MALAYBALAY CITY (MindaNews / 27 March) — Top officials of Bukidnon urged for unity towards progress as the Kaamulan, a festival that aims to showcase the province’s indigenous cultures, formally opened on Saturday with a ritual and other colorful activities.

Gov. Rogelio Neil P. Roque, overseeing his first Kaamulan as governor after winning the post in the May 2022 elections, called for a focus on positive similarities for the entire province.

He said lessons on unity could be learned from the indigenous peoples of Bukidnon, whose different traits have not stopped them from coming together [for the festival].

Kaamulan traces its etymology to “amul-amul,” which means to gather or come together in Binukid, the province’s indigenous language.

For this year the festival carries the theme ““One Bukidnon: A celebration of unity in cultural diversity.”

”Let us gather together in a peaceful brotherhood for a peaceful and prosperous Bukidnon,” Roque said, adding the focus should not be on individual music but on harmony, the music sum, which he said “is greater than the music played by individual parts.”

He urged Bukidnon’s 1.5 million residents in 464 barangays, 20 towns and two cities, and seven tribes to “bond” as “one Bukidnon.”

In the run-up to the May 2022 elections, then 4th District Rep. Roque ran with the slogan “Bagong Bukidnon” (New Bukidnon).

The governor also expressed hope for a better economy for the province after the pandemic, which stalled the staging of the Kaamulan in 2020, 2021, and 2022.

”Finally we can celebrate the Kaamulan… I can see our patronage of food and goods. I hope that our merriment may result in the rise of our economy, in business, tourism, and others,” he said in his remarks, made after the presentation of the contingents in the elementary category of the drum and lyre competitions.

Vice Gov. Clive D. Quiño thanked other officials and organizers for the staging of Kaamulan 2023 and offered thanks to God for stopping the pandemic and allowing the celebration.

He said the people of Bukidnon, like the seven tribes, are strongly united, understanding, and loving, which to him is the “spirit of Kaamulan.”

Earlier, Roque and Quiño led local and regional officials in the ribbon-cutting, which was done after the pamukalag, a traditional ritual led by baylans (shamans) and elders of the province’s seven tribes.  

According to a briefing kit provided to the media, the pamukalag is a pangabli, or an opening ritual, which is traditionally done before any tribal activity is started. The ritual is done as a pangampo or an offering of aspirations and prayers to keep the Kaamulan activities away from accidents and other untoward incidents and for peace and order to prevail instead.

The shamans offered a pig and seven chickens of different colors in the ritual, the chickens symbolizing the seven tribes.

Datu Bagani Arbie S. Llesis, the indigenous peoples mandatory representative to the Sangguniang Panlalawigan, said he is hoping for the passage of the IP Code in the province to ensure a budget for the IPs.

He said that since Bukidnon is now a “shared territory” of Lumad and non-Lumad, the IPs should be included in the province’s development.

He recounted the time when it was the Lumad who accommodated and helped the settlers when they arrived in Bukidnon.

He said it may be high time for the settlers to “return the love back to the IPs.”

”Gagaw (love in Binukid) is the spirit of Kaamulan,” he added.  (MindaNews)

MALAYBALAY CITY (MindaNews / 12 May) — Pablo Torre, a Filipino-American sportswriter, drew criticisms for wearing a Sablay from the University of the Philippines even if he himself isn’t a graduate of the country’s premier academic institution.

Graduates of UP in particular must have felt offended that somebody who doesn’t “belong” had the temerity to do such a sacrilegious act. “You’ve got no right, Bro, only us who were welcomed by the Oblation may wear it. Know your place.”

True, the Sablay symbolizes something both abstract and concrete that should be treated as a totem, like a religious relic that deserves the utmost respect.

I have read Mr. Torre’s response to the adverse reactions to what was deemed as an improper use of the Sablay. The guy sounded contrite and apologetic, explaining that he did it simply to honor his father and other family elders who graduated from UP. In other words, he meant no malice and intent to usurp such symbol. That, I think, should put the whole issue to rest.

No, I didn’t write this piece in defense of Mr. Torre; he’s capable of doing that for himself. Rather, I’m both amused and dismayed that many people get easily offended at the slightest hint of “outsiders” encroaching into [their] inviolable spaces, yet appear to be silent when the same offense is done unto others.

In other words, there seems to be a double standard, hypocrisy even, in this regard.

Let me cite as an example the practice of appropriating cultural symbols belonging to the Lumad or indigenous peoples of Mindanao. This is prevalent during festivals and other public functions where government officials and dignitaries wear ethnic attire either on their own desire to do so or at the egging of event managers. For the men, it would include headdresses for tribal chieftains or datu.

Having worked and interacted with Lumad communities for over 30 years now, I know that becoming a datu requires tutelage in the ways of the tribe since youth, community acceptance, leadership qualities, and a series of rituals to ask for blessings and wisdom from spirits they believe influence the course of human affairs. The headdress (tangkulo) is a symbol of sacred authority, not just a piece of aesthetic item, and it can only be worn by those who have fulfilled these requirements.

Members of the UP community maintain, and rightly so, that the Sablay should only be worn during academic events, and only by them.

Now, who will speak in behalf of the Lumad whose sacred cultural symbols are often bastardized and commercialized, all in the name of — of all things — culture? They may be largely silent about it, but it doesn’t mean no offense was committed.

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. H. Marcos C. Mordeno can be reached at hmcmordeno@gmail.com.)

ESPERANZA, Agusan del Sur (MindaNews / 25 May) – Lumad leaders and local officials of this town are planning to lodge a cyber libel complaint against a vlogger for accusing them of being involved in illegal drugs, among other allegations.

The vlogger aired his live commentaries against Mayor Deo Manpatilan Jr, tribal leaders, and officials of two villages on his Facebook accounts using the names “Ike Gavelino” and “Gavelino E. Rubio.”

Gavileno, who claimed to be a resident of Quezon City and the leader of a group he called United Indigenous Peoples of LuzViMinda (short for Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao), accused Manpatilan of not helping the poor Lumad in his town, maintaining a private army, involvement in illegal drugs, and of supporting the communist-led New People’s Army (NPA).

He also accused Piglawigan village chieftain Nilo Guillarte of selling lands he (Gavileno) claimed belong to the Wayoy Clan as ancestral lands, bringing along heavily-armed bodyguards to harass clan members living in their community, and as an NPA supporter.

He added that leaders in neighboring Lumad communities were in cahoots with Manpatilan and Guillarte.

Responding to a direct message from MindaNews on Facebook, the vlogger said his real name is 

Ike Rubio Gavileno and claimed he belongs to the Sugbuwanon Hiligaynon tribe.

Sugbuwanon refers to a resident of Cebu (old name Sugbu) while Hiligaynon is a variant of the language spoken by Ilongos.

Gavileno did not answer when asked if he could substantiate his allegations, and has deleted his Ike Gavileno account.

The officials have downloaded the videos containing Gavileno’s accusations and showed them during the press conference.

Teddy Manpatilan, head of the tribal affairs unit at the mayor’s office, said in a press conference Wednesday that they are contemplating filing a cyber libel complaint against the vlogger after finding out his real identity.

Teddy refuted the vlogger’s claims that the local government and indigenous people’s councils do not have an Ancestral Domain Sustainable Development Protection Plan (ADSDPP) saying the Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title No. 255 covering 20 villages in Esperanza had already formulated it.

For his part, Guillarte denied harassing Wayoy clan members to grab their lands. He said their village already had residents who owned farmlands with legal titles before the passage of Indigenous Peoples Rights Act of 1997.

Datu Kampilan Floro Engag, a Higaonon tribal chieftain of Langag village has clarified there were already 55 land titles issued by the government in 1955, long before the Wayoy Clan started to claim their ancestral lands.

Datu Kahusay Milbert Agosto, a leader of the Wayoy Clan, said “Mr. Ike” came in 2020 urging them to claim their ancestral lands but later learned he was driven by personal interest.

“I am disgusted to watch him doing all the false tirades against the mayor and many other leaders,” Agosto said.

Erwin Dumaguing, a former Army soldier said the mayor’s father, former mayor Datu Mankombate Deo Manpatilan Sr, worked out the enlistment of at least 44 Higaonon warriors into the Army to fight the communist rebels.

From 2004 to 2010, Dumauing was a team leader of the military’s Task Force Salakawan tasked to neutralize NPA rebels in all Higaonon villages of Esperanza.

Randy Manpatilan, another staffer at the tribal affairs unit, said the Manpatilan clan has been staunch anti-communist advocates that mayor Datu Mansaulog Lavi Manpatilan was gunned down by NPA hitmen while attending a wedding at a Catholic chapel in Butuan City in the 1980s. (Chris V. Panganiban/MindaNews)

SAN FRANCISCO, Agusan del Sur (MindaNews / 16 June) — A mining company said it is closely monitoring a social media account said to be spreading “fake news” to besmirch the reputation of its top executive.

In a statement, the Philsaga Mining Corp. Public Information Office said it already reported to the Philippine National Police Cybercrime Division and the National Bureau of Investigation the names involved in the Facebook account that was spreading false information against PMC president lawyer Raul C. Villanueva.

“They are all reported and we will file charges against them. This will qualify as a cyberlibel violation. Not only those who posted it but those who joined the fray,” the statement said.

It said it has traced the names of owner of the Facebook page “Ako Agusanon” but added they are withholding them pending an investigation by intelligence operatives.

“We are considering to file copyright complaint against them for using video footage during the solidarity movement without permission. However, we are not worried about the comments on their posts since it appears that these were dummy accounts or trolls just to boost their engagements,” the statement said.

It said the solidarity movement refers to the expression of support on April 3 this year staged by the different Manobo Lumad communities holding Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title No. 136 to the Philsaga Employees Labor Union, which is supporting Villanueva.

PMC has been rocked by a controversy owing to claims by one Joseph Mahusay that he has replaced Villanueva as company president as the latter has sold his 125,000 shares of stock.

Mahusay is the barangay chairman of Pansol in Quezon City and the security escort of Jeff McGlinn, managing director of X64, the Australian partner of PMC, whenever the latter would visit the country

But Villanueva said he never sold his stocks and that these are still in his name.

Early this year, PMC severed ties with X64 after McGlinn and its Hong Kong trading partner Komo Diti failed to remit some USD 4.8 million for the PMC share, depriving CADT 136 of royalties as the site of the firm’s mining operations.

McGlinn set up his own set of board of directors still using PMC’s corporate name with Mahusay as the new president.

The PMC statement asked the public not to believe reports published in national broadsheets over the past few weeks referring to Mahusay as the new president.

In a related development, Rep. Adolph Edward Plaza of Agusan del Sur 2nd District has categorically denied he has recognized Mahusay as the new PMC president.

The lawmaker’s denial came in the wake of a report published in a newspaper based in Cagayan de Oro City that Mahusay visited Plaza in his congressional office in Quezon City to inform him that he is the new PMC president and that the latter supported him.

Part of the report said: “Mahusay’s designation as the newest president of PMC was affirmed by Congressman Plaza, Representative of District II in the Province of Agusan del Sur, ensuring that all government offices are made aware of the management change.

In the same news report, Mahusay quoted  Plaza as saying, “As legitimate president of PMC, I want to emphasize unequivocally that I wholeheartedly support the current board and their efforts to date. They have demonstrated unwavering dedication and have proven themselves to be competent and trustworthy custodians of our company’s interests.

The online news report was no longer accessible as of Wednesday morning.

Plaza, whose district covers PMC’s mining site, denied Mahusay’s claim and told Villanueva through a Viber message that he instead told Mahusay that he would not interfere in what has now become a legal issue.

“He just laughed off that his name was dragged in Mahusay’s claims,” Villanueva told reporters in a live Zoom interview on Tuesday.

Villanueva showed the screenshot of their conversation through a Facebook Messenger group chat.

He said Plaza would not mind if the Viber chat would be used as proof of the conversation because he wanted to detach himself from the impending legal battle. (Chris V. Panganiban/MindaNews)

DAVAO CITY (MindaNews / 18 August) — The eyes of Ata couple Josephine and Dodong Macla light up every time they catch a glimpse of their tribemates on one of the giant screens at Davao City’s People’s Park. It is approaching the weekend of the annual Kadayawan Festival in this city.

“It’s like the Olympics,” Josephine says, holding her Android phone in one hand and her other hand cupping her elbow. Indeed, it is, as they are watching 11 tribes play friendly tribal games at the annual Dula Kadayawan on Thursday. The couple is seated at another part of the park and have a front row view of the games being livestreamed by city government employees.

The Dula Kadayawan gathers representatives from the city’s 11 tribes, playing games from both Lumad and Moro inclinations. 

Josephine explains her favorite dula, the sisibow, a game reminiscent of lowlander siatong. In this game, a pair of players, usually a boy and a girl, take turns throwing bamboo sticks at another pile of bamboo. The pile comprises sticks leaning on one another, and whoever topples the pile “wins” the game. 

“We won second place,” Josephine says, half-distracted by all the festivities around the already busy park that once served thousands of vaccinees during the pandemic. 

The other games are as fascinating as sisibow. These include bibinayo (a team rice pounding competition) bubuntug (spear-throwing), kakasing (a home-made spinning top competition, kanggarotaya (a Moro version of tug of war), karang (stilt race), pana (bow and arrow competition), siklot (a cassava stalk balancing competition), sipa sa lama (a graceful and ceremonial version of ‘takyan’), sipa sa mangis (where players kick a ball towards a suspended basket that drops points when hit), solopot (a blowgun competition), sosakaro (water fetching), totaringki (fire-making), sasalisid, and usuroy. 

In pana, boys test their prowess in using bow and arrow, while in sasalilid they must spear a wooden target rolled downrange. 

Easier travel

Josephine is 27, and Dodong is 43. They have been living together for six years, and in recent years the travel downtown has been easier compared to when they weren’t married yet. 

There used to be a time when people from Paquibato had to travel as long as 10 hours total to get to places like Davao City. 

According to Ata Tribe Coordinator Roel Arthur Ali, travel is much easier now, with roads leading to and from a far-flung area once known to be teeming with insurgency only taking around three to four hours. 

“Before the roads, we used to travel at least three hours on vehicles,” Ali says. The rest of the way, he says, consisted of four-hour walks, with some of the places like Macla’s Barangay Pañalum once inaccessible by basic government services. 

Before the roads, if someone from the tribes happened to be in a medical emergency, Ali said that that would be it for that patient, as transport would take too long. 

Paquibato is now a three- to four-hour road trip, which is relatively short, according to Dodong. To get to their portion of Paquibato, visitors have to pass through Panabo, hire an ‘Ongbak,’ tricycle at 100 pesos per head or 500 pesos if you want the trip to yourself. “If you’re a reckless driver, you can now make Paquibato in two hours!” he jokes. 

Preserving cultural heritage

Back home, their communities in the upland struggle not only with basic social services but also with the preservation of cultural practices.

Volunteers help in the preservation of their customs among younger members of the community, in community level learning institutions called the Panoloan, locally translated as “learning spaces.” It is here that younger Ata keep the knowledge of their heritage alive, through lessons and sharings by volunteers and elders. 

According to Roel, it is important to preserve what he calls, in English, their “legacy of culture.” And the way Roel sees it, the games are part of this.

Dodong says that each tribe has a version of the games being played during the annual sportsfest. In their communities, the different indigenous groups engage in friendly sport once in a while, even in this age where children are spending more time online. 

For their part, the couple isn’t a stranger to digital connectivity, however limited. They say that their area has internet access, but it’s limited only to one of the networks, while the others are still trying to come in. 

In terms of cultural heritage, the burden is shared among a group of leaders called the Lolopongan Topogoyan to Ingon, whose council provides counsel in terms of settling disputes, traditions, and other cultural topics. 

The council of leaders provides each community with the guidance it needs to approach development, while also preserving their own heritage. 

Roel says he is seeing the direct effects of the development in their area. He cites the impact of road networks and nearer facilities such as the Paquibato District Hospital. At some point, the teachers who were assigned to Paquibato would have to travel from Davao City by Monday dawn to get to their communities for a day or two of teaching, before they would come back downtown.

Because of the relative improvements, the teachers could now make their way back and forth, from two days a week to five now. 

“These are small things but we appreciate the effects on our community,” Roel says. 

Bagobo Klata tribe rules the games

According to the City Information Office, the Bagobo-Klata won seven of the 11 games, namely sisibow, kakasing, sosaroko, bibinayo, totaringki, solopot, and siklot. The tribe dominated the games for the sixth year. 

The Matigsalug tribe came in second place after winning the pana contest (arrow shooting), bubuntug or bamboo spear throwing, and usuroy or tug-of-war.

The Bagobo-Tagabawa won the sisibow (boys), Obu-Manuvu clinched the major prize for the karang, and the Ata emerged as runner-up. Meanwhile, the Kagan tribe became the overall winner in the Moro games after winning three events – kagkingking (one-legged race) which is a newly introduced game, kanggarotaya, and sipa sa manggis (ball kicking game with the aim to hit suspended boxes).

The Iranun tribe won second place after winning the also newly introduced Moro game, the kakokor or coconut wringing and milking contest and sipa sa lama- a game similar to takyan but with more grace and ceremony. The Maranao tribe clinched the third spot after they won the kambaebae- the Moro version of Maria went to town.The winners received medals and cash prizes. 

For Josephine, Dodong, and Roel, even if their tribe did not clinch the overall title, they see the games as a way for them to show others in the city their culture. Places like Pañalum and Tapak were so isolated in the past four years that the pace of the pandemic did not bother these areas. Panalum is closer to Panabo, while Tapak is nearer to the borders of Bukidnon.

And for the couple, it is the first of a few times they feel being seen by their downtown counterparts. After all, they are Dabawenyos, too. (Yas D. Ocampo/MindaNews)

DAVAO CITY (MindaNews / 12 September) – Vice President Sara Duterte turned the Peace Village Exhibit held Monday in Davao City into an occasion to hit back at a legislator and other unnamed critics who questioned the inclusion of confidential funds in the 2024 budget for the Office of the Vice President as well as for the Department of Education where she serves as Secretary.

The exhibit, timed for the National Peace Consciousness Month, aims to showcase the gains of Peace 911, the city government’s peacebuilding program.

In her keynote speech, Duterte acknowledged the exhibit as the culmination of the decades-long fight against communist insurgency in Davao City, particularly in Paquibato, Calinan, and Marilog Districts.

She said the event marked the end of the local government’s campaign against the New People’s Army.

In the same speech, however, she called ACT Teachers Rep. France Castro as one of the few “terrorists” allegedly peddling lies against her office.

Castro and other leaders of the minority from both chambers of Congress had challenged the necessity of the confidential funds for the OVP and DepEd.

Castro also said the 2022 OVP budget had no confidential funds among its line items, but that Duterte, after assuming the office in June 2022, obtained P125 million confidential funds.

Duterte dismissed Castro’s attacks as unsubstantiated and a futile defense against the OVP’s efforts to link Castro’s group with the NPA. 

The vice president said that between them Castro is more dangerous, citing that the latter was charged with kidnapping and human trafficking.

Duterte was alluding to the cases filed against Castro, former Bayan Muna Rep. Satur Ocampo, and 16 other individuals who, during a National Solidarity Mission, transported 14 minors on 28 November 2018 from Talaingod, Davao del Norte to “rescue” them from harassment by the paramilitary group Alamara and the military.

The minors were students of the Salugpongan Community Learning Center, a school for Lumads that the military accused as a communist front.

The parents of the minors denied their children were kidnapped by the National Solidarity Mission. They said they had to leave Talaingod because the threats were “no longer bearable and became relentless. They have to leave for their safety.” (Miah Christine Bontilao/MindaNews)

Film Review: Killers of the Flower Moon
Directed by: Martin Scorsese
Written by: Martin Scorsese and Eric Roth based on a book by David Grann
Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio, Lily Gladstone, Robert de Niro and many others
Currently showing nationwide in cinemas.

I rarely review Hollywood films as I would rather champion our own Pinoy movies, especially those of Mindanawon filmmakers. However, the plot of this remarkable film—that combines elements of the Western, crime and drama film genres as to constitute an epic of a film—echoes very similar narratives to what have happened to the Lumad or our indigenous peoples that it is worth helping to popularize it, so there can be more viewers of this film.

While the events narrated in this riveting film took place in the 1920s impacting on the life of the Osage Native Americans living in the Osage County in Oklahoma, USA, parallel events are taking place in parts of Mindanao today. The only difference are the mineral resources found in the indigenous territories, the characters who constitute the villains of the story, the manner of the killings and the role of the law enforcers.

By the end of this film, justice was finally served as the culprits all ended up in jail and the killings temporarily ended. However, in the case of the injustices committed against our own Lumad communities, the eventuality that justice can be served is as impossible to attain as the ability of our State apparatus to end corruption and the reign of impunity. The other reality is that the agency tasked to protect the interests of our Lumad communities—the National Commission on Indigenous People (NCIP)—has been inutile in fulfilling its mandate.

To watch Killers, one has be patient to sit through more than three hours. Scorsese had no choice for there are many angles of the narrative that need to be seen on screen. There is the historical backdrop of how the white European-descended Americans occupied Native American territories, the discovery of oil (Oklahoma’s black gold), the change in the people’s lifestyle as they accumulated wealth, the tragic murders committed against the Osage nation, how the local powers-that-be were in collusion to stop any investigation of the murders and lastly—the driving force of the film—the marriage between a white American veteran and the Osage heiress of oil fortune. All of these were based on true events historically documented which David Grann incorporated into his novel.

Perhaps the producers should have considered doing a teleserye with at least a dozen episodes! However, this is a kind of film that should be seen on the wide screen inside a cinema. If viewed only with the computer or TV screen, it loses a lot of the power of the story-telling. Scorsese moves from presenting a wide screen view of the beauty of the landscape to intimate bedroom scenes. The film is book-ended with the meaningful rituals of the Osage nation, presented with deep respect and made possible by the filmmakers entering into a collaboration with the Osage elders.

The first one is a somber scene where the elders bury a ceremonial pipe, manifesting how they mourned the assimilation of their descendants into white American society. In a number of scenes, the elders lamented how they had earlier moved from another location and relocated to Oklahoma only to be pushed out again from their ancestral land. And that in the process they lost their warrior tradition and felt helpless to resist those who oppressed them. At the end of the film, there is a community ritual where through chanting and dancing, the Osage people celebrated the end of the killings. This is of course just a temporary respite, because we know that until today, the native Americans in the US continue to face discrimination from the white majority.

This film, produced at a whopping budget of USD 200 million, can only be described as having a series of sumptuous scenes. A whole town was built as a set for the film production right in a location in Oklahoma where a train would bring new migrants seeking jobs. A scene showing the arrival of all these migrants gave the film its majestic swept further heightened by the scene of the hundreds of oil towers arising out of the landscape. There are scenes of parades, a car chase, street dancing and so many other eye-popping scenes but which stay on the screen only a matter of minutes. Special attention given by the cinematographer is the burning of the ranch of Kale showing metaphorically the burning of the entire Osage nation.

A focus of the film is the mistreatment of the aboriginal people in what became the U.S.A. as viewed from the lens of one family among the Osage nation. This was the family of Mollie Kyle (played by Lily Gladstone) who owned the richest plot where oil was found. A wealthy rancher, William K. Hale (played by the outstanding actor Robert de Niro playing a villainous role), schemed to cash in on the Kyle’s oil headrights and life insurance policies.

Thus, he planned to find a way to eliminate all the members of Mollie’s family through various ways from poisoning to shooting them dead to dynamiting their homes. His plan to take over the Kyle family’s wealth was to have his nephew, Ernest Burkhart (a role that could bring another Oscar to Leonardo diCaprio), get married to Mollie. Eventually Hale and Ernest also schemed to kill Mollie by poisoning her, so that all the money then goes to Ernest and eventually to Hale. Suspecting foul play, Mollie found her way to Washington, D.C. to seek help to investigate the murders and eventually a group of FBI agents arrived in the scene to look into the crimes.

There are various scenes that help the viewer understand the repercussions of the white people’s colonization of the native Americans’ lands. Alienated from their land and culture, many of them were drawn to drinking and with the availability of moonshine, they began to be labelled by the whites as drunkards, a label that has persisted until today. There are repercussions in the intermarriages between white males and Osage women, including husbands killing their wives to secure their wealth. The gun culture of the Americans—typical of a Western film—is clearly profiled which has persisted until today resulting in the shooting of pupils in schools.

This film has been positively reviewed as a masterpiece by some film critics. A profile of Scorsese recently appeared in Time magazine, to pay homage to this great filmmaker as his recent film was released. Indeed, there has been no dearth in the favorable reviews that have appeared in media since the film was first shown in the Cannes festival and especially after its release. All aspects of the film—from the acting to the cinematography to the music—shows Scorsese at his best (not surprising for a director with a string of Oscar-nominated films, including Raging Bull, Mean Streets, Taxi Driver and Goodfellas).

But more than the pleasure of watching a truly excellent, engaging film—which serves as an antidote to all the Marvel films which unfortunately are the current blockbusters—watch Killers to understand the historical connection between how the white Americans treated indigenous peoples like the Osage nation and how the American colonizers in the country dealt with our own katutubo/Lumad.

When the Americans illegally took over the control of the archipelago (its only basis of occupation was the 1896 Treaty of Paris), continuing the Spanish colonial agenda, they did not recognize the rights of the Moro and the Lumad to their ancestral domain. The 1935 Constitution passed during the American regime recognized only private (with land titles) and public lands which belonged to the State. Henceforth the IP peoples remained powerless in securing titles of their ancestral land. This was supposed to change in 1997 with the passage of the Indigenous Peoples Rights Act. However, this law has not led to the emancipation of the IPs because of the loopholes in the law and the incapacity of the NCIP to fully live up to its mandate.

Meanwhile, the Americans allowed the entry of American corporations to take over vast tracts of land (at least 1,024 hectares) to set up plantations in many areas in Mindanao leading to the presence of plantations engaged in agri-business. And until today these plantations continue to expand further pushing Lumad communities out of their ancestral land. And they also encouraged mining companies to begin explorations leading to the setting up of the mining industry in this country. With the passage of the 1995 Mining Law, there has been no end to the aggressive drive of mining firms to take over vast tracts of land from Zamboanga to Cotabato to Surigao.

Where greedy corporate firms decide to take over vast of lands—by hook or by crook and unfortunately there are many crooks in government just willing to assist them—the eruption of violence follows. First there are harassments to push the IPs out of their lands. As they resist to protect their land rights, reports after reports indicate many of their leaders arrested, shackled in prisons and eventually summarily killed. Until today, the killings have persisted.

And we all know who are the actual killers, namely, the corporate firms’ armed guards, the abusive military and their para-military troops (including some IP leaders who have been won over through various means to support the military’s anti-insurgency campaigns in Lumad territories). But we also know who are ultimately the ones who order these killings, namely, those corporate honchos in Makati and their foreign counterparts! As shown in Killers, greed can be such an all-consuming drive for the rich that they have no qualms murdering those who stand in their way!

Who among our filmmakers—attention Joel Lamangan, Brillante Mendoza, Lav Diaz, Sheron Dayoc, Arnel Mardoquio, et al. —might make a film parallel to what Scorsese did with Killers? Who among our producers are willing to bankroll such a film with the possibility that everyone involved in the film could be red-tagged? And is there an audience for such a film when our movie audience prefer the slapstick films of Vice Ganda, the action films of Coco Martin and the teen-age flicks of our rising stars?

At least for now, we can be thankful that there is a Hollywood film that can mirror our own tragic history of how the Lumads have been treated for centuries already. One can only hope more Filipinos can watch this film and make a direct connection to the reality faced by our own indigenous people today. The month of October is supposed to be the month when we pay close attention to the situation of the IPs and find ways how we can be in solidarity with them to fight for their human and land rights!

In a statement released by the Episcopal Commission for Indigenous Peoples (ECIP) in observance of the 46th Indigenous People’s Sunday on October 8, the commission emphasized several critical issues and concerns related to IPs in the Philippines, and advocates for the recognition of indigenous communities’ rights to their ancestral lands and domains, considering it an essential aspect of their self-determination and cultural preservation.

In 1992, when Rigoberta Menchu Tum—a member of the K’iche’ tribe of Guatemala—received the Nobel Peace Prize, she spoke these words as part of her acceptance speech: “Our history is a living history, that has throbbed, withstood and survived many centuries of sacrifice. Now it comes forward again with strength. The seeds, dormant for such a long time, break out today with some uncertainty, although they germinate in a world that is at present characterized by confusion and uncertainty.”

Let us all take part in living out this history!

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Redemptorist Brother Karl Gaspar is Mindanao’s most prolific book author. Gaspar is also a Datu Bago 2018 awardee, the highest honor the Davao City government bestows on its constituents. He is presently based in Cebu City).

That moment to soar
on stage comes
crashing
on cosplay like wings
a “national costume”
that re-
presents

something
of nationality
perhaps
a nation
where two million
fly to foreign land
in a year
leaving families
carrying hope

a plane
symbolizing
screams
of bombs
wrecking
lumad mountains
Moro farms

or the final journey
of an OFW
arriving
in a brown box
no longer
feeling
the embrace of loved ones

with hundreds
of tribes
that wove stories and colors
the choice was
cold steel
with a 49 M peso slogan

what are we
but people who love
beauty shows
but not the land
we put up for sale

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Tyrone A. Velez is a freelance journalist and writer.)

Woman Lumad chieftain Bai Bibiyaon Ligkayan Bigkay from Talaingod, Davao del Norte has died, the Indigenous group Sabokahan IP Women announced December 6.

Bigkay died in an undisclosed place last November 20 “surrounded by loved ones,” the group said.   

She was buried in an undisclosed location after her death, which was in accordance with her wishes, Sabokahan IP Women added.  She had not returned to Mindanao since 2018 because of threats of arrests.  

The famed “Woman Warrior of Talaingod,” who became the face of the Lumad struggle for decades, was believed to be about 90 years old at the time of her death.

Bibiyaon was born in Natulinan in Talaingod, the ancestral home of the Matigsalug and Manobo tribes. 

In her biography, Ina Bai, her father was a tribal chieftain. At a young age, she showed her potential to lead when she would speak her mind in meetings and in resolving conflicts in the tribe and joined the resistance against logging companies encroaching their territory.

She was known as the first woman to lead as chieftain. 

Bigkay explained how she got her long name during an event in 2017 in Manila where she was conferred the Gawad Tandang Sora Award for her defense of their ancestral domain.

She said “bai” is a title conferred to Mindanao women of stature, while “bibiyaon” is her title as chieftain of her tribe. Thus, her title Bai Bibiyaon was attached to her name Ligkayan Bigkay.

Bigkay participated in the Lumad Mindanao Peoples Federation (LMPF) Assembly in 1986 in Kidapawan, North Cotabato that united the Indigenous groups in Mindanao to resist threats of ethnocide from logging, plantation and militarization in their lands.

The assembly also resolved to use the term “Lumad” meaning “born of the earth” to unify the 18 ethno-linguistic tribes in Mindanao.   

Bigkay was instrumental in the formation of the Salugpungan Ta Tanu Igkanugon in the early 1990s, a collective of Talaingod chieftains that united to resist the expansion activities of the logging firm Alcantara and Sons (Alsons). The Salugpungan waged a “pangayaw” against Alsons private guards.

In the 2000s, Bibiyaon was one of the Salugpungan leaders that pushed for the establishment of Salugpungan community schools with the help of religious groups and NGOs that supported them in the past.

Bigkay understood education is important to pass on their struggle to their next generation. “The youth need to be literate in order to protect their communities from further deception,” Sabokahan IP Women noted.

Bibiyaon also pushed education to help empower women. Sabokahan said the Bibyaon’s personal advocacy was to eliminate the traditional “buya” or arranged marriage.

“Rather than being confined to domestic roles and marriage, they could now become community health workers, teach scientific sustainable farming methods to improve the community’s food security, and school teachers,” the group said.

Bibiyaon’s stature made her a vital part in the formation of indigenous organizations, such as Katribu, Kalipunan ng Katutubong Mamamayan ng Pilipinas and SANDUGO Movement of Moro and Indigenous Peoples for Self-Determination.

She was the founding chairperson of Sabokahan To Mo Lumad Kamalitanan or “Sabokahan Unity of Lumad Women.”

When the Salugpongan schools were threatened by militarization, Bigkay joined the Manilakbayan campaign where Lumad leaders and students went to Manila to seek dialogue with officials and support from various institutions for their cause.

She had stayed in Manila since 2018, Sabokahan said, as there were threats of arrests after relatives in Talaingod were forced to sign affidavits calling for her “immediate rescue.”

She stayed with Lumad students who were “adopted” in bakwit schools in Manila, with students and teachers from various universities volunteering to teach the students.

The students called Ligkay as “inno” or grandmother, and remembered her waking up as early as 4 am to pound betel nuts, clean the surroundings, and prepare the materials for making indigenous beads.

Behind her fierce stature, the students learned much from their “inno” who never complained of their situation in Manila, who would sing the uranda, teach them how to craft beads, and tell them stories of their ancestral land, the Pantaron Range in Talaingod.

Bigkay had never married, saying “she has everything within her to survive with her hands, feet and head,” Sabokahan Women said. “She was happily married to the struggle and inherited hundreds of grandchildren who looked to her for guidance.”

For her lifetime commitment to defending the Lumad and the ancestral domain, Bigkay was conferred the Most Distinguished Awardee of the Gawad Bayani ng Kalikasan or “Environmental Heroes Award” in 2018 by the Center for Environmental Concerns, and is the third recipient of the Gawad Tandang Sora Award in 2017 from the University of the Philippines-Diliman College of Social Work and Community Development. (Tyrone Velez/MindaNews)

16^th of 18 parts

Part XVI

Chapter 7. It is Time for New Relationships

To complete the story of the formal peace process, it would have been fitting to also provide an account of the progress of implementation of the Peace Agreement. But until the plebiscite on the revised Organic Act of the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanaw is duly held and the results officially proclaimed, the process is not deemed complete and any account will be hanging and inconclusive. Our option is to merely give an overview of the status of implementation and proceed to the discussion of the other important dimensions of the peace process as a whole.

Status of Implementation

As of this writing, House Bill No. 7883 has been passed (in July 1999) in the House of Representatives and has been filed in turn in the Senate. It has undergone first reading and is presently being processed by the Committee on Local Government. While we cannot tell when the new legislation will be enacted by Congress and signed into law by the President, we are assured that all this will be accomplished before the local elections of May 2001.

The integration of the 7,500 MNLF mujahideen into the AFP and the PNP is, as of March 2000, 91% completed. A total of 5,250 MNLF members have been integrated into the Armed Forces. By the end of year 2000, the full integration of the MNLF elements shall have been attained. A total of 1,250 former MNLF elements have been integrated with the Philippine National Police (PNP). The remaining 250 took their oath last March 2000.[1]

The Office of the President issued E.O. 371 proclaiming a Special Zone Of Peace And Development (SZOPAD) in   the southern Philippines, and creating the Southern Philippines Council for Peace and Development (SPCPD) and the Consultative Assembly (CA). The performance of the SPCPD and the CA has been full of controversy. The government claims that it has fulfilled its part to the letter; the MNLF counters that the government has never provided sufficient funds and guidelines to enable it to succeed. This matter constitutes an entirely new subject for research. We are attaching here a copy of the Joint Monitoring Committee Report. (Appendix F). Let us now move on to other important dimensions of the peace process.

Where Stand the Lumad in the GRP-MNLF Peace Process?

A quick look at the population figures of the 14 provinces covered in the territory of the autonomous region will indicate that there are at least 12 Lumad ethno-linguistic groups which constitute 5.37 percent of the total population. They are the Subanen in the Zamboanga peninsula; the Higaunon in Iligan City; the Teduray in Maguindanao, the B’laan in the provinces of Sultan Kudarat, South Cotabato and Davao del Sur; the Bagobo of Davao del Sur; the Tagakaolo of Davao del Sur; the T’boli of South Cotabato; the Manobo of Sultan Kudarat and Maguindanao; the Batak, Tagbanua and Tau’t Bato in Palawan. If we include the non-Muslim segments of the Palawani in Palawan and the Kalagan in Davao del Sur, the total is twelve. The Muslims are only 26.89 percent and the Christian settlers make up the balance of nearly 70 percent.[2]

The MNLF-led Bangsamoro struggle have always touched the Lumad communities in similar ways that the Moro sultanates did. In the time of the sultanates, many of them were subjects and tributaries of the sultanates. Now, in the implementation of the GRP-MNLF Peace Agreement, they are also bound to be affected. While it is true that the autonomous region is designed purposely “for the Muslims of Southern Philippines,”[3] from whose ranks emerged the MNLF that fought the war of liberation,” it cannot be denied that both GRP and MNLF must also acknowledge and make room for 75% of the population, the Lumad and the Christian settlers, respectively, in the life and governance of the autonomy.

As citizens of the region, they are enjoined by law to take part in the plebiscite on the revised organic act. Whether or not they will become part of the autonomous region, the Lumad will continue to coexist with the Muslims. The same goes for the Christian settlers.

The Oil Connection; Government Response to Energy Crisis

At the height of the AFP-MNLF war in October 1973, which we have already discussed in Chapter 1, the Organization of Arab Petroleum Exporting Countries (OAPEC) imposed an oil embargo on all countries supportive of Israel. The realization that the Philippines is almost wholly dependent on two Arab countries for its oil requirements compelled President Marcos to launch an ambitious energy development program designed to harness the country’s natural energy resources, specifically hydro and geothermal power. The search for oil was also done in earnest. The strategic end in view was obviously to increase our domestic energy capability and reduce our dependence on imported oil. But these moves would hit the indigenous peoples where it hurts most. These meant further displacement of the latter in their own lands.

In the Cordillera, the government launched, apparently without the benefit of extensive consultation with the people on the Chico River Dam project, and drew probably the biggest opposition ever to a government development project. In Mindanaw, the government implemented a series of power generation projects in quick succession. The massive hydroelectric plants Agus I to VII along the length of Agus river from Marawi City to Iligan City was probably the biggest with their combined capacity of 944 megawatts. The six dams along the Pulangi (river) which flows from Bukidnon to Cotabato City generate a total of 1,003 megawatts and service irrigation systems came next. Other smaller projects followed with their combined capacity of 714 megawatts. The 22 sites, excluding the geothermal plants, in Mindanaw are expected to generate a total of 3,006 Megawatts. The biggest sources of geothermal energy is Mt. Apo, calculated to sustain 170 wells that will provide steam to four power plants and turn out 220 megawatts of electricity.[4] The latter attracted enormous opposition from the Lumad inhabitants around the mountain which in their belief and tradition is as sacred as a cathedral is to Catholics. Today, as a result of these successful tapping of hydro, geothermal and other local energy resources, we are told that the country’s dependence on foreign oil has been reduced by at least 43 percent.[5] If properly substantiated, the most recent discovery of additional gas reserves as well as oil in commercial quantities at the Camago-Malampaya deep-water gas field off Palawan could provide, President Estrada said, another 15 percent of the country’s oil needs.[6]

Requirements of Development

Industrialization is inevitable and strategic for the development of Mindanaw. It is possible only with a continuous flow of electrical energy. From the sources of energy to the distribution of electricity, we can feel a very intimate interconnection between the peace process and the economic development.

Water, the source of power that turns the giant generators are dependent on the integrity of the watersheds. Keeping watersheds alive require the nurturing care of people, people who share a common desire to keep the water flowing for the common welfare.

The most strategic watersheds are located in the lands of the Moro inhabitants and the Lumad communities. This is accentuated by the current reality that our primary forest cover is down to 18.3 percent, far below the minimum required for a sound and sustainable ecology. This brings into sharp focus the fundamental necessity of reforestation. Maintaining the watersheds and undertaking forest regeneration activities will mean not only preserving the water resources in all lakes and major river systems, it will also provide a sustained supply of water for agriculture, another strategic component of Mindanaw economic development. The best illustrations of the latter are the cases of the Agusan and Cotabato river basins. Sustained effort from a diverse population will only be possible if they are unified by a common dream.

What this all boils down to is that peace in Moroland is as vital a component as a requirement for the restoration and preservation of the watershed areas that will, in turn, assure us of the continuous flow of electricity. This for its part will fuel the industries. The cycle can continue ad infinitum.

The interests of Moro and Lumad communities that are mostly occupying watershed areas, too, where they have been driven to by population movements from the lowlands in the last 100 years, cannot be detached from the interests of lowland rice farmers who are dependent on irrigation systems, which are in turn dependent on water flowing from these watershed areas.

The cycle we have presented here may not be complete but the concept suggests that we view Mindanaw peace and development as an organic whole, not in separate little pieces.

This brings us to the Tri-people approach.

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. A peace specialist, Rudy Buhay Rodil is an active Mindanao historian and peace advocate)

TOMORROW: The Tri-People Approach: Citizens’ Participation in Creating a Culture of Peace 

[1]Status Of Implementation Of The 1996 GRP-MNLF Peace Agreement (as of March 2000). Office Of The Presidential Adviser On The Peace Process. p. 1.

[2] Taken from Table 10. Household Population by Mother tongue, Sex and City/Municipality, 1990 Census of Population and Housing, Republic of the Philippines, National Statistics Office, Manila, June 1992.

[3] Tripoli Agreement, Second paragraph.

[4] Struggle Against Development Aggression, A Tabak Publication (Quezon City: 1990), pp. 39-43.

[5] Manila Bulletin, 10 March 2000.

[6] Philippine Daily Inquirer, 6 May 2000

Done in 1992 at Iligan City, published initially as two versions. First as the abbreviated edition published by The Minority Rights Group, London entitled The Lumad and Moro of Mindanaw, July 1993. The Philippine edition carrying the full draft was printed by AFRIM in Davao City 1994. This was later updated in 2003, summarized in an epilogue. This is the third revision, now with an expanded Epilogue.

Part 1

THE INDIGENOUS PEOPLES IN THE PHILIPPINES: An Overview

The indigenous peoples in the Philippines, now also known officially as indigenous cultural communities (ICC), are said to constitute ten per cent of the estimated total national population of 60 million, per Census 1990. They are more popularly referred to as cultural minorities.

Once the masters of their own lives, now the majority of them are poor and landless. In the old days, many of them lived in the plains. But as a result of population pressures and resettlement programs from among the majority, they have moved to the forest areas. Now, their forests are devastated and their cultures are threatened.

And so, they have learned to fight for survival. Their voices reverberate from north to South, from the Cordillera to the Lumads to the Muslims (or Bangsamoro) of Mindanaw and Sulu.

They demand recognition of their right to self-determination; they demand respect for and protection of their ancestral domains, of their cultures, of their very lives. Within the last twenty years, one group after another of the ICCs have launched their struggles for self-determination, upholding as the most crucial issue their fundamental human right to their ancestral domain.

Interpretation on the meaning of “self-determination” differs. The Moro National Liberation Front consistently takes it to mean independence for the Bangsamoro from the clutches of what they regard as Filipino colonialism, although its leaders agreed to reduce this to regional autonomy in the Tripoli agreement of December 1976.

Advocates in the Cordillera and among the Lumad, however, emphasize their demand for genuine autonomy. But what they all have in common is the conscious realization that their collective happiness must come principally from their own efforts, not from the State.

Who are the Indigenous Cultural Communities?

Created in 1957, the Commission on National Integration (CNI) made an official listing of the National Cultural Minorities (NCM). Note in the Table I below that Luzon and the Visayas have 19 groups, and Mindanaw has 27, which can be further subdivided into 10 Moro and 17 Lumad [for the origin of the name “Lumad”, see Chapter 2]. In the 1960 census, four years after the establishment of the CNI, the NCMs numbered 2,887,526 or approximately ten percent of the national population. The matter of names and number is not a settled issue in the Philippines, which will explain the existence of such names as Kulaman in Mindanaw, which is just another denomination for Manobo in that part of Davao del Sur and two other places in Cotabato called Kulaman, and the addition of more later on. The census itself has never been consistent in its denominations.

Table 1

CNI Official Listing of National Cultural Minorities

It is generally known that the Bangsamoro people are made up of 13 ethno-linguistic groups. An explanation is in order why the above list shows only ten. Two of these groups are to be found in Palawan, namely, the Panimusa and the Molbog (Melebugnon or Molbuganon). A third, the Kalagan in Davao del Sur are partly Muslim and partly non-Muslim. The Panimusa, too, are partly Muslim and partly not. Finally, the Badjaw (they prefer Sama Dilaut) are generally not Muslims but because of their identification within the realm of the ancient Sulu sultanate, they have often been regarded as part of the Islamic scene in the Sulu archipelago.

The present majority-minority situation is a product of western colonialism that has been carried over to the present. In the time of Spanish colonialism, it was more an unintended product of colonial order. In the time of the Americans, it was the result both of colonial order and colonial design.

When the Republic of the Philippines assumed sovereign authority, the various administrations not only carried over whatever the Americans had left behind, they also institutionalized the status of cultural minority within Philippine society. In this section we seek to retrace our steps and see how the whole process came about. We start with a broad picture of our current linguistic situation.

Current Linguistic Situation

Inhabiting an archipelago of 7,100 islands which are divided into three broad geographic zones called Luzon, Visayas and Mindanaw, the Philippine population is, according to a linguistic expert, linguistically diverse, distributed, conservatively speaking, into between 100 and 150 languages. However, the expert clarifies, “one should not exaggerate this diversity, since the vast majority of the Filipinos at present are speakers of one of the eight `major languages’ — Tagalog, Cebuano, Hiligaynon, Waray, Bikol, Iloko, Kapampangan, and Pangasinan  — while 3 percent of the population comprise the speakers of the rest of these languages — the so-called `minor languages’ — most of whom are pagans or Muslims.”  Of the eight, five, namely, Tagalog, Bikol, Iloko, Kapampangan, and Pangasinan inhabit the Luzon area, and  three, namely,  Cebuano, Hiligaynon and Waray belong to the Visayan region.

The linguistic diversity is not, however, reflected in their skin. Complexion-wise, the majority of the Filipino natives are Malay brown; a much smaller percentage are dark like the Negritos or Aeta of Luzon, the Batak of Palawan and the Mamanwa of Mindanaw.

Linguistic studies have further reduced this diversity with their common conclusion that all Philippine languages “belong to the Austronesian language family”, also known as Malayo-Polynesian. Some of these languages are mutually intelligible, but most are not.

Social Situation at Spanish Contact

Using the situation at the end of the Spanish regime as a frame of reference, the various communities in the Philippine Archipelago may roughly be divided into two broad groupings, those who were colonized, and those who were not.

Those who were colonized generally belong to the barangay communities which composed the eight major groups cited above.

And those who were not may further be subdivided into those who fought and were not subjugated, and those who successfully evaded contact with Spanish forces thereby escaping colonization. Either way they remained free throughout the period of Spanish colonization. The first sub-group consisted of the Muslims of Mindanaw and Sulu and the Igorots of the Cordillera.

The second sub-group were those who are presently known as Tribal Filipinos. By an ironic twist of history it was the unconquered and uncolonized who were later to become the cultural minorities of the twentieth century. But before we go into the broad details of how this happened, let us first look at their social situation at the time of Spanish contact.

We start with the barangays, to be followed by the Muslims, then by those which have been characterized by Dr. William Henry Scott,  a well-known scholar of Philippine history, as the warrior societies, the petty plutocracies and the classless societies.

Tomorrow: The Barangay Communities

(Done in 1992 at Iligan City, published initially as two versions. First as the abbreviated edition published by The Minority Rights Group, London entitled The Lumad and Moro of Mindanaw, July 1993. The Philippine edition carrying the full draft was printed by AFRIM in Davao City, 1994. This was later updated in 2003, summarized in an epilogue. This is the third revision, now with an expanded epilogue.)

6th of 16 parts

Chapter 2 Part VI First Foreign Intrusion: The Spanish Challenge

The Spanish colonizers represented the first serious challenge to Moro dominance not only in Mindanaw but also in the entire archipelago. Armed clashes between them begun from the very first year of Spanish presence in 1565. The Moros contested their colonial ambition up to 1898. Part of the overall Spanish strategy in Mindanaw was to establish bases there, especially in areas where Moro influence was weakest. Mainly through missionary efforts, Spain succeeded as early as the first half of the 17th century in establishing footholds in the eastern, northern and western parts of Mindanaw.

The total number of Christians, 191,493 in 1892 who were largely converts from the indigenous population, represent the success of the Spanish in putting a large portion of Mindanaw within their jurisdiction. Did this affect the state of indigenous occupancy?

In a very real sense, no. The visible change was in the expansion of Spanish state domain and the contraction of Moro, either Magindanaw or Sulu, sultanate jurisdiction. Needless to say, this formed part of the Spanish basis for claiming the entire archipelago and ceding the same to the United States in 1898.

Resettlement Programs of the Government

The real displacement process started during the American colonial period. Between the years 1903 and 1935, colonial government records estimated between 15,000 and 20,000 Moro dead as a consequence of Moro resistance to the American presence.

Some of the recorded battles in Sulu, particularly the battles of Bud Dajo in 1906 and Bud Bagsak in 1912 were actual massacres, one-sided battles that they were.

Next to the actual destruction of the lives of the people, it can be said that as great a damage, if not more, was done by the resettlement programs.

These wreaked havoc on the Lumad and Moro ancestral domains in such an unprecedented scale that they literally overturned the lives of the indigenous peoples. A broad account will show that the government, colonial or otherwise, must somehow bear the responsibility for this turn of events.

Initiated by the American colonial government as early as l9l3, it was sustained and intensified during the Commonwealth period, and picked up momentum in the post-World War II years. Altogether, there were a number of resettlement programs.

Severe drought in Sulu and Zamboanga and grasshopper infestation in Davao in 1911-1912 adversely affected rice supply in the Moro Province and this gave General John Pershing, who was then Governor of the Moro Province, the excuse to call “for the importation of homesteaders from the overpopulated Philippine areas.”

The year 1913 saw the passage by the Philippine Commission of Act No. 2254 creating agricultural colonies aimed, officially, at enhancing the rice production effort already started in the Cotabato Valley.

The actual campaign for settlers into the first agricultural colony in the Cotabato Valley started in earnest in Cebu where corn has been the staple food. Knowing the Cebuano weakness for corn, their staple food in Cebu, the American colonial government paraded around Cebu a cornstalk, thirteen feet tall, propped up with a bamboo stick, to convince the people of the fertility and productivity of the soil. But in addition to being farmers, the volunteers had also to be skilled in arnis, an indigenous form of martial arts. Fifty persons responded.

Specific sites selected were Pikit, Silik, Ginatilan, Paidu Pulangi and Pagalungan, the very heart of Magindanaw dominion in the upper Cotabato Valley, and Glan at the southernmost coast of the present South Cotabato province.

In its supposed attempt to integrate the various sectors of the population, distinct population groups were purposely mixed in the colonial sites. In Colony No. 2, for example, composed of Manaulanan, Pamalian, Silik, Tapodok and Langayen, Cebuano settlers and Maguindanaw natives lived together. Strangely, the settlers were allotted 16 hectares each while the Maguindanawon were given only eight hectares each.

The government provided initial capital and some farm tools on loan basis. They were also assured of eventually owning homesteads.

There were American soldiers married to Filipinas who did not wish to return to the United States. They were provided for through Act 2280 with the opening the following year of the Momungan Agricultural Colony in what is now Balo-i, Lanao del Norte. There were signs that this project ultimately failed when in 1927 the governor opened the area for sale or lease to anyone under the terms of the Public Land Act.

Unable to further finance the opening of more colonies, the Manila government passed Act 2206 in 1919 which authorized Provincial Boards to manage colonies themselves at their expense. Lamitan in Basilan was thus opened by the Zamboanga province, Tawi-Tawi by Sulu, Marilog by Bukidnon, and Salunayan and Maganoy by Cotabato between 1919 and 1926.

No significant government resettlements were organized until 1935. Settlers nevertheless migrated either on their own or through the Inter-island Migration Division of the Bureau of Labor. As a result, aside from already existing settlement areas like that in the Cotabato Valley, or in Lamitan in Basilan and Labangan in Zamboanga del Sur, and Momungan in Lanao, we also see several in Davao, specifically in the towns of Kapalong, Guianga, Tagum, Lupon and Baganga; also, in Cabadbaran, Butuan and Buenavista in Agusan, and Kapatagan Valley in Lanao.

The next big initiative was the Quirino-Recto Colonization Act or Act No. 4197 of 12 February 1935 which aimed at sending settlers into any part of the country but with special reference to Mindanaw, that is, as a solution to the Mindanaw problem, as their peace and order problem with the Moros was called.

But before any implementation could be attempted, the Commonwealth government came into existence and it decided to concentrate on opening inter-provincial roads instead.

The National Land Settlement Administration (NLSA) created by Commonwealth Act No. 441 in 1939 introduced new dimensions into resettlement.

Aside from the usual objectives, there was the item providing military trainees an opportunity to own farms upon completion of their military training. The Japanese menace was strongly felt in the Philippines at this time and this particular offer was an attempt by the government to strengthen national security.

Under the NLSA, three major resettlement areas were opened in the country: Mallig Plains in Isabela, and two in Cotabato, namely, Koronadal Valley made up of Lagao, Tupi, Marbel and Polomolok and Ala (now spelled Allah) Valley consisting of Banga, Norallah and Surallah. By the time the NLSA was abolished in 1950, a total of 8,300 families had been resettled.

The Rice and Corn Production Administration (RCPA) of 1949 was meant to increase rice and corn production but was also involved in resettlement. It was responsible for opening Buluan in Cotabato, and Maramag and Wao at the Bukidnon-Lanao border.

Before the National Resettlement and Rehabilitation Administration (NARRA) came into existence in 1954, the short-lived Land Settlement Development Administration or LASEDECO took over from NLSA and RCPA. It was able to open Tacurong, Isulan, Bagumbayan, part of Buluan, Sultan sa Barongis and Ampatuan, all in Cotabato.

NARRA administered a total of 23 resettlement areas: nine were in Mindanaw; one in Palawan; five in the Visayas; one in Mindoro; and seven in mainland Luzon.

A product of the Land Reform Code, Land Authority took over from NARRA in 1963. For the first time, resettlement became a part of the land reform program. The creation of the Department of Agrarian Reform in 1971 also brought about the existence of the Bureau of Resettlement whose function was to implement the program of resettlement.

Moreover, the Economic Development Corps (EDCOR), a special program of the government to counter the upsurge of the Huk rebellion — a brainchild of Ramon Magsaysay, then Secretary of National Defense under President Elpidio Quirino — must also be mentioned. This program was responsible for opening resettlement areas for surrendered or captured Huks (insurgents) in such areas as Isabela, Quezon, Lanao del Norte, North Cotabato and Maguindanaw. Those in Mindanaw were carved out in the heart of Magindanao and Meranaw ancestral territories.

The formal resettlement programs spawned the spontaneous influx of migrants who came on their own. It is estimated that more people came this way than through organized channels.

To be able to appreciate the process of displacement among the indigenous groups, one can do a comparative study of the population balance in the provinces of Cotabato, Zamboanga, and Bukidnon over several census years.

Population Shifts Resulting From Resettlements

As a result of the heavy influx of settlers from Luzon and the Visayas, the existing balance of population among the indigenous Moro, Lumad and Christian inhabitants underwent serious changes. An examination of the population shifts, based on the censuses of 1918, 1939 and 1970, in the empire province of Cotabato, clearly indicates the process by which the indigenous population gave way to the migrants.

Add to this the cases of Zamboanga and Bukidnon and one will readily see how imbalances in the population led to imbalances in the distribution of political power as well as of cultivable lands and other natural and economic resources. These three give us concrete glimpses into the pattern of events in the entire region. The sole exceptions were those places which did not become resettlement areas.

Cotabato has been the traditional center of the Magindanaw Sultanate. Aside from the Magindanawon, its Moro population also include Iranun and Sangil. It is also the traditional habitat of several Lumad tribes like the Manobo, the Teduray, the Dulangan (Manobo), the Ubo, the T’boli and the Bla-an. It is, at the same time, the focus of very heavy stream of settlers from the north.

As a matter of fact, it was no accident that the American colonial government made it the site of the first agricultural colonies. It had all the markings of a present day counter-insurgency operation which at that time was Moro armed resistance to American rule.

Zamboanga was also the traditional habitat of the Magindanawon where the Sultanate dominated the original Subanen inhabitants, especially in the southern portions. Sama, known as Lutao during the Spanish period, Iranun, Tausug and Subanen converts to Islam known as Kalibugan or Kolibugan composed the other Moro populations. Aside from its indigenous Christian population who were converts during the many years of Spanish missionary effort and the few Chavacanos who were Ternateños brought in from the Moluccas Islands during the 17th century, the bulk of its Christian population came from numerous migrations in the twentieth century.

Bukidnon had been the traditional territory of the Manobo and the Bukidnon (also known as Talaandig and/or Higaunon). Its having been integrated into the special province of Agusan was an affirmation of the dominance of the Lumad population there during the first decade of the twentieth century. Its handful of Bangsamoro population are generally Meranaw to be found in the towns, especially Talakag, bordering Lanao del Sur. The census also registered a heavy inflow of migrants, mostly from the Visayas.

The Case of Cotabato

In 1918, what used to be known as the empire province of Cotabato (now subdivided into Cotabato, South Cotabato, Sarangani, Sultan Kudarat and Maguindanaw) had a total of 171,978 inhabitants distributed in 36 municipalities and municipal districts. The 1939 census registered a total population of 298,935 distributed in 33 towns.

And, finally, the 1970 figures showed a total population of 1,602,117. The fantastic leaps in population increase cannot be explained by natural growth, only by the rapidity of the migration process. How did this affect the balance of population?

In 1918, the Muslims were the majority in 20 towns, the Lumad in 5, and the migrants in none. Not much change was revealed in the 1939 census; the Muslims continued to be the majority in 20 towns, the Lumad increased to nine as a result of political subdivisions, and the migrants had three. The 1970 figures indicated an unbelievable leap. Now, the Muslims had only 10 towns to their name; not a single one was left to the Lumad — although it showed 31 towns with Lumad population of less than ten per cent, and the migrants now dominated in 38 towns.

The history of population shift in Cotabato was reflected throughout Mindanaw, revealing a pattern consistently unfavorable to the indigenous population. Total Islamized population was placed at 39.29 per cent in 1903; this was down to 20.17 percent in 1975. Lumad population was 22.11 percent in 1903; it fell to 6.86 percent in 1975.

More specifically, what particular areas had Muslim majority? Or Lumad majority? By the census of 1980, the Muslims had only five provinces, and 13 towns in other provinces. And the Lumad had only seven towns.

Role of Big Business in the Displacement Process

Mindanaw teemed with natural wealth. Both American military commanders and government administrators saw this very early in their stay in Mindanaw. No less than Leonard Wood (1903-1906), the first governor of the Moro Province and John Pershing, his successor, acknowledged this. Wood, as a matter of fact, was recorded as having remarked that “it is difficult to imagine a richer country or one out of which more can be made than the island of Mindanaw.”

Both officials tried to influence amendments to the existing land laws in order to induce investors into the region. The American dominated Zamboanga Chamber of Commerce tried, not once but twice, “to have Mindanaw and the adjacent islands become a territory of the United States.”

In 1926, a U.S. Congressman introduced a bill seeking the separation of Mindanaw and Sulu from the rest of the Philippines. This was part of a larger effort to transform the region into a huge rubber plantation. The great number of investors in Davao, both individual and corporate planters, the most famous of which being the Japanese corporations which transformed Davao into an abaca province represent the most visible example of large scale efforts during the colonial period to cash in on the region’s natural resources.

During the post-World War era, timber concessions may have delivered the penultimate blow to the already precarious indigenous hold over their ancestral territory. Logging became widespread in the region in the early 1960s. As a result of resettlement, indigenous populations naturally receded from their habitat in the plains upward into the forest areas. Logging caught up with them there, too. In 1979 alone, there were 164 logging concessionaires, mostly corporate, in Mindanaw with a total concession area of 5,029,340 hectares, virtually leaving no room in the forest for the tribal peoples.

It should be pointed out that the region’s total commercial forest was estimated to be 3.92 million hectares! To ensure smooth operations, logging companies were known to have hired indigenous datus as chief forest concession guards.

Pasture lands covered also by 25-year leases come as a poor second to logging with 296 lessees in 1972-73 for a total of 179,011.6 hectares.

How have these affected the indigenous peoples? No less than the Philippine Constabulary Chief Brigadier General Eduardo Garcia reported to the 1971 Senate Committee investigating the deteriorating peace and order conditions in Cotabato that the “grant of forest concessions without previous provisions or measures undertaken to protect the rights of cultural minorities and other inhabitants within the forest concession areas is one of the principal causes of dissatisfaction among the cultural minorities.”

A Magindanawon datu from Cotabato, Congressman Salipada Pendatun, cited the same government failure to “provide precautionary measures in the grant of concessions and pasture leases as contributory to the problem.”

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. A peace specialist, Rudy Buhay Rodil is an active Mindanao historian and peace advocate.)

Tomorrow: (Part VII) Contradiction Between Government Development Projects and Indigenous Interests

7th of 16 parts

(Done in 1992 at Iligan City, published initially as two versions. First as the abbreviated edition published by The Minority Rights Group, London entitled The Lumad and Moro of Mindanaw, July 1993. The Philippine edition carrying the full draft was printed by AFRIM in Davao City, 1994. This was later updated in 2003, summarized in an epilogue. This is the third revision, now with an expanded epilogue.)

Part VII Contradiction Between Government Development Projects and Indigenous Interests

As a result of the government’s attempt to reduce the country’s dependence on imported oil, both administrations from President Marcos to Aquino have undertaken energy development projects tapping both water and geothermal resources.

Famous among these projects, made so by determined indigenous opposition to them, were the Chico Dam project in the Cordillera, the Agus Hydroelectric projects along the Agus River in Lanao del Sur and Lanao del Norte, the Pulangi River projects and the Lake Sebu dam project, all of which are located in the heart of the territories of indigenous cultural communities.

And now, there is the Mt. Apo geothermal project.

Consequences Upon the Lumad and the Moro of the State System of Landownership and Land Use

It is important to note here that no Lumad ethno-linguistic group has ever reached the level of a centralized socio-political system such as that attained by the Moro people. At the turn of the century, their communities were mostly clan-size, and they were mostly dependent on swidden farms, hunting and gathering for their livelihood, and not much has changed since.

This would therefore explain the high vulnerability of the Lumad communities to external intrusion. The net effect of successful external intrusions was that individual communities ceased to be masters in their own ancestral lands and of their own lives; they had lost their self-determination. How do they feel about this? Let us hear from them and from the people who have worked with them or have done extensive studies about them.

Recorded in the “Santa Cruz Mission Report” of l973 were these accounts by a Magindanawon and a Bla-an (South Cotabato).

The Magindanawon said: “I want to tell you what I am feeling. Many years ago, the Christians came here to our place. They made many promises and encouraged us to join them, to unite and cooperate with them. They paid money to the Datu and they claimed our land. I hope you can understand. Our lands are all sold or mortgaged to the Christians. Now we do not have any land on which to work.”

The Bla-an added: “I want to tell you about our people as they were before the settlers came. We are the largest number of people then. We lived in the wide plains of Allah and Koronadal Valleys. It is true that we were not educated but then we were happy; we made our own lives, we lived in our own way.

“Then the settlers came, our lives became unhappy. We ran to the mountains because we were afraid of settlers. Even today, the Bla-an people are scared of the government officials. Our lands were taken away because of our ignorance. Now we are suffering. We have been forced to live in the Roxas and General Santos mountain ranges.

“Now we have only a few hectares of flat land to grow our food. And even with this little land, the government is running after us and they tell us that land is not ours. It is the government’s. They say the lands belong to the forestry. They will put us to jail. Truly we do not think that we are part of the government.”

The Senate Committee on National Minorities reported in l963: “Among the provinces visited, the most pressing land problems were reported in the provinces of Davao, Cotabato, Bukidnon and the island of Basilan.

“Natives in these provinces complained that they were being driven away by “influential persons and big companies” who have been awarded rights to lands which have long been occupied and improved by the members of the cultural minorities.”

A Teduray from Nangi, Upi (now North Upi), Maguindanao, had a similar story to tell: “Years ago, our ancestors inhabited the land now called Awang, a few kilometers away from Cotabato City. Settlers came waving in front of them a piece of paper called land title. They (our ancestors) did not understand it. Like most of us now, they were illiterate. But they did not want trouble and the mountains were still vast and unoccupied.

“And so, they fled up, bringing their families along and leaving precious and sacred roots behind… We have nowhere else to go now. The time has come for us to stop running and assert our land right to the legacy of our ancestors. If they want land titles, we will apply for it. Since we are illiterate, God knows how we will do it. That is why we are trying our best to learn many things around us. By then, we will no longer be deceived and lowland Christians can be stopped from further encroaching on our land.”

Dr. Stuart Schlegel who took down this account made additional observations: “The Teduray’s accommodation of the increasing number of lowlanders from elsewhere, the settlers’ acquisition of the ancestral lands, as well as the entry of logging corporations in the area were the beginning of the loss of Teduray lands, and eventually, the loss of their livelihood. When the settlers came, they only cultivated a parcel of Teduray land. Today, the Teduray can only cultivate a small portion of the settlers’ lands.

“Since most of the farm lands are now owned by the settlers, the landless Teduray hire themselves as tenants of the lands…”

Dr. E. Arsenio Manuel who did extensive work on the people he called Manuvu’ shared his equally revealing observations: “Just at the time that the Manuvu’ people were achieving tribal consciousness and unity (late 50’s), other forces were at work that were going to shape their destiny. These outside forces can be identified as coming from three sources: the government, private organizations and individuals.

“The pressure from the City Government of Davao to bring people under its wings is much felt in its tax collecting activities, and threats from the police. Private organizations, mainly logging companies, ranchers, and religious groups are penetrating deep into the interior since after the l950’s.

“With the construction of loggers’ roads, the opening up of central Mindanaw to settlement has come to pass. Christian land-seekers and adventurers have come from three directions: from the north on the Bukidnon side, from the west on the Cotabato side, and from the south on the Davao and Cotabato side….”

Zeroing in on the effects of government laws, Dr. Manuel continues: “Actual abridgement of customary practices has come from another direction, the national laws. The cutting of trees so necessary in making a clearing is against forestry laws, the enforcement of which is performed by forest rangers or guards. Logging companies, to protect their interests have taken the initiative of employing guards who are deputized to enforce the forest laws. So enforcement of the same runs counter to native practices so basic to the economy system of the Manuvu’. The datus are helpless in this respect.”

Many  Christian land-seekers who usually followed the path  of the loggers purchased tribal lands for a pittance. The datus, even if they were able to control the membership of barrio councils in their areas, could do nothing to annul such sales which normally were contrary to tribal laws.

Tribal land is not the only casualty in the displacement process. Even native ways, laws and institutions tend to be replaced by new ones.

The Moro fared only slightly better than the Lumad in that they were able to retain more territory in their hands by comparison. But as the figures will indicate, they, too, despite longer experience in centralized leadership, lost substantial territory.

To sum up, where once the Lumad exercised control over a substantial territorial area encompassed in the present day’s l7 provinces, now they only constitute, according to the l980 census, the majority in only seven municipalities. And where once the Moros had jurisdictional control over an area covered in the present day’s 15 provinces and seven cities, now they are left with only five provinces and 13 municipalities.

Present Status and Gains of the Lumad Struggle

Among the Lumad, much work has been done to influence recent legislations that would benefit them and the cultural communities as a whole. The process has also strengthened people’s organizations.

For the first time in Philippine constitutional history, the l973 Constitution of the Philippines carried  a sympathetic acknowledgment of the unique character of the tribal peoples of the country in a single provision, as follows: “The State shall consider the customs, traditions, beliefs, and interests of national cultural communities in the formulation and implementation of state policies.”

But this provision, however, was more of a concession rather than a genuine recognition of their fundamental group rights. As a matter of fact, a Presidential Decree (no. 410) was issued in l974 purportedly to protect the ancestral lands, yet no implementation took place because no Letter of Implementation was ever issued.

The nation-wide protests against the dictatorship of the Marcos regime affected the Lumad. The reverberations of the bitter Cordillera fight against the Chico dam project was felt in Mindanaw. The T’boli, for instance, had to contend with the Lake Sebu dam project. The Manobos of Bukidnon had to bear the terrible prospects of one day seeing the water overflowing the banks of the Pulangi river into their fields as a result of the Pulangi river dam project in the heart of Bukidnon.

Thus, when President Marcos was thrown out of power and President Corazon Aquino was installed, a Constitutional Commission was created to draft a new democratic Constitution. The various Lumad organizations took active part in the public consultations held during the drafting of the Charter. Lumad-Mindanaw was an active member of the AdHoc Coordinating Body for the Campaign on the Inclusion of National Minority Peoples Rights in the Constitution. When it was established in 1986, it was made up of 78 local and regional Lumad organizations.

It was mainly through their joint initiative, as well as other groups advocating indigenous people’s rights, supported by sympathetic advocates in the Constitutional Commission that the l987 Constitution  incorporated vital provisions directly addressed to the Bangsamoro and tribal communities all over the country.

Two significant sections may be cited here as examples of legal provisions that are considerably closer to that sought by the Lumads representing a radical departure from the aforecited provisions of the Constitution of l973. Article XII, Section 5 of the 1987 Constitution states: “The State, subject to the provisions of this Constitution and national development policies and programs, shall protect the rights of indigenous cultural communities to their ancestral lands to ensure their economic, social and cultural well-being.

“The Congress may provide for the applicability of customary laws governing property rights or relations in determining the ownership and extent of ancestral domain”.

The other provision is Article XIV Education, Science and Technology, Arts, Culture and Sports), Section l7, as follows: “The State shall recognize, respect, and protect the rights of indigenous cultural communities to preserve and develop their cultures, traditions, and institutions. It shall consider these rights in the formulation of national plans and policies.”

For the Teduray group which alone was included in the autonomous region in Muslim Mindanaw, the gains are to be found, for the moment, in the provisions of the Organic Act. For example, the Organic Act for Muslim Mindanaw carries one full article on Ancestral Domain. At the same time, Tribal customary laws shall at last be codified and become part of the law of the land.

The names “Lumad” and “Bangsamoro” have at last been accepted in the legal dictionary of the country. Along with this, an exemption from agrarian reform was granted by the Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Law of l988 (Chapter II, Sec. 9) “to ancestral lands of each indigenous cultural community”.

These gains must, however, be placed within realistic perspective. It is true that they represent a substantial advance from the provision of the 1973 Constitution. But whether or not they can deliver what the indigenous people really want is another matter.

Within the same Charter may be found, for example, a provision that can easily nullify the intention of the state recognition of ancestral lands. Section 2, Article XII (National Economy and Patrimony), clearly states that “all lands of the public domain, waters, minerals, coal, petroleum, and other mineral oils, all forces of potential energy, fisheries, forests or timber, wildlife, flora and fauna, and other natural resources are owned by the State. With the exception of agricultural lands, all other natural resources shall not be alienated.”

This nullifying effect has been concretely illustrated in the definition of ancestral domain and ancestral lands in the Organic Act for the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanaw (Sec. 1, Article XI) where the beautifully packaged definition of ancestral domain in the first part of the paragraph is neatly cut down in the latter part of the same paragraph, just as soon as the State asserts its possessory right.

Tomorrow:The Journey Towards Moro Self-Determination

8th of 16 parts

(Done in 1992 at Iligan City, published initially as two versions. First as the abbreviated edition published by The Minority Rights Group, London entitled The Lumad and Moro of Mindanaw, July 1993. The Philippine edition carrying the full draft was printed by AFRIM in Davao City, 1994. This was later updated in 2003, summarized in an epilogue. This is the third revision, now with an expanded epilogue.)

Part VIII

Chapter 3. THE JOURNEY TOWARDS MORO SELF-DETERMINATION

Aside from their being Muslims, the Moro people are especially proud of two other accomplishments in history. First, long before the Spanish colonizers arrived in the Philippine archipelago, they have enjoyed a high level of centralized social system as exemplified by the Sulu Sultanate which dated back to 1450, and the Magindanaw Sultanate which although born only in 1619 was preceded by the two powerful principalities of Magindanaw and Buayan at the Pulangi valley. And two, by their singular success in maintaining their freedom against repeated Spanish attempts to subjugate them for three hundred thirty-three years.

Triumph of Western Colonialism

But like the rest of the inhabitants of the archipelago, they, too, became victims of the machinations of two colonial powers at the turn of the century. With the signing of the Treaty of Paris, or, with one stroke of the pen, figuratively speaking, all inhabitants of the islands without exception — the Moros no less — became colonial subjects of the United States of America. Subsequent American moves were designed to clear away all forms of opposition to the assertion of American rights of possession and the establishment of American colonial rule. In the case of the Moro people, the direction was towards assimilation with the general body politic which in this instance was oriented around the Filipino identity.

Thus began a radical turn in Moro life which quickly cleared the way for their minoritization. Moro leaders’ recognition and acknowledgement of American sovereignty shifted centers of authority from them to American officials and institutions. Control over land and its disposition became the sole prerogative of the state authority. Private property prevailed over communal ownership, and usufruct lost its institutional base. Police power became the exclusive domain of police institutions, more specifically the Philippine Constabulary.

Moro Resistance

There was widespread armed resistance against the American presence during the first fifteen years, despite compromises by their leaders, notably the Sultan of Sulu, Datu Piang of Maguindanaw and Datu Mandi of Zamboanga. Between 1903 and 1936, Moro lives lost from the fighting were estimated by the Americans to be between 15,000 to 20,000 dead. In the words of an American officer, “no one dreamed that the Constabulary was to engage in hundreds of “cotta” (fort) fights and to quell twenty-six uprisings of sufficient seriousness to be listed as `campaigns’ before it turned over the task of establishing law and order, still uncompleted, to the Philippine Army in 1936.” Most notorious or most famous of the encounters, depending on one’s point of view, were the battles of Bud Dajo and Bud Bagsak in Sulu; the struggle of Datu Ali in Magindanaw, and the Lake town campaigns in Lanao.

American success in arms were effectively balanced with equally determined efforts in civil affairs, more specifically, tapping the datus for key roles in colonial government, educating their children, and exposure programs for the more obstinate datus to make them more cooperative in the more subtle ways.

Datu Participation in Colonial Government

Formerly prime minister to the Sultan of Sulu, Hadji Butu was chosen Special Assistant to the American Governor of the Moro Province in 1904. He was Senator representing Mindanaw and Sulu from 1915 to 1920. Acknowledged as a top leader of the  Maguindanawons in the Cotabato Valley, Datu Piang started his service as third member of the Provincial Board of Cotabato in 1915, then became a member of the House of Representatives in 1916 representing Cotabato. A ranking datu in Lanao, Datu Benito represented Lanao in the same House. Other datus served in various capacities a good number of them starting as third member of their respective provincial boards. These personalities all actively supported the educational program of the Americans.

Education, A Tool of Pacification

American officials never underestimated the efficacy of education as a tool of conquest. A military veteran of the Mindanaw campaigns, Col. Harold H. Elarth, made this observation: “With the older generation held in check by armed force and the younger being trained in these schools, civilization and a semblance of law and order began to spread over Moroland.” General Arthur McArthur who for a while in 1901  headed American troops in the Philippines felt that there was “nothing in the department of administration that can contribute more in behalf of pacification than the immediate institutions of a comprehensive system of education  and saw education as “so closely allied to the exercise of military force in these islands”. Thus, while tapping Moro leaders for important roles in the colonial government, special arrangements were made to enable sons and daughters of these leaders to obtain education.

The case of Sulu was instructive. A girls’ dormitory managed by a Christian Filipino matron and financed by American ladies in New York was established in 1916 in Jolo. This contributed substantially in breaking down Moro prejudice against sending their daughters to school. The pupils were selected from the leading Tausug families, among them Princess Indataas, the daughter of Datu Tambuyong, one of the principal datus of the Sulu Sultanate; Princess Intan, the sister of Datu Tahil. Even then, Datu Tambuyong played safe; he required the American authorities to sign a long document which promised that his daughter would not be allowed to dance or talk with men, among others. The support given by the leading datus certainly made the dormitory a great success. At the same time, it inspired some of the girls to become teachers.

American success among the general Moro population may be gauged from the enrolment figures themselves. In 1900, we are told that “in the Moro areas of Mindanaw some 25 schools were opened the first year with more than 2,000 pupils attending.” In the school at Jolo, very few of the 200 pupils were Moros because their parents suspected that “American schools would try to convert their children from Islam to Christianity.”

Three years after, “52 schools are now in operation in the Moro province… with a total enrollment of 2,114, of which number 1,289 are boys and 825 are girls. One thousand seven hundred and sixty-four of the students enrolled are Christians, 240 are Mohammedans and 110 pagan Bagobos.

In 1906, Act No. 167 (20 June 1906) on compulsory education for children of school age, not less than 7 and not older than 13, was implemented in the Moro Province.

In 1913, 1,825 Moros and 525 pagans were enrolled in the public schools of the Moro Province. In 1918 the enrollment of the Moros in the five provinces (of Sulu, Zamboanga, Cotabato, Lanao, Davao) had increased to 8,421 and pagan pupils to 3,129.

By 1919 the Director of Public Education boasted that “six of the highest ranking Mohammedan princesses of the Sultanate of Sulu were teaching in the public schools, one of them a niece of the Sultan.”

Exposure Tours

Inviting independent-minded Moro leaders into exposing themselves to “high civilization” was called education trips designed to soften resistance to colonial policy. Usually selected to receive these invitations were Moro datus and other headmen who were loud in their objections to political and or social union with Christian Filipinos. Datu Alamada and Datu Ampatuan of Cotabato were two of those datus who as a result of these trips were transformed into avid supporters of colonial policy. Datu Alamada, in particular, was reportedly insistent in his requests for schools, homestead surveys, and colony organization for his people.

These devices, among others, proved to be most effective in redirecting the proud Moro spirit from active armed resistance to acquiescence. Like all others in the same category throughout the islands, Moro loss is twofold. They lost control of their own destiny and resources. They became a people, neatly labeled, first as wild or non-Christian Tribes in American times, then through R.A. 1888 in 1957 as national cultural minorities who were to be prepared towards eventual integration with the mainstream of the Philippine body politic. They ceased to exercise their right to self-determination. How did they feel about this situation?

Tomorrow:

Part IX: Early Moves Towards Recovery of Self-Determination

14th of 16 parts

Rudy Buhay Rodil

(Done in 1992 at Iligan City, published initially as two versions. First as the abbreviated edition published by The Minority Rights Group, London entitled The Lumad and Moro of Mindanaw, July 1993. The Philippine edition carrying the full draft was printed by AFRIM in Davao City 1994. This was later updated in 2003, summarized in an epilogue. This is the third revision, now with an expanded Epilogue.)

Chapter 6. Prospects for Problem Resolution and Peace

Let us start by asking basic questions. What do the indigenous communities want? The Moro people?  The Lumad? What they seek is that they be recognized as they are, with their distinct cultural identities, with their own traditional territories, and that these are basic to their survival and dignity.

What the Moro People Want

Speaking for the Moro people, the MNLF originally wanted an independent Bangsamoro Republik whose territory shall be the entirety of Mindanaw, the Sulu Archipelago and Palawan or simply Minsupala. 

For reasons not yet so clear, they agreed to modify this to regional autonomy starting with the Tripoli agreement covering only a territory of 13 provinces and nine cities. Due to failure to agree on details, this agreement was never fully consummated.

In another round of negotiation, this time with the Aquino government, the MNLF shifted to full autonomy in the same Minsupala region. The ratification of the 1987 Constitution with its own provisions on regional autonomy got in the way and the talks collapsed again.

This revolutionary organization has consistently rejected the Constitution as the basis for any talks. Presently, there are occasional cries for the implementation of the Tripoli agreement.

Other revolutionary groups, like the Moro Islamic Liberation Front have consistently demanded the implementation of the Tripoli agreement. The MNLF allegedly keeps trying to get full membership status at the Organization of Islamic Conference. The MILF has consistently advocated implementation of the Tripoli agreement.

And the MNLF-Reformist Group has apparently shifted to purely parliamentary activities; its leader was appointed director of the Office of Muslim Affairs in the Aquino government and he continues to serve in the government service. 

In the meantime, the constitutionally created Autonomous Region for Muslim Mindanaw is in place in the four provinces of Maguindanao, Lanao del Sur, Sulu and Tawi-Tawi.

But what is to be  done with thousands of other Muslims outside the autonomous region?

What the Lumads Desire

Through Lumad Mindanaw, the Lumads have said that they want the government to recognize their ancestral lands. They desire genuine self-determination within the territorial integrity and under the sovereignty of the Republic of the Philippines. They prefer self-government within their ancestral lands, in accordance with their customary laws. What concrete form this will take within the government structure, however, remains to be seen.

They have their immediate concerns, too. They want the return of all lands taken from them through deceit, harassment, illegal manipulations, or simply grabbed. Also, lands within tribal territories which have been mortgaged, confiscated and declared public lands because of loans for commercial trees like falcatta, rubber and ipil-ipil.

They want the government to revoke permits secured by individuals and companies operating logging, mining, pastures, rattan gathering and other agri-based industries within tribal territories. They may operate within areas of ancestral domain only with the permission of individual tribes through their legitimate organizations.

The migration of settlers into the ancestral domain of the tribal people must be controlled.

Having seen their indigenous culture laughed at by those of the majority, having observed how their children’s indigenous culture has been eroded year after year within the school system, they also feel the need to keep alive and uphold their own dances, songs, material culture, history, and their own system of workshop, and healing the sick. 

These, many of them believe, should be learned, respected and taught as part of the DECS (Department of Education and Sports). This way their children will be educated and still remain indigenous in identity.

The government should disband paramilitary units and stop militarization in Lumad territories. Stop giving support to fanatic groups which have caused our dispersal. Halt recruitment of Lumads into paramilitary units. Stop the incorrect application of the Lumad pangayaw (revenge raids).

The government should cease recognizing fake Lumad organizations and fake datus which have become standard practice not only to foil or diffuse legitimate Lumad aspirations but also to advance selfish interests among government officials and their influential friends, not the least of which being the acquisition of Lumad ancestral lands.

Lessons From the Past

There are at least two sides to the problem, the government and the indigenous cultural communities. And for this reason, both sides must also be responsible for the solution.

What lessons can be drawn from the Lumad and Moro experiences? 

First, there is no concealing  the fact that it was and has been the machinery of the state that has been responsible for the minoritization of the indigenous peoples. There is no need to harp on whether said machinery of state was colonial or otherwise. The reality is that the policies and laws which brought misfortune to the indigenous communities were initiated indeed by the colonizers, first by the Spaniards and then by the Americans. But the greater misfortune is that the Philippine government continued the same policies and laws which multiplied ICC misfortunes. And now that the western colonizers are gone, only the Philippine government is left to resolve mountains of accumulated  problems.

Second, there is also no denying that the weaknesses manifest in these communities made them fair game for the so-called majority, highly vulnerable, easily manipulable. Indigenous communities have their own numerous documented accounts of how they were deceived into parting with their lands.

Third, there were not lacking those elements of the majority who had no scruples pursuing selfish gains at the expense of the former, as there was also a good number of individual members of the ICC who held positions of traditional leadership and broke custom law to dispose of ancestral lands for selfish gain, thus further weakening their own people’s defenses. The more contemporary phenomenon is the emergence of fake datus who are in turn encouraged and supported by government for purposes other than for the benefit of the ICCs. 

Fourth, now,  as a result of all these, the ICCs, especially the Lumad, find themselves at the receiving end, so far, of two distinct but inseparable contradictions, both seemingly irresolvable, the two conflicting systems of property: (a) public domain vs. ancestral land; (b) Western-oriented property law vs. indigenous custom. 

Fifth, now the ICCs must hold on to their respective ancestral lands as they would to their own dear lives for there is so little that is left. Genuine self-determination seems to be the best option. But they have no illusions that this is going to be easy work. Unity within their own ranks have to be improved.

Prospects of Legislative Reforms?

Responsive legislative reforms, especially where it involves the present demands of the Indigenous Cultural Communities, leaves much to be desired. A quick review of some related legislations will illustrate how painfully slow it was for the state machinery to extricate itself from the colonial past.

There is a grave need for a well-studied national policy on the Indigenous peoples. However, despite a number of favorable provisions found in the 1987 Constitution, Congress failed to pass the two bills on ancestral domain. The legislators missed a golden opportunity to break away from the orientation advanced by the Commission on National Integration. This is not an isolated situation.

In the crucial sphere of land laws, provisions affecting the ICCs remained essentially the same from 1903 to contemporary times. It even worsened with the introduction of the 18 percent limit for mountain slopes set by President Marcos classifying those above as forest lands, and therefore inalienable.

It can be said that the root of the present land problem is the Regalian doctrine. It has been at the heart of the Philippine property system since the arrival of the Spanish colonizers to the present — at the expense of indigenous institutions. The natural resource classification has been a sacred provision, carried over from the American-made Philippine Bill of 1902, integrated into the 1935 Constitution, embedded in the 1973 Charter, and is very much a part of the 1987 Basic Law of the land. Forest and mineral lands or lands of the public domain are non-disposable and inalienable. Only agricultural public lands may be privately owned.

The 1987 Constitution in the first paragraph of section 3, Article XII, provides: “Lands of the public domain are classified into agricultural forest or timber, mineral lands, and national parks. Agricultural lands of the public domain may be further classified by law according to the uses to which they may be devoted.

Alienable lands of the public domain shall be limited to agricultural lands.

Private corporations or associations may not hold such alienable lands of the public domain except by lease, for a period not exceeding twenty-five years, renewable for not more than twenty-five years, and not to exceed one thousand hectares in area.

Citizens of the Philippines may lease not more than five hundred hectares, or acquire not more than twelve hectares thereof by purchase, homestead or grant.”

“Taking into account the requirements of conservation, ecology, and development, and subject to the requirements of agrarian reform, the Congress shall determine, by law, the size of lands of the public domain which may be acquired, developed, held, or leased and the conditions therefor.”

What happens to the indigenous occupant? He becomes a squatter in his own land. All proceedings under the Public Land Act are based on the assumption that the land is, or at least used to be, part of the public domain. By applying the Public Land Act even to ancestral lands occupied since time immemorial, it is assumed that even these lands are held from the State.

It did not matter that the ownership of the indigenous occupants to their ancestral lands predated the advent of the Republic of the Philippines or even its predecessor the Spanish Regalia, from whom all claims to land are supposed to originate.

Making the Regalian doctrine an even more bitter pill to swallow is the fact that ancestral land has never come under the effective control of Spanish colonial government. “Ownership, therefore, to ancestral land has long been vested and, in most cases, was never interrupted”. 

But under the Regalian doctrine, such claim of original ownership has no legal standing.

In the past, the classification of lands into timber and mineral automatically converted ancestral lands into inalienable public domain.

As if these were not enough, and after they have been driven to the forest areas by the pressure of settlers, the Marcos regime introduced through the Revised Forestry Code and the 1976 Ancestral decree a detail that lands on 18 percent mountain slope are automatically declared forest and, hence, inalienable, and those below the 18 percent slope mark may further be declared as inalienable public land by the mere expedient of declaring them as public reservation areas.

Given the constitutional shield on the Regalian doctrine, it seems certain that any major change in the property system will have to be premised on a constitutional amendment. Until then, what are the prospects of legislative reform? Or of the government recognition of ancestral lands? Much will depend on the state of enlightenment of the next Congress to understand the nature of the problem and manifest political will in favor of the indigenous peoples.

However, the outlook is bright for consolidation activities among the indigenous peoples. There are also other fields of endeavor which do not require legislative action. Intervention from the Executive branch of government will suffice.

It is a well-known fact, for example, that government-approved Social Studies textbooks in Philippine grade schools carry a lot of distortions of facts, or simply omissions on matters related to the Lumads or Moros. If this is immediately remedied, a lot of negative sentiments about them can be eliminated from the minds of young children.

Government-recognition of fake datus which has caused a lot of confusion and demoralization among the people can easily be withdrawn and rectified.

Consolidation of Forces Among the Indigenous Communities

Inner transformation within the ranks of the ICCs has been going on for some time now. The Bangsamoro are visibly the more militant, given their long and extensive experience in centralized activities and in confronting external enemies, but even they must face divisiveness from within.

The split of the MNLF which led to the establishment of other factions like the MILF and the MNLF-Reformist Group are more than eloquent proofs of this.

The Lumad tend to be more gentle. But both are experiencing a fast pace in the awakening process.

Among the Lumad, events unfolded fast from the time of the church-initiated first inter-tribal assembly in 1977, which only had a handful of participants, then churchily called “Tribal Filipinos”, to the founding congress of Lumad Mindanaw in 1986.  Lumad-Mindanaw was constituted by a coalition of, initially, 78 local and regional all-Lumad organizations. 

The name “Lumad” was born by consensus from the realization of a need by people who discovered from the similarities of their marginalized situation a common cause and a common destiny.

The coalition was born in the context of the Marcos dictatorial regime, in an atmosphere of militarization, human rights violations, poverty, land-grabbing, undue intrusions by multinational corporations, and government neglect. And the aspiration and struggle for self-determination was seen both as a desirable process and an ultimate goal.

Processes in their assemblies followed traditional custom. Sharing and analysis of problems and finding solutions to these were consciously consultative, participatory, and consensus oriented. No one is left out. And growth in consciousness is more or less even.

In the recent past, too, a good number of support groups emerged to help the Lumad out in their struggle, the most active being KADUMA-Lumad. Their number have also multiplied. More public forums like the Second Ancestral Land Congress where public officials were deliberately invited can be held.

Their local and regional organizations, but more especially Lumad Mindanaw itself, will play significant roles in pressuring government to recognize their ancestral lands, or in bringing about the acceptable resolution of the contradiction between public domain and ancestral land. At the same time, similar experiences of the Moro peoples somehow point towards the same directions.

Undoubtedly, it is not easy at this point to gauge how the MNLF or the MILF will move forward in its struggle. At present the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanaw is in place. The revolutionary organizations seem to be inactive but MNLF leaders are reported every year  to be following up their application for membership in the Organization of Islamic Conference. There is occasional cry for the implementation of the Tripoli agreement but there continues a search for political processes that can truly respond to their legitimate demand for a more genuine autonomy.

Meanwhile, the indigenous peoples in Mindanaw pursue their quest for an authentic peace — where sustainable development takes place as a social process, initiated, activated and sustained by themselves, the very people who seek it. It can be the process of self-government initiated, activated and sustained by the people themselves in accordance with customary laws and with due respect a corded their ancestral lands.

Indeed, it will take time. As their struggles have taken much time. But the Bangsamoro and the Lumads of Mindanaw have long exhibited incomparable patience and  tenacity and there is no reason why these virtues will not serve them well until they obtain their just due: a life of peace and prosperity.

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. A peace specialist, Rudy Buhay Rodil is an active Mindanao historian and peace advocate.)

Tomorrow: Part XV: Selected Bibliography

16 of 16 parts
Epilogue 1

(Done in 1992 at Iligan City, published initially as two versions. First as the abbreviated edition published by The Minority Rights Group, London entitled The Lumad and Moro of Mindanaw, July 1993. The Philippine edition carrying the full draft was printed by AFRIM in Davao City 1994. This was later updated in 2003, summarized in an epilogue. This is the third revision, now with an expanded Epilogue.)

Part XVI. Updated Epilogue-I

In the Bangsamoro front. 

The first big event was the signing of the Final Peace Agreement between the GRP and the MNLF on September 2, 1996. After nearly five years of intensive negotiations both in Jakarta and in the Philippines, from exploratory to talks proper,  the GRP and the MNLF finally came to terms on the implementation of the 20-year old Tripoli Agreement of 1976. The two parties agreed to have a transition mechanism called Southern Philippines Council for Peace and Development (SPCPD) while the amendment of the Organic Act of the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (ARMM) was being processed through Congress, and 7,500 MNLF combatants were to be integrated into the government, 5,750 into the Armed Forces of the Philippines and 1,750 into the Philippine National Police.

The implementation was a bit stormy in certain places but the tempest blew over in time. An uproar, mainly from the Christian population, was generated by the transition mechanism called the Southern Philippines Council for Peace and Development but when the opposing population realized that their interest was not really compromised, they simmered down.  MNLF Chairman Nur Misuari who refused to vacate his seat as ARMM Governor for reasons not yet fully clear up to now led an abortive rebellion, escaped to Malaysia, was arrested there by the Malaysian government and handed over to the Philippine government. He subsequently landed in jail; he is still there as of this writing. The Organic Act became a law in 2001; a plebiscite was held in August 2001 and Basilan and Marawi City became the new additions to the territory of the ARMM, and a new batch of ARMM officials was elected into office.   By the first quarter of 2003, the last batch of the 7,500 MNLF combatants who were trained and integrated into the Armed Forces of the Philippines and the Philippine National Police was deemed completed.

The second big event was the all-out war against the MILF declared by President Joseph Estrada. Negotiations with the MILF followed immediately after the signing of the Peace Agreement in 1996 but this was marred by several major encounters between the MILF forces and the AFP, until finally, in March 2000, after the military re-captured the town hall of Kauswagan, Lanao del Norte from the MILF, President Estrada thought it best to declare an all-out war against the former. A full-scale war raged for more than three months, leading to the military capture of 46 MILF camps.  More than one million residents, Muslims, Lumad and Christian inhabitants were dislocated. MILF forces  may have suffered humiliation but remained basically intact. Estrada has been impeached, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo took over as the new president, the peace talks have inched forward a little with two major agreements on security and rehabilitation but is far from done. Ancestral Domain, a critical item in the agenda, has yet to be discussed.  A new round of fighting broke out in February 2003 which spilled over as far as Lanao del Norte.  Meanwhile,  Salamat Hashim  had passed away in July 2003, and Vice Chairman for Military Affairs Al Haj Murad Ebrahim has assumed the chairmanship of the organization. There is a lull in the fighting.  A resumption of  negotiation was scheduled for the first week of October but it is now December and there is no concrete indication that a date has been  fixed. The presidential election is only a few months away. Doubts have been expressed from the MILF end, albeit unofficial, that a peace agreement would be signed  with the Arroyo administration. This is where things stand at the moment.

In the Lumad front

The third big event was the enactment into law of the Indigenous Peoples Rights Act (IPRA) in October 1997. This is the first law in the 20^th century that reversed the effects of PCA 718 of April 1903 which, as we will recall, declared as void all land grants made by traditional leaders, if done without consent from government. With IPRA, ancestral lands may be titled.

Prior to the enactment of IPRA, the government already initiated positive efforts towards providing security to ancestral domain claims of the Indigenous Peoples. It is a bit late in coming, still short of what the Indigenous Peoples really want, but it is definitely a step forward. It started with DAO 2 (short for Department Administrative Order No. 2) issued by the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) in January 1993. Its title is self-explanatory: Rules and Regulations for the Identification, Delineation and Recognition of Ancestral Land and Domain Claims.  After complying with the procedures, claimants would be awarded a certificate of ancestral domain claim.

Since that time up to June 6, 1998, a total of 181 Certificates of Ancestral Domain Claims (CADC) have been issued totaling 2,546,036 hectares, nearly 500,000 hectares shy of the three million hectares originally targeted by the Order for its five-year effectivity.

Of the total of 85 CADCs that have been issued to the Indigenous Peoples of Mindanao,  the largest is the Matigsalug Manobo claim with an area of  77,143 hectares.  .

With the enactment of IPRA, authority to issue titles, not just certificates to ancestral domain claims have been turned over to the National Commission on Indigenous People (NCIP). Not too long ago, President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo awarded Certificates of Ancestral Domain Title (CADT), granted through the NCIP,  to three indigenous tribes in Mindanao during the culmination of the two-day Mindanao Indigenous Peoples congress on October 30, 2003. These are  the Matigsalug-Manobo from the municipalities of Kitaotao, Kibawe, and Quezon in Bukidnon; Talaandig from  Talakag, Bukidnon; and Arumanen-Manobo from the municipalities of Carmen,  Aleosan, Alamada, and Libungan, in Cotabato.

The fourth significant event was the Mindanao Indigenous Peoples Peace Forum organized by Panagtagbo at Camp Alano, Toril, Davao City on 17-19 January 2001. This assembly issued a manifesto (See full text in Appendix N ) which made several important assertions, one of them being a reiteration of their desire for self-governance within their respective ancestral domains in accordance with their customary laws, and the other – and this is new – the creation of their own autonomous region, apart from the ARMM. For the first time, too, Panagtagbo succeeded in getting the Lumad position heard in the GRP Panel that is conducting peace talks with the MILF through the membership of Datu Al Saliling as member of the Technical Working Group on Ancestral Domain. They had wanted full panel membership but only a seat in the working group was available. They have also been able not only to present their position to the MILF but also to conduct dialogues with local units of the MILF to remind them of traditional pacts – called dyandi and pakang — with Maguindanao Moro leaders in the past with respect to ancestral domain boundaries. This mode of assertion of Lumad rights is unprecedented and bears monitoring.

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. A peace specialist, Rudy Buhay Rodil is an active Mindanao historian and peace advocate)

TOMORROW: Update Epilogue II A Mindanao Historian’s Views; Quick Recalls on the Basic Issues of the GRP-MILF Peace Process

16 of 16 parts
Epilogue 3

(Done in 1992 at Iligan City, published initially as two versions. First as the abbreviated edition published by The Minority Rights Group, London entitled The Lumad and Moro of Mindanaw, July 1993. The Philippine edition carrying the full draft was printed by AFRIM in Davao City 1994. This was later updated in 2003, summarized in an epilogue. This is the third revision, now with an expanded Epilogue.)

Part XVIII

Update 2020 Epilogue – III: Panagtagbo A  One Big Event 2004 to 2020

BARMM is historic!

Not only for Bangsamoro.

Also for Mindanaw-Sulu

Definitely for the Republic of the Philippines.

After seven presidents (Ferdinand Marcos, Cory Aquino, Fidel Ramos, Joseph Estrada, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, Benigno “Pnoy” Aquino, Digong Duterte – still in place)…

After 19 Government Negotiating Panels (from 1975 to 2014) talking with the Bangsamoro Fronts, mainly the MNLF and the MILF…

After the Tripoli Agreement, the Final Peace Agreement, the Comprehensive Agreement on the Bangsamoro unto BARMM (the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao)…

After three decades of experience with the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (ARMM)…

Viewing the quick sequences of Ten Decisions in April 2012,  Framework Agreement in October 2012, then Comprehensive Agreement on the Bangsamoro  in 2014. Finally, the BARMM in 2018, … ratified in a plebiscite on 21 January 2019 and 6 February 2019… 

My sensing… as a Mindanawon historian, as part of the negotiation process part of the way… as an advocate… the peace talks’ responses to painful conflicts, every step, including backward step and forward step, there are no failures, not even MOA-AD in my experience, the SAF-44 at Mamasapano, Maguindanao… there are always positive learnings. The emergence of our humanity comes at its own time. Call it ripening. Call it realization.

In the 44 years of peace negotiations, 21 years from January 1975 to 2 September 1996;  22 years from January 1997 to 27 March 2014, followed by the Bangsamoro Organic Law  processing by Congress and signed by President Digong Duterte on 27 July 2018, and ratified in a plebiscite on 21 January and 6 February 2019 …  still ongoing … 

It took both parties to agree on what is the problem they were trying to solve. Technically the disagreements were always between the Constitution and the dream of self-determination among the Bangsamoro.  But in reality, there other emotions we try to hold back to give way to rationality. The small pieces, the agreements, step by step, came into place, despite disruptions, including armed engagements, sometimes called impasses.  Then, forward again… and the final agreements.

Feel the global dimensions… recall…The GRP-MNLF was always with the participation of the OIC via the Quadripartite Ministerial Committee, started with four, then expanded to six. Libya and Indonesia played crucial roles. The GRP/GPH-MILF peace talks was always done in Malaysia…. Which expanded with the participation of other states, mainly the International Monitoring Team (IMT) led by Malaysia, followed by Brunei Darussalam,  then Indonesia, Japan, Libya, Norway and the European Union.

Looking Forward via Education

Education is naturally an integral part of the mission of BARMM.  Hitting the creation of the new generation at the heart… This is reflected in the PROPOSED BANGSAMORO EDUCATION CODE (draft as of 18 September 2020, already filed in October 2020 as a bill for deliberation in the parliament) for the establishment of a complete integrated system within the Bangsamoro. It accurately reflects the seeds of the new Bangsamoro Organic Law.

I am particularly touched by the sensitiveness of the leaders…grounded indeed … it is wholistic but there is this conscious focus on the curriculum of the indigenous peoples… and it is being futuristic…

·      operate around indigenous culture, knowledge, systems, and practices existing in the Bangsamoro region… include mental and psychological and environmental contexts of the learners.

·      Language medium. Teaching and learning shall be the mother tongue for Kindergarten and Grade 1 to 3 learners. Primary medium of instruction and learning beginning Grade 4, shall be English…Filipino and mother tongue may also be used

·      Ministry support for the creation of a tribal university system to address the higher educational needs of non-Moro indigenous peoples.

Peace Education

Peace education for all shall also be an integral part of the Basic Education Curriculum of the learners nurturing them in the life of nonviolent culture, social justice, and respect for human rights, freedom, and inclusivity.

Among the Lumad

I was there and felt deeply this event of Re-affirmation of Kinship of the Moro and Indigenous Peoples of Mindanao at Talaandig Ancestral Territory at Tulugan, Sungko, Lantapan, Bukidnon, 7-8 March 2012, participated by delegates from the tri-peoples. I call this another peace process in itself (more indigenous to use the word husay), a panagtagbo, a convergence of those affected by conflict.  This was this message, embossed in bronze, prominently displayed:

KINSHIP COVENANT

The Indigenous Peoples and the Moro of Mindanao hereby acknowledge the following principles and doctrines of Kinship as basis of their cooperation, understanding and unity as descendants of the early inhabitants in the island of Mindanao:

Principle 1. Kilalaha (Mutual Recognition and Respect)

Principle 2. Sayuda (Mutual Sharing of Information)

Principle 3. Buliga (Cooperation)

Principle 4. Uyaga (Mutual Protection & Preservation of Life)

Principle 5. Pabatunbatuna (Mutual Obligation to Help the Needy)

Signed this 8^th day of March 2012 in the heart of the Talaandig Ancestral Territory

at Tulugan, Sungko, Lantapan, Bukidnon.

Now we are ready for a new chapter. Together.

Husay and panagsuon.

Kalinaw Mindanaw!     

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. A peace specialist, Rudy Buhay Rodil is an active Mindanao historian and peace advocate)

TITLE: Mga Lumadnong Sugilanon nga Mahinuklogon
AUTHOR: Melchor M. Morante
Published by Aletheia Printing and Publishing House, Davao City
Virtual book launch on 30 December 2020 at 4 p.m.

KIDAPAWAN CITY (MindaNews / 16 December) —  A genre of its own emerges from Melchor M. Morante’s latest book Mga Lumadnong Sugilanon nga Mahinuklogon, a collection of short stories in Cebuano Bisaya.

Written by an author with decades of experience working with Mindanao’s marginalized communities, these roman-a-clef stories are to date the largest collection of works of what I will hitherto call Historical Injustice Fiction.

These stories – and the literature they end up becoming – are now welcome additions to Mindanao’s collective memory, serving to help address many of this island’s many historical injustices: Landgrabbing, historical and cultural erasure, extrajudicial killings, socioeconomic inequality, and linguistic hegemony all touched in stories casually told as reflective recollections.

Using fiction as a means of documenting and bringing historical injustices into wider public awareness is not new, but with Mga Lumadnong Sugilanon nga Mahinuklogon, a new direction is emerging: specific incidents of atrocities or injustices in Mindanao, specially those not widely known or remaining unrecorded, are portrayed and tackled with the sobriety of literary detachment, such that human insight may be distilled from them, specially for Mindanawon readers.

As I have said in different occasions, the culmination of literary form is impact, and in order to achieve that impact, that form must be scrutinized. Taking at look at how Morante’s stories succeed, and see where they can improve, would also serve to take this emerging genre forward.

We note, first of all, the language, and with just this the stories in this collection already have much impact.

For the longest time, Mindanao’s Fiction in Cebuano Bisaya has been largely monolingual, a result of Bhabhan hybridity of Mindanao’s writers from the ‘standard’ Cebu tradition of the language’s literature, but also a cause by which Mindanao’s own tradition remains so, producing this endless cycle of uprootedness. This is an often ignored dimension to the reality of contemporary Mindanao literature’s longstanding failure to reflect Mindanao’s linguistic realities.  With the more recent works of writers like Jondy Arpilleda (who blurs the lines between Bisaya and Tandagnon) and Macario Tiu (who proudly uses the Tagalog-laced Bisaya of Davao), this remove between literary medium and linguistic reality is slowly being addressed

But Mga Lumadnong Sugilanon nga Mahinuklogon takes this one step further, with the author making it his express aim in the collection’s introduction to show more of Cebuano Bisaya’s increasing hybridization with other languages in Mindanao. With Tagalog, English, and Hiligaynon mixing with Monuvu, Blaan, Subanen, and Dulangan in the Cebuano narrative, this collection’s medium is, to date, the closest any book has come to what Mindanao actually sounds like.

We want more of course, and in many accounts that demand is addressed not to the text, but to the community. Mindanao’s indigenous languages (this collection shows) is not being heard enough in Mindanao, a result of their slow erasure in the wake of policies of linguistic hegemony (the premium put on English, the imposition of Tagalog as a national language, and the emergence of Cebuano as Settler lingua franca resulting from unmediated resettlement). Morante’s stories also succeed by showing how Mindanao’s languages have become subaltern even in Mindanao. We are compelled to do something about it.

Where, perhaps, the collection can improve on the matter of language is with the following of emerging standards of orthography and in being representative of the picture of diversity.

I cannot speak for the other Lumad languages, but for Obo Monuvu (which I am learning), I can point out that it would be ideal if the author follow the orthography for the language developed by tribal leaders in partnership with the Summer Institute of Linguistics. Greetings such as ‘moppiyon sollom’ (which are used in the stories) are increasingly being spelled by the language’s writers following this orthography, which the tribe themselves designed to better reflect their phonology.

The discourse on what orthography to follow is also deeply intertwined with discursive power, and it would be consistent with this collection’s aim – and for Historical Injustice Fiction in general – to spell words in the  language the way the language community itself would like them to be spelled.

Although it is not really the problem of the collection (which is already considerably diverse), it must also be pointed out that the book is still far from representing the sheer multiplicity of tongues in Mindanao, one of the world’s  linguistic diversity hotspots. Not featured in the book are the Moro languages, many Lumad languages, and Settler languages endemic to Mindanao like Chavacano and the Mindanao Tagalogs. But that only means that we hope more works will come out featuring those languages’ confluence with Bisaya.

In terms of form, the stories in the collection often fall short of narrative development. Each story is rich in ethnographical and historical material, with much of those having their own conflicts. But the stories suffer from overreliance on them, and perhaps the author’s own general sense of detachment from the events unfolding. Although it must be quickly pointed out that the author is in no way apathetic, on the contrary there is much sympathy for the conflicts unfolding in each piece from the narrator. Only that it seems that the narrator is too often merely the bystander, and being another level removed from the human experience, the reader can only really eavesdrop into what that bystander is hearing.

The emotional gravity of such situations as the death of the grandson in ‘Lakewood’ and the evacuations recounted in ‘Buklog’ do not come out, in the first case because the narrator (and consequently the reader) has not been shown to have developed any deeper attachment to the dead child, and in the latter case because the reader is not given the opportunity to be in the narrative present of the incident being recounted.

The same is true of the character development of the eponymous ‘Kampo,’ whose change of personality the reader (like the narrator) can only speculate about but do not really full experience.

Balancing the volume of historical and ethnographic material to discuss on the one hand and creating a human conflict at the heart of the story on the other will be a central and recurring challenge to any future writer of Historical Injustice Fiction.

Where I think writers like Morante can move forward on that count is to find a conflict through which the author can add their take on the discourse of the subject matter, the insight they draw from the issue, or perhaps their idea how it could be resolved.

The wealth of material to discuss also makes it very tempting for the writer of Historical Injustice Fiction to dump information that, while of great interest, may be unnecessary to the story and may in fact drag the story down and lose the reader’s interest. This the case in ‘Kampo,’ where the discussions on the religious characters’ work gets more attention than Kampo’s own sudden change in personality.

The introduction of the collection gives full disclosure that the stories are all Roman a Clef, with the names of characters and places changed to respect the privacies of people. But the author is actually inconsistent on this account, as in some stories he renames entire towns (‘Malpet’ for ‘Magpet’ in North Cotabato in ‘Natik Ansaban’ to name one) but in others he even uses the town’s real name, (‘Lakewood,’ for instance).

Altering the names would, I think, only cause unnecessary frustration, specially as many of the incidents being described are in fact publicly verifiable.

The subject of the first story in the collection, ‘Natik Ansaban,’ was particularly easy to identify, specially for a reader like me doing research into Kidapawan history. The Katindu Dispute, which started in the 1960s and was only resolved in the 1990s, involved the Monuvu Ansabu clan, lead by Datu Amasing and Datu Mambiling Ansabu, and the land-grabber Augusto Gana, who became mayor of Kidapawan from 1971 to 1992 (in the story his caricature, Hulyo Alegre, became governor, but in real life his wife Mila Ocampo Gana became a provincial board member, and together they were influential in the province).

‘Satur Neri’ is inspired by the martyred priest Fr Nery Lito Satur, who fought a long crusade against logging in Bukidnon. The displacement of the Subanen resulting from the insurgency in Mt Malindang portrayed in ‘Buklog,’ as well as the exploitation of the burial jars in Sultan Kudarat are all well documented.

But the others whose real details I and other readers are not privy to only cause frustration, as there is a desire built up to learn more about these real incidents, specially considering the author – who has spent decades working with communities – offers a historically important perspective never before heard. This was particularly the case with ‘Kampo,’ whose real location I could not ascertain.

I find that changing the names, specially of places and public figures, would be counterproductive to the project of raising awareness about historical injustices, as for such an endeavor you want to be as informative as you can for all of posterity. There is a sense in this collection that the author understood this in many of the stories, which did not really hide any names.

Outside of form, writers who would attempt to write works of Historical Injustice Fiction must be conscious of the complexities of discourse in Mindanao, and the dynamics of representation and the subaltern.

Which is why there is a need to properly translate this book’s title to English.

‘Lumadnong Sugilanon’ would be simply translated to ‘Lumad Stories’ by less aware editors. But such a translation would create the false impression that these stories are by the Lumad and articulate Lumad worldviews. This, for the Settler author, would be tantamount to Settlerjacking .

This danger is especially true if these stories were handled by anthology editors and literature teachers without nuance (and there are many), and it would only add to the pervading problem of cultural misrepresentation if this collection were not curated properly.

And proper curation is what this collection deserves, as they are very insightful stories about the Lumad (a much better translation of the title!), ones told from a very empowering perspective.

Mga Lumadnong Sugilanon nga Mahinuklogon is a triumph of Settler fiction, because few Settler stories ever portray the Lumad with the same level of respect, admiration, and empathy as much as these stories do. In these stories you see most of all that the Lumad are people, with very human struggles that any reader can relate to.

Even the ignorance of the Lumad is cause for the Settler’s respectful amusement. In ‘Kampo,’ the narrator shares the eponymous Dulangan Manobo character’s excitement to see the sea (which he had never seen up close before). When Kampo wonders if he can use sea water to cook Sinigang, the narrator delights at this fresh way of looking at something he had always taken for granted. Charming moments like these remind us, both of our shared humanity and the many differences we can celebrate.

What make these stories particularly special is how much it reveals – and exemplifies – about the Settler perspective. The narrator is conscious of his Settlerhood, and has the wisdom to be wary of the perils of projecting his own aspirations on the communities he is working with. In these stories, most of the talking actually comes from the perspective of the Lumad characters (either as dialogue or as recounted by the narrator), and the narrator rarely adds his own perspective into the details.  The author being a seasoned community worker, this comes as no surprise. And this is an attitude every Settler, specially the well meaning ones who will endeavour to take up the challenge of writing Historical Injustice Fiction, will need to assume.

It is of course de rigueur for anyone writing about cultural communities to be judicious in the ethnography they depict, because fiction has a way of distorting public understanding of anthropology. This is especially true for works of Historical Injustice Fiction, as cultural distortions are themselves acts of historical injustice (an injustice I think such fictionists as  Erwin Cabucos, Jude Ortega, and the late Antonio Enriquez were often guilty of). The author behind the nom de plume Melchor M. Morante is a seasoned anthropologist, so that rarely poses a problem for this collection.

The Settler author is also rightly candid about the devastating effects of Settlerhood and the poor environmental and economic policies of the colonial Philippine nation-state imagined from Manila on the indigenous cultures of Mindanao. In one story, poorly thought out land titling policies are shown to have led to landgrabbing. In another, the coming of public health institutions are shown to be killing ancient healing traditions (very timely as the national government is now considering recognizing indigenous healers as Preservers of Intangible Cultural Heritage). And yet in another, the Manila-centric and Urban-centric nature of cultural institutions are shown to be the cause of looting of historical and archaeological artefacts.

One of the most poignant scenes in the whole collection is in the story ‘Lakewood,’ when the Manilenya nun casually makes a feminist commentary on the Subanen legend being recounted. Not only is this a demonstration of typical Manilenyo naivety and unwitting cultural imposition, the narrator’s response – that cultures are to be respected if they are to be understood – is wisdom every Mindanawon should aspire to.

But particularly fascinating is how, in these stories, the author offers a glimpse into Mindanawon Catholic attitudes towards the Lumad and their indigenous spirituality. The early days of Christianity in Lumad Mindanao were characterized by coerced conversions and systematic discrimination. In this collection, we see how the Catholic church and its institutions have actually taken a complete u-turn in dealing with indigenous spirituality, one for the better. Instead of dismissing the Lumad spiritual traditions as ‘paganism’ or ‘witchcraft,’ there is often an awed fascination on the part of the narrator, a member of a religious order. This already goes beyond mere tolerance, the author is showing how Mindanao’s Christian Settlers (specially its more mature Catholics) are starting to celebrate the many ways of being human and aspiring towards the Infinite here in Mindanao. This collection, I think, argues quite eloquently how Mindanao should be developed as an important center for theology.

Just the last word in the book’s title, Mahinuklogon, opens up so many possibilities. ‘Paghinuklog’ is conventionally translated to ‘contemplation,’ with a note of ‘repentance,’ and in Settler Bisaya is a term invariably belonging to the semantic field of Kwaresma (the Lenten Season), in other words of religious reflection. And yet it is tantalizingly similar to the Subanen ritual of the Buklog (the title of one of the collection’s stories), and if not a cognate, is certainly evocative of that grand indigenous ceremony. By just that one word, the book’s title serves to subtly remind Mindanawons how much we actually share with one another despite our ethnic and religious differences, and how much we would discover if we only overcame prejudices and try to understand one another.

Mga Lumadnong Sugilanon nga Mahinuklogon is the first literary book to come out from Mindanao since the coming of the global Coronavirus Pandemic (part of the ongoing Cultural boom in Mindanao).

And rightly so: in a time when we are dealing with many deaths and compelled to stay at home to read and reflect, literature that is lived – like these works of Historical Injustice Fiction – becomes more relevant.

Because when you talk about historical injustice, you cannot help but usher in the coming of healing.

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Karlo Antonio Galay David documented five previously unrecorded civilian massacres, the obscure lives of many local historical figures, and the details of dozens of forgotten historical incidents in his hometown of Kidapawan City, North Cotabato, where he is currently working as local historian for the City Government. He has a Masters in Creative Writing from Silliman University, and has won the Don Carlos Palanca and Nick Joaquin Literary Awards. He has seen print in Mindanao, Cebu, Dumaguete, Manila, Hong Kong, and Bangkok)