The June 22, 2026, shooting at San Jose National High School in Tacloban City should have jolted the nation into action.
Two minors, aged 14 and 15, allegedly armed with a Glock 9mm pistol and a .38 revolver, left three students dead and 22 others injured. The horror of the tragedy was matched only by the questions that followed.
How did children get access to firearms? Where were the parents? Where were the adults?
And what kind of society have we become when teenagers settle their grievances with bullets instead of words or fists?
Government agencies — the police, local government units and the Department of Education (DepEd) — immediately went into crisis mode, searching for explanations and scrambling for solutions.
Bullying quickly emerged as the likely trigger. Sadly, bullying is no longer the exception in schools. It has become almost part of the landscape.
In my elementary and high school years, there were disagreements, arguments and the occasional fistfight, but not the culture of humiliation and psychological warfare that social media and smartphones have magnified today. Perhaps it was because I grew up in communities where everybody knew everybody else, where one was more likely to be a cousin than an anonymous classmate and where children went home to radio dramas rather than digital worlds.
Today, however, a child may be bullied not only in the classroom but 24 hours a day through a device carried in a pocket.
Some observers have pointed to avatar-based applications and online communities where vulnerable children can immerse themselves in alternate identities and toxic interactions detached from reality.
The numbers suggest that this is no isolated problem. A 2022 report by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) found that more than half of Filipino boys and 43 percent of Filipino girls experienced bullying at least several times each month.
That should have been alarming enough even before blood was spilled in Tacloban.
Following the shooting, the DepEd declared a “high-alert situation” and dispatched officials to coordinate with local authorities and law enforcement. Fair enough.
But the more interesting development happened hundreds of kilometers away in Dumanjug. Reacting to the growing fears over school safety, Mayor Gungun Gica issued an executive order imposing a “no inspection, no entry” policy and prohibiting cellular phones inside school campuses.
One can debate whether the policy is wise, effective, or practical. But at least someone acted.
Then came reports that the DepEd wanted a copy of the mayor’s policy for “review and evaluation.” Review and evaluation? Why? Did the local government ask permission before protecting its children?
Since when did local officials require clearance from Manila or the bureaucracy before exercising their police powers to preserve public safety?
The Constitution guarantees local autonomy precisely because local governments are expected to respond quickly to local problems.
The mayor of Dumanjug was not rewriting the curriculum. He was not changing graduation requirements. He was not altering academic standards. He was responding to a public safety concern in his community.
That is exactly what local governments are supposed to do. Coordination between local governments and national agencies is desirable. Subordination is not.
If the purpose of the review was merely to ensure consistency with existing DepEd regulations and learners’ rights, then there is little controversy.
But if the review was intended to determine whether the local government may impose such measures at all, then the education bureaucracy risks crossing the line from coordination into intrusion.
Perhaps the better question is this: Where is DepEd’s own national policy on smartphones inside schools?
If local governments are acting because they perceive a vacuum in national policy, perhaps the problem is not local initiative but national hesitation.
Schools Division Superintendent Senen Priscilo Paulin has emphasized that local measures must remain consistent with national policies and learners’ rights under DepEd Order 006, Series of 2026. That is fair.
Rights matter. But rights come with responsibilities, and the first responsibility of government is public safety. Dead students enjoy no rights.
Ultimately, Congress should be part of the discussion.
If lawmakers were not consumed by the impeachment proceedings involving VP Sara Duterte, perhaps they could begin debating restrictions on smartphone and social media access for younger children.
Other countries already have. Australia has enacted landmark legislation restricting social media access for children under 16 and requiring technology companies to take reasonable measures to prevent underage users from accessing their platforms.
The list includes Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Snapchat, X, YouTube, Reddit, Threads, Twitch and Kick.
The tragedy in Tacloban demands answers about guns, parenting, bullying and technology.
But it also raises another question.
When local governments move decisively to protect children, should national agencies be asking, “Who gave you authority?” Or should they be asking, “How can we help?”