it marked people as outside the mainstream, much like the larger contested name "Moro" itself. The early Muslims so labeled were never fully subdued or Christianized as other parts of the archipelago were; the Moro story is one of resistance, not just a colonial label. Some reject the name outright like Abdulrasad Asani titled his essay "Moros, Not Filipinos!", while others lacking an alternative to their own ethnic names, have settled for "Filipino Muslims."
The name was born of conflict. The Spanish use of "Moro" in the Philippines was connected to the European designation of Muslim peoples as Moors, particularly those associated with Muslim Iberia and North Africa. When Spain fell under the Umayyad Caliphate, Muslim rule in parts of the Iberian Peninsula began in 711 and continued through successive Muslim polities until the fall of Granada in 1492. When Spanish conquistadores later encountered Islamized peoples in Mindanao and Sulu, they applied the familiar term "Moro" to them. In the Philippine colonial context, however, the word acquired increasingly negative associations—violence, piracy, savagery, and the supposed incapacity of Muslims for civilization. Yet history also contains an irony: the people the Spaniards called Moros were never completely subdued during Spain's centuries of colonial rule.
Yet Muslim and non-Muslim scholars alike have long turned that label into a record of resistance, not savagery, in three works spanning the early twentieth century. In 1908, Najeeb M. Saleeby, in his work 'The History of Sulu', argued a people once branded "a black devil incarnate" could hardly surrender their customs and faith without a fight. In 1923, Dr. Sixto Y. Orosa, in his book 'The Sulu Archipelago and Its People', credited the Moros not with backwardness but with stubborn loyalty to their religion and customs, and an unyielding strength of spirit. In 1936, Vic Hurley, in his book 'Swish of the Kris: The Story of the Moros', called them "a grand people," noting most of what was written about them came from their enemies, and that they proved too strong for the Spanish across four centuries of attempted conquest.
That reclamation peaked when Nur Misuari and his comrades named their movement the Moro National Liberation Front in the late 1960s. A term that began as an externally imposed slur, and acquired derogatory meaning, was reclaimed as a marker of collective identity, dignity, and resistance — a name once laden with contempt turned into a banner of liberation.
This history is not academic. It matters precisely because today's media language does not exist in a vacuum: repeated religious labeling of crime can revive old stereotypes of the Moro as violent or dangerous, giving colonial name-calling a modern broadcast vocabulary. The real question was never whether media may report a suspect's identity, but whether religion was relevant enough to warrant emphasis.
Journalists should be wary of attaching religious labels to crime — a casual adjective can echo an old pattern of naming Muslims by their faith, not their deeds. Absent clear evidence of relevance, why make creed or faith part of the offense's public identity?
Imagine labels like a "Christian" rapist, holdupper, extortionist, or con artist: the absurdity exposes the problem. A Christian's faith does not explain his conduct, and the same applies to Muslims. This differs little from racial arrogance, where a majority assumes a monopoly on virtue while trampling a minority's dignity.
It is time this religious slant is rectified, by a law Congress should pass soon. Muslims are not asking for privilege or exemption from legitimate criticism, but only the same fairness accorded everyone else. Do not turn one person's faith into a verdict against millions. Crime belongs to the criminal; faith belongs to the believer. Responsible journalism, above all, should know the difference.•
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Dr. Darwin T. Rasul III is a political analyst, writing as a regular columnist of OpinYon. He has served as Expert-Consultant of European Union Germany, ARMM Cabinet Assistant Secretary (Asec.), Editor-in-Chief of ARMM Official Publication, and was a legislative researcher and then as consultant in the Senate of the Philippines. He is a book author and has written scholarly papers on political and historical issues about the Muslims in the Philippines.