
The Philippines is known for its beautiful beaches and friendly people. But now American missiles are setting up camp on our soil. The US calls this a “mutual agreement.”
We have all read about big countries bringing their wars to small nations. However, it’s never the politicians and generals in air-conditioned rooms who suffer. It’s the ordinary people: the fishermen, the farmers, the students who just want to go to school, the ordinary families just trying to live their lives, and the elders who remember the bombs of World War II.
After the arrival of the Typhon midrange capability missile system last April, US officials murmured about sending more, while Philippine officials eagerly suggested making them permanent fixtures, as if these war machines were mere tourist attractions.
These missiles are no longer the old Spanish cannons that dotted Manila’s coastline — relics of a faded empire. They are live wires in the high-voltage tension between Washington and Beijing, and the Philippines, once again, is being asked to hold both ends.
These missiles might make the US feel safer or supposedly protect our sovereignty, but they put a target on our backs. When China is unwilling to sit back but watches tensions explode, Filipinos will be caught in the middle.
We’ve been through this before. War leaves scars that last for generations. The Philippines is no stranger to being caught between giants — three centuries under Spain, half a century under America, and then the nightmare years of Japanese occupation. Each time, the promise was security. Each time, our people paid in blood.
Behind every statistic in US military interventions lies a human story. Based on historical research and datasets like the Costs of War Project (Brown University), Watson Institute, and Uppsala Conflict Data Program, the human cost of US military actions since 1945 reveals staggering losses across continents.
In East Asia, the Korean War (1950-53) killed 2.5 to three million (70-80 percent civilians), while the Vietnam conflict (1955-75) claimed two to four million lives, including 1.5 to two million civilians from Agent Orange and other bombings.
Cambodia suffered 500,000 to 1.2 million deaths from US bombings (2.7-million tons dropped) and the subsequent Khmer Rouge violence.
The Middle East endured particularly devastating consequences. Iraq reportedly saw 20,000 to 50,000 deaths in the 1991 Gulf War, followed by 288,000 direct combat deaths (2003-2011) plus 500,000 to one million from sanctions. Afghanistan’s 20-year war was said to have left 243,000 dead (46-percent civilians), while Syria’s proxy conflict killed more than 350,000.
Not to mention the indirect interventions that proved to have been equally deadly, there are more whose numbers likely undercount actual casualties, with lasting environmental damage and continued loss of lives generations later.
When we debate foreign policy, we’re not arguing strategy — we’re deciding whose children get to live.
Is this the future we want? More weapons, more risks, more danger for our children? Or should we demand absolute security, not from missiles, but from strong friendships, smart diplomacy, and a commitment to peace. The choice is ours, but we must make it before it’s too late.