The current Philippine flag with its blue and red horizontal bands, white triangle, golden sun, and three stars has become the internationally recognized symbol of Filipino identity. It is, however, in the revolutionary banners of the Katipunan where a deeper, more visceral expression of Filipino resistance was born. These forgotten flags, with their blood-red backgrounds and powerful symbols, reveal the radical foundations of Filipino nationalism that continue to resonate with diaspora communities today.
The first Filipino flags emerged from Andres Bonifacio’s secret revolutionary society, the Kataastaasan, Kagalanggalangang Katipunan ng mga Anak ng Bayan (Supreme and Honorable Association of the Children of the Nation), commonly known as the Katipunan or KKK. It is important to note that despite sharing the same acronym, this revolutionary group has absolutely no connection to the American white supremacist organisation. Far from the simplified nationalism of the modern flag, these revolutionary banners represented immediate, urgent resistance against colonial oppression.
The most recognizable early flag, crafted by Benita Rodriguez and Bonifacio’s wife Gregoria de Jesus, featured a stark red background with white “KKK” letters prominently displayed. This crimson canvas wasn’t chosen for mere visual impact. The red symbolised blood itself, specifically that of Katipunan members who signed their names with their own blood during initiation ceremonies, forming a literal blood compact of revolutionary brotherhood.
While various configurations of the KKK initials existed, sometimes arranged in a row, sometimes in a triangular pattern, and sometimes featuring just a single “K,” the blood red background remained constant, a visceral reminder of sacrifice. These were symbols of liberation.
The evolution of Katipunan flags reveals the developing revolutionary consciousness. General Pio del Pilar’s variant featured an equilateral triangle with a “K” at each angle and a rising sun behind a mountain, symbolic elements that would later influence the modern Philippine flag. The triangle represented liberty, equality, and fraternity, revolutionary concepts borrowed from Masonic traditions that heavily influenced the Katipunan. These symbolic elements would later influence the modern Philippine flag, though often stripped of their revolutionary urgency.
Bonifacio’s own banner, featuring a sunburst design with KKK letters beneath, was unfurled during the historic Cry of Pugadlawin on August 23, 1896 when Filipinos tore up their Spanish issued residence cards in defiance. This flag saw its baptism in blood just a week later during the Battle of San Juan del Monte, the Philippine Revolution’s first major engagement. In this bloody confrontation on August 30, 1896, over 800 Katipuneros led by Bonifacio attacked Spanish artillery positions, suffering heavy casualties that galvanised the revolutionary cause throughout the archipelago.
Perhaps most striking was General Mariano Llanera’s black flag with a white “K” alongside a skull and crossbones. Known as Bungo ni Llanera (Llanera’s Skull), this macabre banner flew over revolutionary troops in Bulacan, Tarlac, Pampanga, and Nueva Ecija, a stark challenge to Spanish authority and a promise of relentless resistance unto death.
The Masonic influence on Katipunan symbolism extended beyond the flags to elaborate initiation rituals. Santiago Alvarez of the Magdiwang council described an initiation room containing a skull and crossbones from a human skeleton, weapons, and a paper with “blood colored characters.” The walls featured a black banner with skull and crossbones beneath three “K” letters arranged as a tripod.
Meanwhile, the Magdalo faction in Cavite adopted a culturally significant banner featuring a red background with a white sun and the baybayin character for ‘Ka’, connecting revolutionary symbology to pre-colonial Filipino sun worship while maintaining the blood-red canvas that unified revolutionary iconography. This profound connection to native heritage continues today, as modern Filipino activists and progressive organizations use “Ka” (short for “Kasama” meaning “comrade”) as an honorific prefix to names—from labor leaders like Ka Crispin Beltran to prominent figures in leftist movements such as Ka Satur Ocampo, signifying solidarity, equality, and collective struggle in a direct lineage from the Katipunan’s revolutionary tradition.
The revolutionary symbolism extended to the members themselves, who wore different coloured hoods during meetings based on their rank. First degree members (Katipon) wore black hoods with the initials Z.LI.B (corresponding to A.N.B for Anak ng Bayan, Children of the Nation) inside a triangle. Second degree members (Kawal) wore green hoods with the same initials arranged differently. The highest rank, Bayani (Heroes), wore red masks with KKK arranged in a triangular pattern inside a triangle.
This hierarchy of revolutionary commitment, visually coded in colors and symbols, reveals how the Katipunan understood resistance as requiring different levels of dedication and risk taking, a nuanced approach to revolutionary organization often overlooked in simplified historical accounts. This nuanced approach to organizing resistance speaks directly to contemporary Filipino activists who recognize that decolonisation is not merely an intellectual exercise but demands concrete action and different levels of commitment in the ongoing struggle against modern oppression.
While the modern Philippine flag has become the standard bearer of Filipino national identity, these forgotten revolutionary flags speak more directly to contemporary Filipino resistance, resilience, and pride. For diaspora communities like here in Sydney, the blood red Katipunan banners represent a more radical heritage of resistance, one that demands absolute commitment rather than mere symbolic allegiance.
While the modern Philippine flag has become the standard bearer of Filipino national identity, these forgotten revolutionary flags speak more directly to contemporary Filipino resistance, resilience, and pride. For diaspora communities like here in Sydney, the blood red Katipunan banners represent a more radical heritage of resistance, one that demands absolute commitment rather than mere symbolic allegiance. These revolutionary symbols embody the deeper Filipino value of kapwa (shared identity) in its most profound form that moves beyond the surface interactions of pakikitungo (civility) and pakikisama (going along with the group) to the deeper connections of pakikipagkaisa (being one with others) that formed the spiritual foundation of the Katipunan’s blood compact. For Filipino communities worldwide, reclaiming these flags means embracing a revolutionary understanding of kapwa that transcends colonial boundaries and unites all who struggle for justice and liberation.
As Filipino communities worldwide engage with questions of identity and decolonisation, these forgotten flags deserve reconsideration not as mere historical curiosities, but as powerful symbols of a revolutionary tradition that continues to inspire resistance against contemporary forms of oppression. In their stark colors and bold symbols, they remind us that Filipino identity was forged not only through diplomatic negotiations but through blood soaked struggle against colonial power.
