uncounted lives - Geneva Academy of International Humanitarian

Transcription

UNCOUNTED LIVES:
Children, Women and Conflict
in the Philippines
By
IBON Foundation
In Cooperation With:
Children’s Rehabilitation Center (CRC)
Center for Women’s Resources (CWR)
A Needs Assessment of Children and Women Affected by Armed Conflict
For the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF)
2006
Acronyms
AC
AFP
AoA
AI
ARMM
ASG
BHW
BIAF
BMA
CAA
CAFGU
CARHRIHL
CBCP
CHR
COIN
CPP
CRC
CTM
CVO
CWR
DA
DA
DAR
DENR
DepEd
DILG
DND
DOH
DSWD
DT
EC-CC
FGD
GHQ
GMA
GRP
HDN
HR
HRV
IB
IBP
ID
IDP
IHL
ISO
ITDS
JMC
Karapatan
KII
LCM
LGU
MASSO
MILF
MIM
MNLF
NAPC
Armed conflict
Armed Forces of the Philippines
Agreement on Agriculture
Amnesty International
Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao
Abu Sayyaf Group
Barangay Health Worker
Bangsamoro Islamic Auxiliary Force
Bangsa Moro Army
Civilian Armed Force Geographical Units Active Auxiliary
Civilian Armed Force Geographical Unit
Comprehensive Agreement on Respect for Human Rights
and International Humanitarian Law
Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines
Commission on Human Rights
Counter-insurgency
Communist Party of the Philippines
Children’s Rehabilitation Center
Communist Terrorist Movement
Civilian Volunteers Organization
Center for Women’s Resources
Disciplinary action
Department of Agriculture
Department of Agrarian Reform
Department of Environment and Natural Resources
Department of Education
Department of Interior and Local Government
Department of National Defense
Department of Health
Department of Social Welfare and Development
Dissident terrorist
Executive Committee-Central Committee
Focused Group Discussion
General Headquarters
(President) Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo
Government of the Republic of the Philippines
Human Development Network
Human Rights
Human Rights Violations
Infantry Battalion
Integrated Bar of the Philippines
Infantry Division
Internally displaced persons
International Humanitarian Law
Internal Security Operations
Integrated Territorial Defense Systems
Joint Monitoring Committee
Karapatan-Alliance for the Advancement of Human Rights
Key Informant Interviews
Local Communist Movement
Local Government Unit
Solid Mass Association
Moro Islamic Liberation Front
Moro Independence Movement
Moro National Liberation Front
National Anti-Poverty Commission
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NCR
NDFP
NEDA
NGO
Non-AC
NPA
NSCB
NSO
NUJP
NZAID
OB
OCD
OIC
OPAPP
Oplan
PA
PC
PHDR
PI
PNP
PO
POC
POG
PPW
PCPR
SAF
SCO
SMR
SOT
SPCPD
TNC
UCCP
UN
UNDP
UNICEF
US
WTO
National Capital Region
National Democratic Front of the Philippines
National Economic and Development Authority
Non-Government Organization
Non-armed conflict
New People’s Army
National Statistical Coordination Board
National Statistics Office
National Union of Journalists in the Philippines
New Zealand Agency for International Development
Order of Battle
Office of Civil Defense
Organization of Islamic Countries
Office of the Presidential Assistant on the Peace Process
Operational Plan
Philippine Army
Philippine Constabulary
Philippine Human Development Report
Political Instructor
Philippine National Police
People’s Organization
People’s Organizing Committee
People’s Organizing Group
Protracted People’s War
Promotion of Church People’s Response
Special Action Force
Strategic Counter-Offensive
South Mindanao Region
Special Operations Team
Southern Philippines Council for Peace and Development
Transnational Corporations
United Church of Christ in the Philippines
United Nations
United Nations Development Program
United Nations Children’s Fund
United States
World Trade Organization
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Executive Summary
This study looks into the various ways in which the long-running armed conflicts in the Philippines
have affected children, women and communities in many parts of the countryside. These include not
only direct hazards from actual combat between soldiers of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP)
and fighters of the Communist Party of the Philippines-New People’s Army-National Democratic Front
of the Philippines (CPP-NPA-NDFP), or the Moro Islamic Liberation Front-Bangsamoro Islamic
Auxiliary Force (MILF-BIAF). Of equal relevance are the impacts of short-term or long-term physical
displacement following actual fighting and consequent military pursuit operations, and those arising
from counter-insurgency operations unrelated to any specific incidents of combat but which
nevertheless affect community life. The study also tried to determine whether or not there are relevant
differences in the conditions of children and women in armed conflict areas compared to non- armed
conflict areas.
PART I
1. Methodology
The research team combined primary and secondary data-gathering methods. Primary data-gathering
for the research was conducted in eight (8) communities in eight (8) provinces geographically
dispersed nationwide: Abra and Mindoro Oriental (Luzon); Capiz and Leyte (Visayas); and Surigao del
Sur, Compostela Valley, North Cotabato and Maguindanao (Mindanao).
Four main qualitative research tools were used: focused group discussions (FGDs), life stories, key
informant interviews (KIIs) and participant observation. In each of the eight (8) communities there
were three (3) FGDs for children, women and mixed adults/parents, respectively. The life stories of at
least two (2) children and one (1) woman were also recorded in each area. There were over 50 key
informants formally interviewed, not counting scores of other people spoken to informally while in the
field.
As much as two weeks were spent in each community to maximize opportunities for sustained and
informal interaction and to give the team flexibility to work around the production, domestic and
schooling schedules of the respondents. The research team also exerted special efforts in interacting
with MILF and NPA officials and fighters in the field. The MILF’s Chief Information Officer was also
interviewed and an email questionnaire sent to the CPP’s Executive Committee-Central Committee
(EC-CC).
Quantitative methods in the form of surveys were also conducted. In each province a survey with
purposive sampling of children and women, respectively, was conducted in an armed conflict area with
a corresponding survey of an equivalent control sample in a non-armed conflict area (in the same
province). A second survey covering a short list of basic health and education indicators was also
made, covering children and women patients in small medical missions conducted in each of the areas.
In addition, a survey was made of the recruitment ages of 122 NPA guerrillas encountered by the
research team; a similar effort was not possible in the case of the MILF.
Secondary data-gathering covered data on socioeconomic indicators and human rights violations from
national government, local government and non-government organizations. Data on armed
confrontations relied on IBON’s in-house monitoring which collates reports from various publications
and other sources. Multiple research tools allowed the team to cross-check the validity of information
towards strengthening the study’s overall findings.
A particular contribution of the study arises from the unique and extended access given to the research
team by the CPP-NPA-NDFP to its areas of influence. The research paid special attention to the
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description, interpretation, reflection and commentary of the children and women respondents on their
own circumstances, experiences and aspirations.
The research team did not interview officials and personnel of either the Armed Forces of the
Philippines (AFP) or the Philippine National Police (PNP) as part of its methodology for both practical
and methodological reasons. The practical reason is that the research team saw a security concern with
formally scheduling interviews with representatives of state armed forces in the field. This is
considering the nature of the research and the nature of the communities to be visited especially given
the reputation of hostility of military personnel to “human rights groups”, “fact-finding missions” and
other such research-related activities that inquire into the situation in areas of armed conflict. The
methodological reason is that the research has a very specific focus: to look into the greatly underresearched topic of how armed conflict affected communities, in CPP-NPA-NDFP- and MILF-BIAFinfluenced areas, themselves see what is happening around them.
In any case the research team elicited the views of a very wide range of people. These were primarily
community residents, but also included leaders of local organizations, local government officials,
religious leaders, church workers, NGO workers, human rights activists, teachers and school officials
as well as MILF and NPA officials and fighters. The research does not aspire to capture the universe of
views – even if much diversity has been achieved albeit without state armed forces – and it is expected
that its results will be read against other related studies.
2. Contextualizing Impact: Communities in Situations of Armed Conflict
The Philippine economy remains essentially backward, substantially agricultural and lacking a
domestic industrial base. Poverty remains widespread particularly in the rural areas. The eight study
areas are among the country’s poorest provinces.
Intensity of war
The study covers mainly the period 2001-2005. Armed confrontations between the CPP-NPA-NDFP
and state forces have been increasing since 2003, particularly intensifying in 2005, while those against
the MILF-BIAF (and MNLF/ASG) have been decreasing since 2003. It is relevant that during the
period covered the Government of the Republic of the Philippines (GRP)-NDFP peace talks were
suspended in 2004 while the GRP-MILF talks continued.
•
•
Incidents of fighting with NPA: 90 (2001), 55 (2002), 130 (2003), 157 (2004), 298 (2005)
Incidents of fighting with MILF: 55 (2001), 7 (2002), 82 (2003), 8 (2004), 9 (2005)
IBON monitored 1,061 armed confrontations between the AFP and the various armed groups in the
period 2001-2005, for an average of 0.6 armed confrontations per day. The number of incidents and the
armed groups involved were: 730 (NPA), 161 (MILF), 6 (MNLF), 166 (ASG). Though increasing in
number over the period covered, the fighting was relatively sporadic and scattered considering the
breadth of areas in which these armed groups are present. Less quantifiable, but anecdotally observed,
is the intensification of counter-insurgency operations by the AFP.
There were 343 civilian casualties (199 killed, 144 wounded) during armed encounters in the period
2001-2005.1 The ratio of civilian casualties to armed confrontations was lowest in the case of the NPA
(1:8) followed by the MILF (1:5), MNLF (1:2) and ASG (1:1). Likewise, the ratio of civilian to
combatant casualties is lowest in the case of the NPA (1:28) followed by the MILF (1:11), MNLF (1:5)
and ASG (1:8).
There were 195 armed confrontations in the eight provinces covered by the study, with some 50
civilian direct casualties.
The study found evidence to conclude that a significant factor underlying the differential impact of
armed conflict on both the vulnerabilities and capacities of communities is whether guerrilla or
positional wars are being waged.
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The study team also came across many firsthand accounts of a wide range of non-military activities
particularly of the NPA. These included small-scale health, education, cultural and socioeconomic
projects, and arbitration in intra-community conflicts.
The experience of Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) covered by the study has varied mainly in terms
of length of displacement and partly in terms of circumstances. In terms of length of displacement these
lasted up to: eleven days (Surigao del Sur), two weeks (Compostela Valley), running up to eight
months so far at the time of field research (Leyte), about a year (North Cotabato), and nearly five years
(Maguindanao).
The main difference in circumstances is between the Leyte bakwit (or evacuees) and those of the other
provinces: the estimated 200-250 Leyte bakwit left their community family-by-family over the span of
six months to escape perceived military attacks against them, and not en masse following a major
battle. Interviews indicate that such phenomena of bakwit also occurred at different periods for other
provinces affected by armed conflict, although this was not directly monitored by the research team.
The Department of Social Welfare and Development’s (DSWD) records estimate a total of 1,025,436
IDPs for the period 2001-2005, almost 70 percent of whom were in the ARMM and Region IX.2 The
Global IDP Database in turn estimates 908,000 IDPs.
In their own communities
The research team also encountered civilians adversely affected in the course of military counterinsurgency operations in their communities for being alleged supporters of or joining the CPP-NPANDFP or MILF-BIAF. Compared to IDPs, not as many civilians were affected as drastically, but the
phenomenon is nonetheless pervasive, has been occurring for decades, and is apparently intensifying.
Precise information on these incidents is difficult to come by especially since they tend to occur in
remote rural communities and many go unreported and undocumented. The research team itself heard
numerous anecdotal accounts. The independent human rights group Karapatan recorded 596 killings of
unarmed civilians nationwide in the 2001-2005 period that are alleged to be related to the AFP counterinsurgency program; 52 of the victims were under 18-years-old and 63 were women. That number of
deaths is three times the 199 civilians monitored killed in the crossfire during encounters between the
AFP and various armed groups.
Karapatan also monitored some 35,941 individual victims of violations of the right to life (resulting in
deaths or injury) and some 54,952 individual victims of threats, harassment, intimidation, and illegal
arrest/detention in the period 2001-2005. This was out of a reported total of 4,992 cases of human
rights violations affecting 283,097 individuals and 34,961 families in 420 communities.
The Children’s Rehabilitation Center (CRC) in turn reported 819 incidents of human rights violations
involving children as victims from 2001 to April 2005. These cases include 142 victims of killings, 24
victims of physical assault, 775 victims of threats, harassment and intimidation, and 112 victims of
arbitrary arrest and illegal detention. There were 75 children orphaned when their parents were killed.
CRC also estimates that 45 percent of the direct victims were 15 years old or younger.
Communities are sensitive to how they are spoken to, how their personal homes and properties are
treated, how cultural practices and even simple local standards of decorum are respected, and
especially about any violence inflicted on them whether recently or happening many years ago. The
research team observed that communities distinguish between armed groups and do not have a
common adverse reaction to the presence of armed men and women in their villages. Children and
women perceive the NPA and the MILF as providing concrete benefits for the communities, as
defending their interests and as being respectful of them. On the other hand there is distinct
apprehension about the presence of government soldiers. These attitudes have been formed over three
decades of dealing with the armed rebel groups and the military’s presence in their communities.
Nonetheless there was still some anxiety expressed at the presence of the NPA or MILF out of fear that
government soldiers may arrive and fighting might suddenly erupt in the community.
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3. Childhood Amidst War
All Filipino children especially in the country’s backward rural areas are burdened by poverty and the
scarcity of state social and welfare services. This is easily seen with even just a glance at national and
provincial indicators. These are already taking the greatest toll on Filipino children’s survival, welfare
and development. Yet in many areas around the country these factors are gravely compounded by the
adverse effect of on-going armed conflicts not only in terms of the dire consequences of shooting wars
and combat operations, but also in terms of rights abuses.
Children tend to be more vulnerable because they are physically weaker than adults, are still in the
process of developing their own competencies, and are usually still dependent on adults. This makes
them generally less able to deal with emerging crises which can thus have prolonged implications.
There are also children who face particularly greater hardships. The report invites special attention to
children who are at special risk of being perceived as relatives, supporters or outright members of the
CPP-NPA-NDFP or MILF-BIAF. There is also a small subset of children more likely to be involved in
conflict as actual combatants.
There were evident impacts on the education, physical and mental health, and general well-being of
conflict-affected children. The study also noted distinct differences in the impact of armed conflict on
children who remained in their communities and were affected by on-going military operations
compared to those who were displaced along with their families.
Schooling
The following were the effects on children’s schooling:
1.
For those who remained in their communities
• They temporarily stopped going to school from a few days to as long as over a month
because they were:
o Afraid of leaving their homes or being away from families while fighting was
going on
o Afraid of encountering government soldiers on the way to school and being
accused of going to help the NPA (ex. of bringing food, of passing information)
o Afraid of encountering soldiers and being asked or obliged to guide them
o Rendered incapable by stress/trauma-related symptoms
o Displaced when their schools were used as temporary camps by government
soldiers
o Forced to change schools because of perceived threats to them or their families
from government soldiers
• While at school, they are distracted by:
o Noise from shooting, explosions, helicopters and planes in nearby fighting
o Worries about the lives of family and even of the NPA
o The intimidating or otherwise disruptive presence of AFP soldiers
• Inconvenienced by being forced to take longer routes to school or to find a place to stay
nearer school (i.e. relatives, friends, rented) to avoid encountering AFP soldiers
• Having to balance schooling with paid work to support family incomes disrupted by
armed conflict and/or military operations
• Classes suspended for up to a month because of teachers’ fear of returning
2.
For those displaced
• Stopped going to school during the period of displacement because of:
o Insufficient funds following lost incomes and livelihoods
o Need of children to find work to help support the family
o Distance of evacuation center from school
o General uncertainty of situation particularly for how long the displacement will
last
• Schools destroyed in the fighting
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In the child patient survey conducted during the area medical missions it was found that only 6.4
percent of 3-5 year-olds were enrolled in day care.
Health
The following were the effects on children’s health:
1.
For those who remained in their communities
• Children’s meals were reduced when:
o Families were prevented from farming, hunting or gathering food
o Families bought less food from markets for fear of being accused of buying and
bringing food to the NPA
2.
For those displaced
• Poor diets due to:
o Meager rations in evacuation centers
o Collapsed family livelihoods and incomes
• Unhealthy conditions in evacuation centers: these were crowded, and unhygienic; the
occupants were exposed to the elements, dirty water, poor sanitation
• Inadequate health services in evacuation centers
• Unable to afford medical treatment for the sick
• Spread or outbreaks of scabies, chicken pox, measles, diarrhea, coughs, colds, fever
In the child patient survey conducted during the area medical missions, the following were the results
for:
• Stunting –
o All children: normal (20 percent), mild (18 percent), moderate (20 percent) and
severe (7 percent); 36 percent had incomplete or erroneous data.
o 0-5 years old: normal (37 percent), mild (26 percent), moderate (25 percent) and
severe (13 percent)
• Wasting –
severe (34 percent)
• Vitamin A supplements (patak twice a year, for 0-5 years old) – yes (51 percent), no (40
percent), no answer (9 percent)
Psychosocial
The following emotional and psychological effects on children were observed (both for those who were
displaced and those who remained in their communities):
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
Various manifestations of trauma: nervousness, sleeplessness, lack of appetite, staring
blankly into space, silence, absent-mindedness, recurring nightmares, depression, mood
swings, impatience, irritability, withdrawal, drug addiction and attempted suicide
Anxiousness triggered by sudden loud noises or seeing fatigue uniforms
Anxiety, sadness, anger and vengefulness after seeing abuses on family, friends and
neighbors by government soldiers
Anxiety over the presence of government soldiers and what they might do to perceived
supporters of their enemy
Stress-related illnesses: headaches, muscle pains, cramps, chest pains, nausea, fever
Constriction of personal space due to parental restrictions on mobility
Lingering sense of loss of homes, personal belongings, farm animals, crops (especially for
Central Mindanao IDPs)
Confusion, deep sense of lack of control over events, despair, skepticism about the future
(especially for Central Mindanao IDPs)
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Children under threat
During the field data-gathering, children felt that they were subject to deliberate attack from
government soldiers because of the following:
1.
Children who were direct victims
• Being directly accused and threatened
• Being physically attacked
• Being detained
• Being shot at
• Being forced to do errands, guide the soldiers, or spy for them
2.
Children whose families, friends and communities are suspected of supporting the NPA or
MILF
• Communities were accused and threatened
• Family members were accused and threatened
• Family members were physically attacked
• Children were harassed or used as bait to force parents who were suspected NPA
guerrillas into the open
Coping, survival and growth
Children showed the following capacities and efforts for coping, survival and growth:
1.
Children’s resources
• Revealed capacities from active children and youth involvement in production work,
domestic tasks and cultural activities in their communities
• Close family and relatives are most often the first sources of support
• Community mechanisms, whether indigenous socio-political structures or local
organizations, are strongly relied upon
• Awareness of basic social issues has been used as a point of reference to explain the ongoing armed conflict and, in some instances, to give structure to their lives
• Prayers and faith were frequently invoked as providing some kind of comfort and security
(especially in North Cotabato and Maguindanao)
2.
Children’s efforts
• Doing paid work to help support families (especially in the case of IDPs)
• Doing paid work to help support their continued studies
• Maintaining and being active in their local organizations
• Confronting government forces
• Voluntarily supporting armed groups
3.
Children’s hopes, dreams and aspirations
• Most commonly expressed was the desire to finish school and to help their families
• Various careers or occupations were mentioned from the most basic/survival to
professional careers (ex. slash and burn (kaingin) farmer, coal-maker, construction
worker, teacher, nurse, police, mechanic, engineer, doctor, lawyer, scientist, pilot,
president, NPA, Ustadza)
• Articulated the kind of community and society they want (ex. peaceful, no war, national
freedom, freedom for the Bangsamoro)
4. Children, the CPP-NPA-NDFP and the MILF-BIAF
The study sought to look into the CPP-NPA-NDFP’s and the MILF-BIAF’s officially stated policies
and procedures regarding the involvement in combat or other forms of participation of children in their
“revolutionary struggles”. It explored the mechanisms and dynamics by which declared policies have
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been put into practice on the ground. The issue was probed through various methods where the
hundreds of respondents of the study in the communities as well as in the armed groups themselves
were asked about their views, practices and observations.
The research team solicited official statements of policy from the CPP-NPA-NDFP and the MILFBIAF leadership. Actual implementation in the field was probed through interviews with local units
and, where relevant and possible, with community respondents. Relatively less difficulty was
encountered in field data-gathering with the NPA compared to the MILF with the result that more
information was obtained in the case of the former.
The following are the main points that surfaced regarding the CPP-NPA-NDFP:
1.
The issuance of the 1999 memo and subsequent clarifications were important administrative
steps in the implementation of the age requirement policy for combatants which was declared
as early as 1988.
2. There is widespread awareness of the minimum age requirement in the communities among
adults, youth and even children.
3. Communities have a role in implementing the minimum age requirement.
4. There were facilitating and hindering factors in the stricter implementation of the age
requirement policy after 1999.
5. Field research indicates general compliance with the policy on the minimum age requirement.
The research also came across accounts from the applicants themselves or their close relatives
and friends of under-18 applicants being turned away.
6. Community residents confirmed that there are minors who voluntarily help the NPA in noncombatant and less hazardous activities for short periods at a time.
7. Some young guerrillas shared experiences belying stereotypes of discrimination against
children and youth.
8. There is a functioning system for internal monitoring and sanctions.
The following are the main points that surfaced regarding the MILF-BIAF:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
The MILF categorically declares that it does not recruit children as combatants as a matter of
policy and that the rightful place of children is in school.
The MILF, whose ideological grounding is Islam, defines the age of maturity as early as 13-14
years old.
Young MILF fighters can volunteer to undergo military training especially those orphaned by
war.
The role of the young and under-18 within the MILF is basically auxiliary in character with
training meant to be primarily preparatory. They will engage in combat only “in extreme
cases”.
Field research of practice on the ground corroborates official policy pronouncements.
The study did not find any direct or indirect evidence of forced recruitment of child soldiers by either
armed group through coercion, compulsion or abduction. The data-gathering indicates that children
eagerly volunteer to join these armed groups, that some parents willingly give their consent, and that
communities often look on approvingly.
5. Women Amidst Conflict
The study looked into the needs of women emerging from situations of armed conflict more or less
along the usual dimensions of physical safety (including sexual violence), health and hygiene,
reproductive responsibilities and sources of livelihood. It explored how armed conflict and the presence
of the various armed groups have affected the women themselves, and with respect to the multiple roles
and responsibilities conventionally expected of them, to wit: child-bearing and rearing, general caregiving and assisting in their families’ livelihoods.
Armed conflict and its adversities have a particular effect on women given conventional cultural
expectations: the burden they bear is not just their own but also that of the whole family. The women
encountered in the course of data-gathering had experienced varying degrees of dislocation,
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displacement and personal suffering. However there were also many accounts of women dealing with
or otherwise reacting to difficult circumstances in ways contrary to traditional and conservative views
of women and motherhood.
Domestic tasks and livelihoods
The following were the effects on women’s work:
1.
Added economic burdens on women
• Less time working in their farms, which reduced farm output or caused crops to go to
waste, because:
o Farmers were prevented from going to their farms or were fearful of being
outside their homes after dark
o Having to go to the farms in large groups – mobilizing even other farmers –
reduced time spent on any given farm
• Animals were slaughtered, crops stolen or destroyed, agricultural machinery damaged and
store inventories looted by government soldiers
• Homes and farms were destroyed (especially for IDPs)
• Women took time-consuming extra precautions to secure their farm animals, crops and
store inventories
• Women were forced to look for odd jobs to supplement family incomes
• There were forced cutbacks in food consumption
2.
Heavier domestic tasks and family responsibilities
• The performance of domestic tasks was affected during military operations in their
communities:
o Women were distracted or anxious about the safety of their husbands and
children and were unable to do their normal work properly
o Women were afraid of being outside their homes which meant difficulties in
fetching water, finding kindling and gathering food
o Normal domestic duties which could otherwise be done individually had to be
performed “buddy system” or in bigger groups
o Mothers kept watchful eyes on their daughters out of fear that something may
happen to them with government soldiers around
o There was added work for mothers who started bringing their children to school
and fetching them out of fear of their being accosted by government soldiers
o Forcible, or otherwise unwanted, entry into and ransacking of homes violated
their privacy
o Government soldiers used up firewood, underpaid for goods bought and asked
women to cook for them
• In evacuation centers or otherwise away from their homes:
o Lack of food, clean water, clothes, beddings and other personal belongings
o More time was needed to do basic tasks because of poor kitchen, washing, toilet
and bathing facilities in evacuation centers
o Care-giving burdens were made heavier by more frequent and unrelieved illness
among children
3.
Families fragmented
• Less time to care for children or outright separation from them because of having to find
paid work away from home
• Mothers were separated from husbands and sons fleeing to avoid perceived threats against
them
Women’s health
The following were the effects on women’s general and reproductive health:
1.
Stress-related illnesses
• Distress, anxieties, depression, loneliness, frustrations
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•
Weariness, exhaustion, sleeplessness, nightmares
2.
Complications in pregnancies
• Shock and fear leading to fetal death
• Panic leading to premature birth
3.
Particularly in more stressful and unhygienic evacuation centers
• Evacuation center conditions led to infant deaths
• Recurring coughs, colds and fevers; spread of scabies
In the women patient survey conducted during the area medical missions, it was found that:
•
•
•
Only fifty-one percent (51%) of pregnant women had pre-natal care
Only forty-nine percent (49%) of pregnant women had tetanus toxoid shots
Pregnancies were attended by traditional birth attendants or hilot (73%), midwife (7%),
self (5%), doctor (4%) and BHW (3%).
Violence against women
Much of the sexual harassment of women by government soldiers is in their body language and is
difficult to capture in words. In any case, the field data-gathering resulted in accounts of:
1.
2.
Sexually suggestive comments or malicious jokes either loudly among themselves or directly
to women and girl children
Alleged fondling of women
Threats to women
Women have suffered the following:
1.
Directly to themselves
• Having guns pointed at them and their children
• Being openly threatened, with their children explicitly included in the threats
• Being accused outright of supporting the NPA and harassed for this
• Being illegally detained and interrogated
• Being forced to move out of fear of being used against their husbands alleged to be NPA
guerrillas
• Being forced to temporarily hide in forests to avoid government soldiers
• Having homes burned by government soldiers
2.
From aggression against their communities and families
• Their children and husbands being threatened and hurt
• Their husbands’ being sought
• Their communities’ being accused of supporting the NPA
• Neighbors being killed allegedly for being supporters of the NPA
Surmounting adversities
Women showed the following capacities and efforts in dealing with the adverse effects of armed
conflict as well as in trying to increase their control over the situation:
1.
Bearing greatly added economic burdens and family responsibilities
2.
Women’s empowerment
• Self-awareness of capacity to take action and overcoming the stereotype of weak and
dependent women
3.
Women’s efforts and organized action
• Finding ways to protect husbands, such as by mobilizing themselves and their children
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•
•
With community people’s organizations (POs), seeking help from outside the community
o Coordination with local non-government organizations (NGOs) and POs
o Coordination with local government units (LGUs)
Directly transacting and negotiating with armed groups:
o To seek the release of detained neighbors
o To request that there not be any fighting in their vicinity and/or to reduce their
presence in the community
o To seek explanations for fighting that occurs
o To seek indemnification for damage to or loss of their homes, belongings, farms
and animals
Hopes, dreams and aspirations
The women expressed the following hopes, dreams and aspirations:
1.
Immediate basic needs
• The hope that their children finish their education even at just the elementary school level
• Education: Schools in their community, good quality teachers; scholarships for their
children; day care centers
• Economic: Farm tools (shovels, plows, sprayers, threshers, etc.), work animals, tractors
and irrigation; poultry and livestock; higher prices and wider markets for their products;
lower prices of seeds, fertilizers and pesticides; jobs and livelihood opportunities
(including credit, capital, sewing machines); soil analysis to understand why yields are
low
• Health: Health centers, doctors, nurses and other health personnel; pre-natal and family
planning; medicines and vitamins
• Utilities: Potable water; electricity
• Better transport systems and roads
2.
Organizational needs
• Planning
• Strengthening of community POs
• Implementing projects such as cooperatives and others
• Uniting for strength in numbers
3.
External help
• Continue support groups for national minorities
• Help for IDPs
4.
Political and national economic demands
• For civilians to be left out of the fighting; for the military to stop accusing and scaring
civilians
• For soldiers not to enter their communities; for the NPA to not enter their communities
• For the military to be like the NPA and listen to and follow requests of civilians
• Respect for the rules of war and the Comprehensive Agreement on Respect for Human
Rights and International Humanitarian Law (CARHRIHL)
• Stop violations of their rights
• Justice for victims of human rights violations
• Preservation of their natural resources; end to mining and logging
• End to militarization and corruption
• Change in government and governance
• Change in national economic policies like oil price deregulation
• Government recognition of Bangsamoro independence and ancestral domain
• For the GRP-NDFP peace talks to continue
• For the GRP-MILF peace talks to conclude successfully
5.
Visions
• For their children not to experience the poverty of their parents
13
•
•
•
•
6.
Peace for the lumad
Communities of Bangsamoro for themselves and according to the Q’uran
An end to war and fighting for more peaceful communities
A change in the social system
Particularly for IDPs
• Food support, while they still do not have sources of livelihood
• To be able to safely return to their homes and farms; to be reunited with their families and
relatives
• Clothes and basic household items (kitchen items, pails, wash basins)
• Homes, carpentry tools and housing materials
• Knowledge about and cures for scabies
• To set up an organization of IDPs from their province
6. Overall Impact of the Conflict
The overall impact of armed conflict on communities can be understood at two levels: the
accumulation of effects on individual men, women and children as well as on communities; and,
though far more difficult to identify, the general effect at the national level of protracted guerrilla and
positional armed conflicts in terms of lost economic opportunities and unrealized social potentials.
While the second level of impact is important, it is beyond the scope of the current study.
Accumulated effects
The accumulated effects of armed conflict are most conventionally seen in terms of tallying the number
of individual victims and extrapolating the sum of the adverse effects on them. This is the case for
instance when counting over a million IDPS, some 43,000 victims of conflict-related human rights
violations over the period 2001-2005, and 343 civilian casualties of armed encounters – and then
giving more depth to these numbers through qualitative accounts. Aside from the effects on children
and women already discussed earlier, there are four points regarding economic effects and social
capital worth emphasizing:
1.
2.
3.
4.
The people reached by the research were mainly engaged in subsistence low-input agricultural
production with extremely low productivity. Their families were perpetually on the knife-edge
of subsistence: earning just enough to survive and meet their most basic needs and not
generating any surplus. They were in a delicate equilibrium easily upset by theft, health
emergencies, adverse weather and the manifold disruptions to lives by armed conflict.
Accumulated losses in personal economic capital can be considerable for those directly
affected. Respondents were particularly burdened by the costs of rebuilding homes, replacing
livestock, and restoring crops and farmland. IDPs were most adversely affected. Also, the
communities covered by the study already suffered from bad roads, and water, power,
telecommunication, education and health infrastructure problems to begin with. There have
been anecdotal accounts of significant and sustained damage to these due to fighting in MILF
camps, but with no such accounts emerging in NPA-influenced areas.
Aside from evident economic losses, victims of armed conflict also suffer losses in social
capital that has been painstakingly built up. These include disruptions not only in the usual
family support networks but also in community-based organizations. Armed conflict situations
have rendered these untenable for various reasons and in varying degrees.
The momentum of recovery begins after fighting and when the disrupting presence of abusive
soldiers recedes. This is relatively quick for those who remain in their communities but much
more difficult for IDPs who are unable to quickly regain or rebuild the accumulated economic
capital they have lost due to armed conflict. The problem is most severe in the Moro areas
which have seen cycles of war since the 1970s. This has resulted in a situation of perpetually
arrested development.
The effects on affected civilians and how they recover should particularly be seen against their
prevalent low economic status and the underdeveloped conditions of their communities. The more
undermined the economic basis of family life, the harder it is for victims to make progress along any of
the other areas of impact: education, health, psychosocial state and others. Destructive armed conflict
14
and widespread looting threaten to wipe out hard-earned capital and to divest poor rural families of
critical sources of livelihood not just in the immediate period but also far into the future.
Comparing Armed Conflict and Non-Armed Conflict Areas
The study also tried to look into how far the adverse effects of armed conflicts can be generalized at the
town level. Based on the household survey conducted comparing eight (8) armed conflict (AC) and
eight (8) non-armed conflict (non-AC) areas, the study arrived at the following observations.
On education
• The percentage of children who said that they were not in school was almost the same in AC
and non-AC areas. The greatest concentration of children stopped schooling at about the same
level and the most common reason cited for stopping schooling is overwhelmingly the lack of
funds.
• More children in AC areas said that not all the students in their school had their own desks,
slightly fewer children said that their classes had forty-one (41) or more students, and more
children said that they had multi-grade sessions in their classes.
On health
• The number of times children said that they ate per day is almost the same in AC and non-AC
areas.
• Fewer children in AC areas said that there were the following health services or facilities in
their barangay: barangay health workers, health centers, clinics and traditional healers
(arbolaryo).
• More children in AC areas said that there was a community organization providing health
services in their barangay.
• Fewer children in AC areas said that they had been vaccinated.
• More women in armed conflict areas said that they experienced sudden interruptions in health
services with the main reason cited being lack of funds.
On mobility
• More children in armed conflict areas said that there was a curfew in their communities.
• Fewer children in armed conflict areas said they were allowed to play outside or wander
around freely.
On families’ production work, earnings and livelihoods
• More children in armed conflict areas helped their families in production work.
• More women in AC areas said that their family’s earnings were not enough for their needs.
• More women in AC areas said that they were directly involved in their families’ main sources
of livelihood.
• More children and women in AC areas said that their family’s livelihoods have been
drastically affected in the last five years. The most frequently cited reasons for this were
“war”, in AC areas, and “crisis” or “livelihood problems”, in the non-AC areas.
• Fewer children in AC areas, and more women in AC areas, said they were subsequently
forced to find work.
On women’s reproductive work
• More women in AC areas said that they encountered drastic problems in house work and
taking care of their children. The most frequently cited reason for this was “sickness in the
family”.
On violence against women
• Fewer women in AC areas said that they knew of wife-beating/abuse and rape happening in
their community.
• More women in AC areas said that they knew of gross disrespect of (pambabastos) and threats
to women happening in their community.
• However, a high proportion of respondents did not give any answers.
On available services and programs
15
•
•
•
•
A large proportion of women said no one had programs for women in their area.
Nonetheless, for those who answered that there were such organizations: in AC areas more
women said that community organizations rather than the government had such programs in
their area; in non-AC areas it was the other way around, with more women saying that
government rather than community organizations had such programs.
More women in AC areas said that the government did not have livelihood programs in their
community.
More women in AC areas said that the government was not able to address their livelihood,
health and children’s educational needs.
On community organizations
• More children in AC areas said that there are local youth organizations in their community.
• More women in AC areas said that there are local women organizations in their community.
On problems in their area
• More children in armed conflict areas said that they and their families are currently facing
turmoil (kaguluhan) or dangers (panganib).
On utilities
• Fewer women in AC areas said that their homes had electricity. Of those women who said that
their homes had electricity, fewer women in AC areas experienced disruptions in electricity
services.
• More women in AC areas said that they had nearby sources of potable water. Fewer women in
AC areas said that there were times that they had difficulty getting potable water.
7. Some Experiences in Meeting Needs of Children and Women
Among the most significant points that emerged were the following:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
Local community organizations can play critical roles in both community-initiated efforts as
well as in coordinating with outside POs, NGOs, LGUs and personal contacts starting with the
time before displacement, during the evacuees’ time in evacuation centers, and upon their
return to their communities.
There are serious difficulties in stopping human rights violators in remote rural communities
where the military in particular seems to operate with impunity.
While evacuation centers provide greater safety than staying in their home communities, there
was the perpetual lament of poor physical and socioeconomic conditions affecting families’
health and well-being. A stressful security situation in and around evacuation centers also
greatly added to tensions and difficulties.
There is a steep drop in resources for and attention to IDPs once they return to their home
communities and respondents articulated gross insufficiencies across a wide range of
economic, education, health, clothing, shelter, houseware and water needs.
IDPs remain wary about their security in their home communities; at least one organized
group of IDPs tried to reach an agreement with government soldiers to be kept safe from
military abuses but was rebuffed.
Organized communities are capable of innovative efforts (ex. one local community
organization prepared a stress reduction module for its children).
8. Conclusions and Recommendations
Children and women have been affected by armed conflict as direct victims caught in the middle of
hostilities and as IDPs; there is also the specialized and controversial matter of child soldiers. Yet
children and women are also gravely affected in the course of military counter-insurgency operations;
the numbers involved are not insignificant and deserve critical attention. Moreover, there are
indications that government forces have greater accountability than other armed groups and that attacks
on civilians seem to be a defining feature of the ongoing armed conflicts.
16
The findings of the study on the concrete conditions of children and women in the rural communities
affected by armed conflict suggest approximately three clusters of needs:
•
•
•
First, the most basic, widespread and long-standing needs are those affecting the entire civilian
population; these result from the general situation of poverty, the backwardness of state social and
welfare systems, and the weakness of governance. These cut across all the people in the study
areas.
Second, there are the pressing needs of children and women displaced either: 1) by evacuation en
masse due to the eruption of intensive and sustained combat; or 2) by individualized family
evacuation due to prolonged and systematic threats and/or attacks against their families.
Third, there are the needs of children and women in these communities who are generally affected
by the situation of conflict, the presence of armed groups, and counter-insurgency operations by
government soldiers with their concomitant civilian population-control measures.
Focus objective #1: Alleviate overall poverty, backwardness and weak governance. The
persistence of armed conflict in the country appears intractable largely because they are responses to
larger social and historical factors. This implies a larger preventative framework that must be
appreciated at a strategic level.
1.
2.
3.
4.
Conduct wide-ranging development projects at provincial and regional levels for poverty
reduction, and increase the access of the poor to social and economic services (especially
education, health and livelihood opportunities).
Support peace-building initiatives that address the roots of armed conflicts and eschew
militarist solutions to the insurgency that only intensify adverse effects on children and
women.
o Community respondents have in places also called for a resumption of the stalled GRPNDFP peace talks, and for the GRP-MILF talks to be brought to a meaningful and
generally acceptable conclusion.
Increase awareness and appreciation of children’s and women’s rights through education,
training programs and advocacy, as well as ensure that these are reflected at the political,
policy and operational levels.
Improve the respect and observance of human rights and international humanitarian law –
recently finding specific expression in the Philippine context in the CARHRIHL – and of
declared age requirements for full-time fighters.
Focus objective #2: Improve relief efforts and ensure greater support for rehabilitation. In
instances of actual short- or longer-term displacement, emergency service delivery only partially
responds to immediate needs and is frequently inadequate in various respects. These efforts can be
improved to more effectively mitigate the impact on children and women.
•
To improve relief efforts:
1. Study the extent of “invisible” IDPs and their patterns of out-migration and support so as
to better target them for support system interventions.
2. Improve basic health and sanitary conditions in evacuation centers.
3. Improve livelihood opportunities to improve the economic base of families’ well-being.
4. Distance armed groups from evacuation centers to lessen tensions and stress in already
stressful situations.
•
To improve rehabilitation efforts:
1. Increase the resources available for development rehabilitation with priority for
supporting the return of children to school, for addressing children’s most pressing
psychosocial and medical needs, and for recovering families’ lost economic capital.
2. Address the demoralization of both children and adults due to protracted experiences of
displacement, loss and armed conflict.
3. Expedite and prioritize the safe return of evacuees to lessen the protracted humanitarian
load and to channel these towards more sustainable development assistance; coordination
among stakeholders can be the basis for more effective negotiations with government
military forces.
4. More quickly mobilize resources towards addressing the most critical and urgent
economic losses in the communities (farm implements, inputs and animals).
17
Focus objective #3: Address the deliberate or otherwise reckless endangerment of civilians and
civilian communities, especially children and women, during counter-insurgency operations.
Children and women who remain in their communities face pressing problems from the effects of
small-scale fighting, during military pursuit operations, and for being perceived as supporting the NPA
or MILF. It is important to normalize livelihoods as well as education and health services that are
disrupted; yet it is also critical to protect children and women and ensure their well-being and
protection from attacks.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
Improve the monitoring, reporting and verification of violations of children’s and women’s
rights in situations of armed conflict. Special attention must be given to determining the
degree, intensity and pattern of violations.
Raise the level of public discourse on the issues of human rights and international
humanitarian law.
Promote accountability by condemning perpetrators of crimes against children and women
and holding them accountable for their actions.
Advocate more explicit prohibitions against equating civilians and communities with armed
rebel groups. Specifically:
o Stop the targeting and harassment of civilians apparently aimed at undermining the NPA
and MILF political infrastructure.
o Stop the targeting of families of suspected NPA and MILF fighters.
o Stop civilian population- control measures.
Provide additional protection and access to services to communities affected by armed conflict
especially rapid medical and legal services to victims.
These three general focus objectives constitute an underlying framework against which specific
recommendations for the various relevant stakeholders have been made. They have then also been
particularized in the body of the report for UNICEF, the national government and its relevant line
agencies, local governments, NGOs and other institutional responders, communities, and the armed
groups or forces involved (the AFP, the CPP-NPA-NDFP and the MILF-BIAF).
PART II
The Research Areas
Area profiles give additional information on the eight (8) communities visited. They draw heavily on
the direct accounts of residents during the FGDs, life stories and key informant interviews. They are
firsthand and collective testimonies on the concrete conditions in each of the communities, on the
effect of armed conflict on them, and on their personal and common aspirations.
The Maeng tribe community in Abra has had a CPP-NPA-NDFP presence since the late 1970s, with
government military operations in subsequent decades reaching division-size. A few years of “relative
quiet” were broken in 2005 by government pursuit operations of the NPA that culminated in two weeks
of continuous bombings in an unpopulated mountain range adjacent to the village.
Villagers of the Mindoro Oriental village visited recall a high profile CPP-NPA-NDFP activity in the
area in 2001. The Mangyan residents say that military operations greatly intensified after this and,
accused of being supporters of the NPA, they were subjected to widespread abuses, threats and
harassment in the months that followed. Local leaders were killed and the local organizations the
community had painstakingly built over the years all but withered away.
The Tumandok of the Capiz research area have a long history of struggling to assert their rights over
their ancestral land which is in the heart of what they say is the country’s largest military reservation.
At the same time local community organizations are active, with small-scale health and socioeconomic
projects. They say government troops have long been hostile to them, but that things became even
worse after a large NPA ambush in the next town which resulted in many military casualties. After this,
they said, “they [the government forces] revealed their true colors, and worse.”
18
The first armed encounters in the tri-boundary research area in Leyte happened some three-and-a-half
decades ago. Equally memorable for many residents was the rapid growth of the rural and urban mass
movement in the 1980s that is the foundation for many of their people’s organizations today. The last
three years, however, have seen apparent extra-judicial killings of leaders and activists who are accused
of being with CPP “front organizations” (especially from the ranks of the party-list group Bayan
Muna). Civilians in the community have been beaten, threatened and harassed by the military, forcing
hundreds to flee for their lives – not through the stereotypical mass evacuation, but one-by-one and
family-by-family over a six-month period.
The Manobo of the Surigao del Sur research area narrate many generations of government neglect and
lowlander exploitation of their community’s forest and mineral resources. On the other hand, they say
they appreciated the NPA’s respect for their lumad culture and their encouragement of more active
community life. In 2005 the children and adults said that “metal birds” arrived amidst shooting and
explosions, that they were herded into the village school during military operations, that they were
treated as if they were NPA themselves, and that they were evacuated to the miserable conditions of an
evacuation center.
The first encounter with the NPA of the research site village in Compostela Valley was in the 1970s
and military operations there reached a high point in 1975 when the area was declared “No-Man’s
Land”. By 2003, residents could still claim that their village was peaceful even if still very poor.
Things changed for the worse with an outbreak of fighting that resulted in the evacuation of hundreds
of families for two weeks.
The Moro people of the barrio visited in North Cotabato say that war visits them every three years. It
most recently arrived in 2003 when government forces undertook a military operation to overrun the
MILF’s headquarters in the Buliok Complex. Some 45,000 residents evacuated amidst aerial
bombardments, shelling and shooting and were only able to return to their homes after a year. They say
that the military is not just after the MILF, but also the Liguasan Marsh’s rich natural resources.
The barrio visited in Maguindanao is considered part of the MILF’s Rajamudah Camp and has seen
fighting between the AFP and the MILF since 1973. When war broke out most recently in 2000 with
the government effort to seize the MILF’s central headquarters of Camp Abu Bakr in Matanog,
Maguindanao, some 60,000 residents evacuated even as their homes and crops were being destroyed.
They lived in the dismal conditions of evacuation centers for the next five years and pined for their
quieter, happier and more peaceful lives before the war. Although they have recently returned to their
homes, the return of these lives still eludes them.
Endnotes
1
By armed group involved: 42 killed/50 wounded (NPA), 82+k/24w (MILF), 12k/0w (MNLF), 63k/70w (ASG).
2
ARMM includes the provinces of Basilan, Lanao del Sur, Maguindanao, Sulu and Tawi-Tawi. Region IX includes
Zamboanga del Norte, Zamboanga del Sur and Zamboanga Sibugay.
19
Table of Contents
Acronyms
iii
Executive Summary
v
Table of Contents
xxv
PART I
Chapter 1. Overview of the Study
1.
2.
Framework and Objectives
Methodology
a. Research tools
b. Field work
Chapter 2. Communities in Situations of Armed Conflict
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
The Major Armed Groups
a. The CPP-NPA-NDFP
b. The MILF-BIAF
Positional and Guerrilla Wars
a. Counter-insurgency and civilians
i. Overall frameworks
ii. Indicators of “the enemy”
iii. Counter-insurgency practice
Hostilities in the Study’s Research Areas
Trends
a. Internally displaced persons
b. Counter-insurgency victims
Communities and the Armed Groups
a. Overall context
b. Community perceptions
c. Peaceful communities
d. On women and children
e. Health, education and livelihoods
f. Empowerment
g. Fearful communities
h. Taking sides
i. Realities for young and old
j. Islam for Moro communities
Chapter Conclusion
Chapter 3. Childhood Amidst War
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
Children’s Realities
Disrupted Communities
Schooling
a. Schooling stopped
b. Interrupted, disturbed and distracted
Physical Health Problems
Traumas
Threats to Children
a. To ourselves
b. My community, family and friends
Coping, Survival and Growth
a. Children’s resources
b. Children’s efforts
1
1
3
9
9
13
19
20
25
38
43
43
44
46
50
52
54
59
20
c.
Chapter 4. Children, the CPP-NPA-NDFP and the MILF-BIAF
1.
2.
On Children Wishing to Join the New People’s Army (NPA)
a. Official policy on combatants
b. Implementation process
c. Monitoring and sanctions
On Children Wishing to Join the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF)
a. Official policy on combatants
b. Implementation process
Chapter 5. Women Amidst Conflict
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
The Situations Faced by Women
Livelihoods and Domestic Tasks
a. Disrupted livelihoods
b. Disturbed homes
Women’s Health
Violence Against Women
Threats to Women
a. To ourselves
b. Families’ safety
Surmounting Adversities
a. Women’s empowerment
b. Women’s efforts and organized action
c. Women’s hopes, dreams and aspirations
Chapter 6. Overall Impact of the Conflict
1.
2.
3.
Accumulated Effects
a. The knife-edge of subsistence
b. Personal economic capital and public infrastructure
c. Social capital
d. Recovery
a. On education
b. On health
c. On mobility
d. On families’ production work, earnings and livelihoods
e. On women’s reproductive work
f. On violence against women
g. On women’s concerns
h. On available services and programs
i. On community organizations
j. On problems in their area
k. On utilities
Chapter Conclusion
Chapter 7. Some Experiences in Meeting the Needs of Children and Women
1.
2.
Children and Women Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs)
a. Conventional IDPs
b. “Invisibly” displaced
Children and Women in their Communities
a. Victims of war
Chapter 8. Conclusion and Recommendations
1.
General Recommendations
63
64
80
85
85
87
90
93
94
96
103
103
108
115
117
117
121
125
126
21
2.
Specific Recommendations
129
PART II
The Research Areas
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
Abra
Mindoro Oriental
Capiz
Leyte
Surigao del Sur
Compostela Valley
North Cotabato
Maguindanao
137
144
156
169
181
197
207
216
229
22
PART I
23
CHAPTER 1
Overview of the Study
Framework and objectives
The protracted armed conflicts in many parts of the Philippine countryside have affected communities,
especially children and women, in various ways. These effects have occurred in essentially two
contexts: the situation of direct armed engagements in or near rural communities; and the situation
outside such armed confrontations but with the presence and concomitant activities of the armed
groups involved (i.e. counter-insurgency operations, guerrilla movements, building of fixed camps).
Thus the effects on people have not only been those related to actual combat – the most obvious sign of
a state of war – but also those due to the military operations and community-based activities of the
armed groups involved. These are less visible but more pervasive.
The direct hazards from actual combat between the government’s Armed Forces of the Philippines
(AFP) and the fighters of the Communist Party of the Philippines-New People’s Army-National
Democratic Front of the Philippines (CPP-NPA-NDFP) or the Moro Islamic Liberation FrontBangsamoro Islamic Auxiliary Force (MILF-BIAF) have had the most severe and dramatic effects.
Yet the fighting in the Philippines, though long-running, has not been characterized by the sort of high
and sustained levels of human and material devastation seen in other internal conflicts in other
countries.1 The most severe fighting has occurred in MILF-BIAF areas in Mindanao which have seen
large-scale military offensives particularly since the late 1990s to as recently as 2003. This is in
contrast to the situation in the areas of operation of the CPP-NPA-NDFP which are said to cover as
many as 9,000 barangays or villages in 70 (or 95 percent) of the country’s provinces. Fighting here
apparently tends to be infrequent, of relatively short duration, involving only small military formations
on both sides, and occurring in outlying areas away from village centers and homes.
This is not to say that adverse impacts have not been severe for individuals, families and communities
or that the cumulative long-term effects have not been considerable. Rather, it is to draw attention to
the impact of the on-going armed conflicts on children and women that are not primarily due to
exposure to actual combat or being caught in the actual crossfire of battles. Despite the relatively
substantial size of the rebel forces involved in the country’s internal armed conflicts, large-scale intense
and destructive battles are not sustained on a daily basis. Nor do these always occur in heavily
populated centers. Indeed the trend in the last two to three (2-3) years has been more towards small
guerrilla actions, as opposed to positional battles, and the AFP’s “low-intensity conflict” (LIC)
approach to counter-insurgency (COIN).
There is a continuing need to consider the impacts of short-term or long-term physical displacement
following actual fighting and associated military operations. However, the research team also came
across many individual families voluntarily choosing to evacuate not because of any actual fighting but
because of perceived threats directly against them; the numbers of these “invisibly” internally displaced
persons still have to be probed further. The study also calls particular attention to the adverse impacts
on children and women of incidents in the course of their daily lives during “regular” counterinsurgency operations in the communities (i.e. unrelated to any specific incidents of combat). In any
case, particularly in the most conflict-affected areas, there is a palpable accumulated legacy of
violence, loss of lives, displacement from homes, and devastation of livelihoods.
The data-gathering also came across accounts of non-military community-based activities by the CPPNPA-NDFP and MILF-BIAF which these groups apparently consider an essential part of the struggles
they are waging. Many child and women respondents (and other adults) looked favorably on these
activities which are perceived as meeting some of their felt but unmet needs. It appears that these
activities go far in explaining support for the rebel armed groups at the local level. There are
implications for the design of interventions.
The adverse effects of particular armed incidents are important aspects of a dire situation; these impacts
at the level of individual children, women, families and communities are the take-off point of the study.
24
But the investigation is located within the overall reality of a protracted war with many facets beyond
armed encounters. Moreover, the children and women amidst armed conflict also have needs in
common with the rest of the larger civilian population. This conceptualization aims for a more
comprehensive picture of children’s and women’s needs towards a better understanding of the
dynamics and effect of the country’s long-running armed conflicts. In addition, children and women
are conceived as physically, emotionally and psychologically affected not just as individuals but as
individuals embedded in cultural practices, socio-political structures, local organizations and economic
systems. This study is an initial effort at investigating this totality and of the emerging needs of women
and children.
The study aims to facilitate the implementation and practice of important United Nations (UN)
conventions and efforts such as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the Convention on the
Rights of the Child and the Beijing Platform for Action which identifies the effect of armed conflict on
women as a critical area of concern. Consistent with the rights-based approach, the study recognizes
that progress towards the realization of children’s and women’s rights depends on the entire complex of
social, political and economic arrangements in the areas studied..
The general objective is thus to assess the needs of children and women in conflict-affected
communities as well as the services necessary to address these needs, recognizing the shared concerns
and salient differences in the needs of children and women. The specific objectives are:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
to describe the situation of children and women in conflict-affected communities,
including children directly involved in armed conflict and minors associated with the
contending armed forces;
to identify the joint and separate needs of children and women in these
communities arising from the effects of armed conflict;
to assess the coping mechanisms as well as services, projects and other interventions
needed to address these needs in terms of community accessibility, control and
effectiveness;
to contribute to the empowerment of the target research communities by heightening
their understanding of the rights of children and women;
to formulate and recommend measures and strategies at the program and
community levels on how the needs and rights of children and women in conflict
areas can be better addressed and protected; and
to contribute to the formulation of a National Plan of Action for the realization of the
rights of children and women involved in armed conflict.
Methodology
The research team combined primary and secondary data-gathering methods. Primary data-gathering
was conducted in eight (8) communities in eight (8) provinces geographically dispersed nationwide:
Abra and Mindoro Oriental (Luzon); Capiz and Leyte (Visayas); and Surigao del Sur, Compostela
Valley, North Cotabato and Maguindanao (Mindanao). (See Figure 1) These communities are in the
Cordillera Administrative Region or CAR (Abra), Region IV-B (Mindoro Oriental), Region VI
(Capiz), Region VIII (Leyte), Region XIII or Caraga (Surigao del Sur), Region XI (Compostela
Valley), Region XII (North Cotabato) and the Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao or ARMM
(Maguindanao).
25
Figure 1: Map of the Research Areas
The communities visited each have their own particular histories of the presence of either the CPPNPA-NDFP or the MILF-BIAF and of armed conflict, with many tracing the latter back to the early
1970s. “War” is not a recent phenomenon for any of them. At present they have in common reputations
for being strongly-influenced by these rebel groups. They are also areas of on-going armed conflicts –
understood for the purposes of the study as meaning that at least one armed encounter between
guerrillas and government troops has taken place there since 2001 – to ensure that the information
gathered is current and immediately relevant. The most recent outbreaks of hostilities in the areas
studied occurred in 2001 (Mindoro Oriental), 2003 (Maguindanao), 2003 (North Cotabato) and 2005
(Abra, Capiz, Leyte, Surigao del Sur, Compostela Valley).
Research tools
26
Four main qualitative research tools were used: focused group discussions (FGDs), life stories, key
informant interviews (KIIs) and participant observation. In each of the eight (8) communities there
were three (3) FGDs for children, women and mixed adults/parents, respectively. There were 125 child
FGD respondents, 123 women respondents and 133 mixed adult/parent respondents. The children
FGDs in particular used games, drawing, singing and other creative activities not just for rapportbuilding but as data-gathering methods in themselves. The women and mixed adult/parent FGDs also
used these activities although to a lesser degree. Children and women FGDs ran for approximately two
days, while mixed adult/parent FGDs ran for a day. In areas where Tagalog is not widely spoken, each
FGD had two-four (2-4) interpreters for cross-checking of translations and to minimize interpreter
fatigue.
The life stories of at least two (2) children and one (1) woman were also sought in each area. This
target was exceeded, and there were a total of 24 child life stories and 11 women life stories. These ran
anywhere from 30 minutes to four hours. Key informants included community leaders, local
government officials, religious leaders, church workers, non-government organization (NGO) workers,
human rights activists, teachers and school officials. There were over 50 key informants formally
interviewed, not counting scores of other people spoken to informally while in the field. These
interviews took from 10-15 minutes to some four hours.
As much as two weeks were spent in each community to maximize opportunities for sustained and
informal interaction and to give the team the flexibility to work around the production, domestic and
schooling schedules of the respondents. The research team also took special efforts to interact with
MILF and NPA officials and fighters in the field. The MILF’s Chief Information Officer was also
interviewed and an email questionnaire sent to the CPP Executive Committee-Central Committee (ECCC).
Two surveys were also conducted in each province covered. One was conducted among children and
women, respectively, in an armed conflict area with a corresponding control sample of children and
women from a non-armed conflict area in the same province. This is a tentative attempt to see if there
are significant differences in the conditions of armed conflict as opposed to non-armed conflict areas.
There were a total of 800 respondents. The second survey was conducted among children and women
(mothers) patients in small medical missions in each of the areas covering basic health and education
indicators, with a total of 705 children and 475 women respondents. In addition there was an informal
“survey” on the recruitment ages of 122 NPA fighters encountered by the research team; a similar
effort was not possible in the case of the MILF.
Secondary data-gathering covered national government, local government and NGO data on
socioeconomic indicators and human rights violations.2 Data on armed confrontations relied on IBON’s
in-house monitoring which collates reports from various publications and sources. Multiple research
tools allowed the team to cross-check the validity of information towards strengthening the research’s
overall findings. In the FGDs, life stories and KIIs, discrepancies in specific details such as dates and
some quantitative information were inevitable but were unlikely to affect the essential points.
Field work
A particular contribution of the study arises from the unique and extended access given the research
team by the CPP-NPA-NDFP to its areas of influence. The sprawling fixed camps in Mindanao of the
MILF-BIAF facilitate the visit of outsiders as much as the invisible “guerrilla zones” of the CPP-NPANDFP scattered in hinterlands across the country discourage them. The research team greatly
appreciates the cooperation and endorsement of the NDFP and the MILF leadership which was vital in
establishing an initial level of trust and openness from the hundreds of respondents who were largely
interviewed in their own milieu and in their respective communities. The study has given special value
to the description, interpretation, reflection and commentary of the children and women respondents on
their own circumstances, experiences and aspirations.
The research team found it relatively more difficult to access MILF-influenced areas. Despite the
team’s best efforts which included having Moro researchers in the team and coordination with MILF
officials, it was not able to completely allay the understandable security concerns of the community
specially when talking about the MILF with outsiders. Community-MILF dynamics was still explored,
but not to the same degree as in NPA-influenced areas.
27
The research team did not interview officials and personnel of either the AFP or the Philippine
National Police (PNP) as part of its methodology for both practical and methodological reasons. The
practical reason is that the research team saw a security concern with formally scheduling interviews
with representatives of state armed forces in the field, This is considering the nature of the research and
the nature of the communities to be visited especially given the reputation of hostility of military
personnel to “human rights groups”, “fact-finding missions” and other such research-related activities
that inquire into the situation in areas of armed conflict. The methodological reason is that the research
has a very specific focus: to look into the greatly under-researched topic of how armed conflict affected
communities, in CPP-NPA-NDFP- and MILF-BIAF-influenced areas, themselves see what is
happening around them.
In any case, the research team elicited the views of a very wide range of people. These were primarily
community residents but also included leaders of local organizations, local government officials,
religious leaders, church workers, NGO workers, human rights activists, teachers and school officials
as well as MILF and NPA officials and fighters. The research does not aspire to capture the universe of
views – even if much diversity has been achieved albeit without state armed forces – and it is expected
that its results will be read against other related studies.
Protocols were followed to ensure that the research team’s entry and stay in the areas was as smooth,
non-invasive, welcome and transparent as possible. Local community research-cum-contact teams were
formed in each area composed of around three to five (3-5) people familiar with the areas, language
and culture, and who ideally were themselves also known to the communities. In most cases at least
one (1) local team member was a resident of the community. These teams were vital in establishing
relations with the local people’s organizations (POs) and in orienting and facilitating acceptance of
“outsider” researchers, as well as in coordinating the many logistical tasks involved. They were also
responsible for implementing the surveys.
The field research visits followed a basic process, with the greatest emphasis given to working closely
with the community especially through local POs. Even before the actual field data-gathering, the local
teams immersed themselves in the area for familiarization, initial orientations on the research
objectives, and logistical preparations. The actual field visits involved courtesy calls on local
government officials (barangay captains, mayors or governors), introduction of the research team to the
community, and orientation on the entire research trip (during a mass meeting or similar indigenous
local venue), some dispersal of the team members to different homes for lodging, nightly assessments
by the research team and community representatives, strict deference to local customs and standards of
decorum, ensuring the consent of parents to the participation of their children, feedback of initial
results to community representatives, and a concluding solidarity night of cultural presentations and
messages.
A valuable aspect of the study which became apparent only in the course of the field work is how the
FGDs provided the opportunity for the communities to take stock of their collective history in the midst
of war. As it turned out, for most of the areas the sharing of the elders, parents, women and children
during the FGDs was the first time that they had ever recounted as a group their personal experiences
of three decades or more of armed conflict, and the first time that they had ever systematically located
their individual stories in a larger historical and national context.
Some difficulties were encountered because of the requirement for lengthy field visits to communities
with an active CPP-NPA-NDFP and MILF-BIAF presence and active armed conflict. Two (2) field
visits and data-gathering that were already ongoing had to be interrupted and rescheduled because the
security situation had become untenable following military encounters between the AFP and the NPA
(Capiz, Compostela Valley). The period of data-gathering coincided with declarations of intensified
nationwide offensives by the CPP-NPA-NDFP in the fourth quarter of 2005.
Coordination with partner NGOs and POs and their preparations in the areas were also generally
disrupted by apparent attacks nationwide on leaders and members of organizations critical of the
administration. One field visit even had to be called off entirely because the target partner
organizations in the original province could no longer safely operate openly (Samar); an alternate area
in the next province was identified (Leyte). On more than one occasion local government officials and
28
the local AFP military command were vocal about their suspicion of the research team’s objectives
(Mindoro Oriental, Capiz, North Cotabato, Maguindanao).
Coordination and travel difficulties were further compounded by how armed conflict areas tend to be in
the hinterlands with difficult terrain and limited road, transport, power and telecommunications
infrastructure. Mountain trail treks took anywhere from three to seven (3-7) hours; some areas involved
multiple and difficult river crossings. In some communities, houses were very dispersed over hilly
terrain and far from each other.
During the data-gathering, the respondents were generally open but nonetheless expressed a universal
desire for confidentiality. Pseudonyms have thus been used to protect the identities of the respondents
quoted in this report. The names of specific barangays/villages and towns/municipalities have likewise
been changed, although those of the provinces they are in have been retained. The names of community
organizations, POs and NGOs have also been changed.
The research team understood the desire for confidentiality as due to fear of AFP military reprisals and
as something borne of respondents’ personal experiences. But in the course of the research a subtle
distinction became apparent. Many respondents divulged degrees of participation in the on-going
armed conflict as supporters of either the NPA or the MILF – in these cases the desire for
confidentiality was not so much out of fear but simply being prudent about divulging the extent of their
support.
Endnotes
1
As for instance in many internal conflicts in Central Asia and Africa.
Including the National Statistics Office (NSO), National Statistical Coordination Board (NSCB), National Economic
and Development Authority (NEDA), Commission on Human Rights (CHR), Karapatan-Alliance for the Advancement of
Human Rights (Karapatan) national and local chapters, Government of the Republic of the Philippines-National
Democratic Front of the Philippines Joint Monitoring Committee (GRP-NDFP JMC), and Bayan Muna Party-List.
2
29
CHAPTER 2.
Communities in Situations of Armed Conflict
This chapter aims to provide an understanding of the general circumstances in which armed conflict
occurs as the overall context for the current assessment of the needs of children and women affected by
armed conflict. The first part briefly introduces the major armed groups in current conflict with the
Philippine government: the Communist Party of the Philippines-New People’s Army-National
Democratic Front of the Philippines (CPP-NPA-NDFP) and the Moro Islamic Liberation FrontBangsamoro Islamic Auxiliary Force (MILF-BIAF). The basic premises of their respective armed
struggles are directly relevant for the study as these determine how they operate in the communities
where they have a presence.
The second part in turn discusses how communities are affected differently depending on whether
guerrilla warfare (by the CPP-NPA-NDFP) or more conventional positional warfare (by the MILFBIAF) is being waged. There are important corresponding differences not only in the nature of the
armed rebel groups’ operations but also in the government’s military response. There is a discussion of
recent trends in the intensity of armed conflict and its victims as a way of suggesting general directions
in the near-term. It also elaborates on how “armed conflict” and its effects can be meaningfully
understood beyond just the outbreak of hostilities and their direct effects on victims.
The third part presents how the communities themselves perceive armed conflict outside of the
outbreak of hostilities and its direct and indirect casualties. In particular, it focuses on communities’
perception of the armed groups in the conflict they are exposed to. The point that the country’s internal
wars have effects far beyond mere fighting is also explored and extended further.
The entire chapter seeks to provide perspectives on the armed conflict as a whole and as experienced
on the ground, against which succeeding chapters can be most productively read.
The major armed groups
The major revolutionary armed groups in the Philippines of the CPP-NPA-NDFP and MILF-BIAF both
assert continuity with long histories of armed struggle in the country that go back not just decades but
centuries. The radical change they espouse through armed struggle reflects the historical conditions of
colonization, poverty, inequality and marginalization whose effects are still being endured by
significant sectors of the Philippine population: landless peasants, exploited workers and marginalized
Muslims. Each claims to be the instruments of the liberation struggles of their respective declared
constituencies.
The Communist Party of the Philippines-New People’s Army-National Democratic Front of the
Philippines (CPP-NPA-NDFP)
Peasant and, later, worker movements have been a long-standing feature of Philippine history. There
were hundreds of spontaneous armed uprisings across the country throughout Spanish colonial rule.
These culminated in the Katipunan-led Philippine Revolution of 1896. However, efforts to realize an
independent Philippine nation were thwarted by the intervention and colonization of an ascendant and
expansionist United States (US). Nonetheless, nationalist peasant and worker uprisings continued in the
face of determined US attempts to crush all dissent and rebellion. The Partido Komunista ng Pilipinas
(PKP) was established in 1930 during American colonial rule.
The current armed struggle of the CPP-NPA-NDFP claims continuity with this narrative of struggle.
According to Amado Guerrero, founding CPP chairperson, the democratic demand of agrarian reform
and the nationalist demand to free the nation from neocolonial rule remain necessary to redress
enduring conditions of exploitation and oppression. The CPP was founded in Tarlac province, Central
Luzon on December 26, 1968 (the CPP also uses the term “re-establishment” to emphasize its
30
repudiation of the earlier PKP). The NPA in turn was established on March 29, 1969 with less than 60
fighters and only 34 firearms, just nine of which were high-powered rifles.
The CPP condemns the “semicolonial and semifeudal” character of present-day Philippine society in
which the Filipino people suffer from “foreign and feudal domination”.1 It says that it is currently
waging a “national democratic revolution” which, upon victory, will proceed to the “socialist
revolution”. The class lines of the struggle are clearly drawn. On one side is the “joint class dictatorship
of the comprador big bourgeoisie and the landlord class subservient to the foreign monopoly
bourgeoisie” and on the other the “basic oppressed classes [of] the working class and the peasantry”;
there is also the “intermediate social strata [of] the urban petty bourgeoisie and the middle or national
bourgeoisie”. The integral components of the “protracted people’s war” are also made explicit:
“revolutionary armed struggle, land reform and mass-base building”.
Significantly, the mainstream revolutionary Left does not conceive its struggle as waged merely by the
armed forces of the NPA. Rather, it also includes the “motive forces of the revolution” that are
organized to overthrow their class enemies: “the working class comprising about 15 percent of the
population; the peasantry, at least 75 percent; the urban petty bourgeoisie, about eight percent; and the
middle bourgeoisie, about one percent.”2 This is pertinent to the study at hand because this concept of a
mass-based struggle goes far in explaining the relationships the CPP-NPA-NDFP aims to build with
local communities through its land reform, health, education and other “mass campaigns”.
The 1970s was a decade of laying the foundations of an armed struggle that would prove resilient for
decades to come. Despite the declaration of Martial Law in 1972, the revolutionary armed Left
continued to expand nationwide. By the mid-1970s it had reached: the Cordilleras, Cagayan Valley,
Southern Tagalog and Bicol in Luzon; Negros and Samar islands in the Visayas; and Davao in
Mindanao. Consolidated guerrilla zones covering entire municipalities and, in some areas, even stable
guerrilla bases started to become more defined. The NDFP was formally established on April 24, 1973.
The period from the 1980s to around 1992 at first saw an intensification of the armed struggle. Fighting
in the countryside and the political struggle by progressive and Left forces in the cities combined to
bring the Marcos dictatorship down in 1986, by which time the NPA had some 6,100 high-powered
rifles. By the late 1980s, however, the NPA began to engage in military adventurism under a
framework of “strategic counter-offensive” (SCO) comprised largely of the premature regularization of
large military formations which engaged in ever-larger military actions in the countryside at the cost of
neglecting organizing work and building mass support.
Also within the SCO framework, the NPA engaged in reckless partisan operations in urban centers
even in the National Capital Region (NCR) and Metro Manila itself. These weaknesses were exploited
by the Aquino administration’s “Total War” implemented through consecutive military operational
plans reaching into the Ramos administration: Oplan Lambat Bitag I, II and III from 1989-1994.
Overall, by the start of the 1990s, the revolutionary movement had so diminished in intensity that the
Ramos administration declared “strategic victory” and turned over primary responsibility for counterinsurgency from the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) to the Philippine National Police (PNP).
The CPP, however, repudiated the SCO and other tactical “errors”, and from 1992-1998 conducted its
so-called “Second Great Rectification Movement”, or an essentially ideological campaign to reaffirm
the CPP-NPA-NDFP’s adherence to basic revolutionary principles. This was apparently successful and
the revolutionary armed Left grew steadily and gradually in the latter part of the 1990s. The cumulative
growth eventually led to a general acknowledgement that the government’s earlier declaration of
“strategic victory” was premature.
It appears that recent years have seen the resurgence of the revolutionary Left. The NPA identifies
three strategic phases in its armed struggle: defensive, stalemate and offensive. In early 2006 it reported
“approaching and developing the middle phase of the strategic defensive” as well as “operating in more
than 120 guerrilla fronts, which cover 800 municipalities in 70 out of 79 Philippine provinces”.3 Public
statements of defense officials and military officers of NPA strength tend to vary and estimates over
the period 2001-2005 ranged from some 8,000 to 11,000 troops armed with 6,000 to 8,000 highpowered rifles.
In any case, the AFP recognizes that the guerrilla fronts within which the NPA maneuvers have
31
reached beyond forest hinterlands and now cover large portions of the land area of entire provinces and
even regions, extending even to more populated areas and town centers.4 The CPP-NPA-NDFP also
claims to have created clandestine “organs of political power” in the countryside in the build-up to
eventual seizure of state power on a nationwide scale. All these have prompted the recent reaffirmation
by government officials that the armed revolutionary Left is the country’s greatest national security
threat, and calls by the Arroyo administration for “final blows” to it. Primary responsibility for counterinsurgency has been returned to the AFP and formal mechanisms have even been created for erstwhile
civilian social and economic projects to be much more closely coordinated with the military.
Meanwhile, peace talks between the Philippine government and the NDFP have remained stalled since
2004 amidst NDFP accusations of government non-compliance with previously agreed upon processes.
The Moro Islamic Liberation Front-Bangsamoro Islamic Auxiliary Force (MILF-BIAF)
At the turn of the last century, while the nationalist intelligentsia and disaffected peasants and workers
in the islands of Luzon and the Visayas fought the struggle for liberation against Spain, Muslimdominated Mindanao remained independent of colonial rule. Three-and-a-half centuries of Spanish
colonialism’s “Sword and Cross” strategy had failed to thoroughly colonize the islands, and Muslim
resistance particularly in the Sultanates of Maguindanao and Sulu remained strong. Moro warriors and
their families successfully frustrated Spanish attempts to subdue them and the colonizers were
restricted to limited enclaves of heavily fortified Spanish garrisons in the northern coastlines of
Mindanao. The MILF’s struggle today claims the legacy of protecting the ancestral domains of the
Moro sultanates.
Mindanao was included in the sale of the Philippine islands to the US by Spain in the 1898 Treaty of
Paris. But unlike the war of occupation that American troops fought against the Katipunan in the North,
the US initiated a Peace Treaty with the Sultanates through the help of the Caliph of Saudi Arabia.
Under the treaty the US paid allowances to the Sultans. US colonial rule saw the deepening of
encroachments into erstwhile Moro territories: US corporations gained control of vast tracts of land and
forests; and there was a purposeful effort to populate Mindanao with Christian settlers as a tactic to
quell Moro resistance.
Organized armed Moro resistance had begun at least as early as 1902, with Maranaos attacking a US
cavalry detachment near Cotabato. The resistance quickly escalated and the Americans responded with
a bloody campaign of repression. This included such incidents as the infamous 1906 Bud Dajo
massacre in Jolo where a thousand men, women and children holding their ground against US troops
were massacred. The last great Moro defiance was the battle of Bud Bagsak in 1912, where the
decisive US victory involved the killing of five hundred men, women and children.
The US succeeded where Spain had failed. It combined brutal “scorched earth” military tactics with
divisive policies of Moro elite cooptation – “dollar diplomacy” and courting selected quarters of the
Moro leadership with scholarships, foreign trips and domestic privileges – and the pseudo-benevolent
building of schools and hospitals.
In 1935, the Commonwealth government’s “Quirino-Recto Colonization Act” paved the way for the
massive and uncontrolled entry of settlers from Luzon and the Visayas where Mindanao was projected
as the new frontier and “the land of promise”. All these resulted in the massive displacement of Moro
people by corporations and Christian settlers who, through government sponsorship and land acts,
obtained land titles even for areas Moros had occupied for generations.
This situation did not change when the US passed on the reigns of governance of the entire country,
including Mindanao, to the Filipino elite after the Second World War. In the decades that followed, US
transnational corporations (TNCs) and the domestic elite retained their claims on and control of the
island’s resources. Settlers continued to be encouraged to go to the Mindanao frontier as part of official
state policy to contain growing peasant unrest in Luzon and the Visayas. It was only a matter of time
and circumstance before the Moros mustered their forces and once more waged armed resistance.5
The precipitating incident was the Jabidah Massacre of 1968 where around 28 Tausug youth being
trained by the Philippine military for a clandestine commando operation to annex Sabah were killed,
for still unclear reasons, when their mission was aborted. The Marcos regime was said to be eyeing the
rich resources of Sabah which was part of the Sultanate of Sulu (for which Malaysia continues to pay
32
rent to the Sultan) and still had extensive ties with the southern islands of Sulu. The massacre deeply
affected a generation of Moro students studying in the secular universities in Manila and Islamic
universities in Cairo, Egypt. Radicalized by the nationalist movements of the 1960s which coincided
with Egyptian Pan-Arabic assertions at the time, these young students were to lead the armed Moro
resistance in the next decades. The incident galvanized the Moro Independence Movement (MIM) and
the eventual coming together of 13 ethnolinguistic Islamized tribes into the Moro National Liberation
Front (MNLF) in 1969: the Tausug, Maguindanaon, Maranao, Iranon, Yakan, Samal, Kalagan,
Kalibugan, Molbog, Sangil, Palawani, Jama Mapun, and Badjao.
The MNLF and its military arm, the Bangsa Moro Army (BMA), began as an armed revolutionary
movement of the Moro people espousing the right to self-determination and, in particular, struggling
against the Philippine Republic and for the creation of an independent Bangsamoro homeland. The
Moro struggle has ever been an assertion of political and military control over territories in Mindanao
based on the premise of a historical Bangsamoro homeland with a strong Islamic tradition.
The MNLF leadership as represented by their two leaders, Nur Misuari and Hashim Salamat, reflected
the distinction between secular-nationalist and Islamic revivalist leanings within the MNLF. This
distinction would bear on the subsequent development of the Moro struggle in the years to come.
Fighting became fierce in Muslim Mindanao especially after the declaration of Martial Law in 1972
and casualties quickly reached tens of thousands. The MNLF entered into the Tripoli Agreement with
the Philippine government in 1976 under the prodding of the Organization of Islamic Countries (OIC);
this agreement would supposedly henceforth be the framework for resolving the basic Moro issues.
Fighting still went on sporadically for the next few years,but, more significantly, the agreement sparked
a rift in the Moro leadership and hierarchy. Ideological and organizational differences within the
MNLF eventually led to the formation of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) in 1984 headed by
then MNLF vice-chairman Salamat. The MILF built its armed camps and communities in mainland
Mindanao. The Bangsamoro Islamic Auxiliary Force (BIAF) was also formed. The MILF particularly
distinguished itself from the secular MNLF, under its chairman Misuari, by pushing the Islamic
character of the Moro struggle for a Bangsamoro homeland to the fore.
The MNLF had meanwhile accepted a Final Peace Agreement with the Philippine government in 1996
which involved political accommodation with the Philippine government. Prof. Misuari became the
governor of the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (ARMM) and chairman of the Southern
Philippines Council for Peace and Development (SPCPD), while the whole of the MNLF-BMA was
integrated in the AFP and the PNP. However mutual accusations of violations and non-implementation
of the agreement as well as allegations of corruption soon emerged in the years that followed.
Moreover, the Philippine government declared an “all-out war” against the Moro armed struggle in
2000 that gravely affected the communities of both the MILF and MNLF across Southern Mindanao.
The contemporary US-declared global war on terror has also renewed focus on armed Islamic groups
as a potential threat not just to the Philippine Republic but to US security as well. This has resulted in
renewed military offensives including the major 2003 AFP offensive against the MILF’s Buliok
Complex headquarters. Moro communities in Sulu and elsewhere have also been bombarded and
attacked under the pretext of military operations against the bandit Abu Sayyaf Group (ASG) and
Pentagon Gang.
Positional and guerrilla wars
Both the MILF-BIAF and CPP-NPA-NDFP begin from the premise that they are waging revolutionary
armed struggles in the interest of their declared constituencies. It is thus integral to their struggles to
politically mobilize the Bangsamoro people or the country’s oppressed and exploited classes,
respectively. Also essential to both is the approach of developing, cultivating and nurturing their
respective geographic areas and communities of influence. These territories and the people within them
thus become very much exposed not only to the revolutionary movements but also to the political work
of the MILF or the NPA. The rebel armed groups have evidently built up much influence through the
years and these areas have become areas of contention vis-à-vis the established Philippine state which
responds with counter-insurgency operations.
33
When “war” or “armed conflict” visit these communities it is concretely in the form of fighting –
shootings, bombings and the like within or near their boundaries – and the presence of the armed
groups involved. A significant factor underlying differences in the impact of armed conflict on the
vulnerabilities and capacities of communities is whether guerrilla or positional wars are being waged.
The MNLF and the MILF have been oriented to a combination of more conventional positional warfare
and armed uprising by Moro communities. The NPA on the other hand has from the beginning waged
mobile guerrilla warfare, even allowing for fine-tuning following early experiments with developing
mountain strongholds. The military response by state forces has differed accordingly.
The MILF’s positional tactic of setting up sprawling camps is consistent with its secessionist demands
and laying claim over territories; its objective is to establish a genuinely autonomous Bangsamoro
Republic through decolonization of these areas from the Christian-dominated and Manila-based
Philippine government. By the year 2000, the MILF for instance had 13 major fixed camps and 33
secondary ones – although it has since apparently been forced to shift to a more guerrilla mode, albeit
still using field base camps that are just more remote or hidden than before.6 Camp Abu Bakr alone has
been reported to cover some 100 square kilometers straddling six towns in two provinces; it was selfsufficient with small businesses, public markets and agricultural lots as well as a system of government
based on Shariah law.7 With concealed support from groups in Arab nations, the MILF is well-trained
and well-equipped with arms, including artillery and reportedly even surface-to-air missiles, and it has
used these to defend what they have openly declared as MILF territories.8
Yet these fixed communities-cum-camps are susceptible to conventional battles and, most recently in
2000 and 2003, became the targets of massive AFP military operations including air strikes, bombings
and artillery bombardments. The AFP is also predisposed to large-scale conventional warfare against
the MILF-BIAF because of its essentially “outsider” status in closely-knit Moro communities and,
especially, in clearly circumscribed MILF camps-cum-communities. This means difficulties in free
entry and exit as well as in establishing any kind of long-term and sustained presence. As might be
expected, AFP use of its full logistical superiority in sieges of MILF fixed bases has resulted in civilian
casualties and large-scale displacements to evacuation centers at regular intervals.
This is not the situation with the CPP-NPA-NDFP whose declared guerrilla fronts, zones and bases are
amorphous in the way they overlap with established Philippine territories. Their strategy of “protracted
people’s war” (PPW) in “guerrilla fronts” has provoked a very different response from the AFP. The
armed revolutionary Left generally has no long-term fixed bases as the MILF does and its forces are
essentially perpetually mobile, shifting from forest or mountain encampments to the communities that
it deems part of its ever-expanding mass base. NPA forces are also spread across the archipelago and
its basic military formations are mostly platoon- size formations of around thirty fighters that operate in
areas covering two to three (2-3) municipalities depending on the terrain. In addition they are often
occupied with organizing work and other relatively invisible non-military activities: health, education,
cultural and socioeconomic projects, collective labor arrangements, and arbitrating in intra-community
conflicts. NPA officials in the field say that their rule of thumb is “90 percent mass work and 10
percent military work”.
The AFP tactic against the NPA’s people’s war is “low-intensity conflict” (LIC) which combines
military means with political, economic and psychological-informational-propaganda warfare in an
integrated counter-insurgency (COIN) package. LIC acknowledges that the contending parties to the
armed conflict effectively compete in the same territorial and community space, unlike in conventional
warfare where battle lines and fronts are more clearly drawn. It also acknowledges that the NPA relies
on the voluntary participation of communities for logistical support and for new fighters where its room
to maneuver is critically dependent on how much of this is forthcoming.
Nevertheless, LIC remains a fundamentally military tactic and, for all the supposed stress on bringing
the struggle to the plane of competing principles and ideologies as well as providing development
alternatives, it has proven to easily degenerate into a thin veil for abusive state military and
paramilitary forces. This has been the experience with LIC not just in the Philippines but also in other
similar localized conflicts across Asia, Latin America and to a lesser degree Africa.
Having no large fixed NPA encampments to target, the AFP and its paramilitaries have taken to
continuous combat patrols and maintaining a presence in communities though military detachments or
34
outposts. Actual fighting has also largely tended towards small-scale ambuscades, raids and sniping by
the NPA which means much lower incidences of physical displacements and evacuations compared to
displacements due to positional fighting in MILF areas. However, the current research finds that LIC
against the NPA seems to have been accompanied by purposeful and often violent efforts by state
forces to undermine or discourage civilian support for the NPA who operate largely unseen.
Counter-insurgency and civilians
Given the on-going guerrilla war of the NPA and the apparent shift towards guerrilla mode on the part
of the MILF – following the attacks on its major camps in 2000 and 2003 (although there is a mutual
ceasefire in place since July 2003) – it is important to pay special attention to how the state’s counterinsurgency approach against guerrillas treats non-combatant civilians. A textual analysis of official
AFP documents on military strategy and tactics tends to indicate that the distinction between
combatants and civilian noncombatants is not just blurred but explicitly disregarded. Unless there is a
radical change in core AFP doctrines, this disturbingly points to continuing, and, given recent
declarations of intensified attacks on the NPA, ever greater numbers of civilian victims of military
operations in the near future.9
Overall frameworks. The Philippine government has a National Security Strategy, National Military
Strategy and a National Internal Security Plan. The mission and responsibilities these define are
implemented, in the 2002-2007 period, through the Internal Security Operations (ISO) plan called
Oplan Bantay Laya (OBL). OBL identifies the “Communist Terrorist Movement” (CTM) or “local
Communist movement” (LCM) as “the main threat to national security” and aims to “decisively
defeat” this in the medium-term by “[dismantling] its politico-military structures”.10
Among OBL’s operational concepts is the Clear-Hold-Support methodology where the “clear” and
“hold” phases are particularly relevant to the study at hand. The “clear” phase “involves the conduct of
combat, intelligence and psychological operations as a separate weapon system to decisively defeat the
NPA and launch organizational special operations team (SOT) operations to dismantle the CPP
politico-military structure.”11 The “hold” phase “involves the utilization of the territorial defense forces
to limit the freedom of action and movement, resources and mass base support of the LCM to prevent
their incursion and its resurgence in the barangays.” 12 These appear to stress what are essentially
civilian targets (i.e. political structures, mass base support).
Also pertinent is the OBL operational concept of organizing paramilitary groups and vigilantes under
the Integrated Territorial Defense Systems (ITDS) involving “the utilization of the Civilian Armed
Force Geographical Units Active Auxiliary (CAA), Civilian Volunteers Organization (CVO) and other
anti-communist barangay base organizations.” 13 Paramilitiaries have often been scored for poor
disciplinary standards. Finally, the “territorial offensive” phase is when “mobile forces clear organized
enemy resistance.” 14
AFP doctrines clearly understand the CPP politico-military or political infrastructure to be communitybased and distinct from the NPA military forces. At the same time, it also seems that despite such a
civilian and non-combatant character the AFP entertains the use of lethal military force against them.
AFP-PNP operational guidelines for instance regard the “CTM’s political infrastructure [as] dismantled
as a result of… the identification and neutralization of the leaders and members” of the following
formations, all of which are civilian and unarmed: People’s Organizing Committee (POC), People’s
Organizing Group (POG), Party Group, Solid Mass Association (MASSO), Komiteng
Balangay/Grupong Balangay and Local Party Branch.15 It is moreover made explicit that: “The term
‘neutralization’ means preventing the dissident terrorists from accomplishing their objective of seizing
state power through violent means. The process of neutralization can be effected through killing,
capture, apprehension, surrender, conviction or exposure.”16
The AFP also acknowledges the civilian character of community support structures elsewhere when it
says: “The insurgent gets the majority of his logistical support from the population.”17 An official AFP
publication has been even more specific: “In areas where NDF organizations cannot be fully
established Bayan Muna, on the pretext of being a political party, successfully established party
organizations, which later can be transformed into a Communist Terrorist Movement (CTM) politicomilitary infrastructure.”18 Among the recommendations is that: “SOT operations should include
identification and neutralization of Bayan Muna members in the barangay.” Yet Bayan Muna is a duly
35
registered national political party which currently has the maximum three seats possible for any single
party-list group in the House of Representatives.
The AFP also allegedly required the “conduct [of] an extensive research on Sectoral and NDF Front
Organizations” where “the output of the target research on a sector will be subjected to a sectoral/front
organization Order of Battle (OB).”19 There is moreover purportedly a letter which advises: “Extreme
caution, however, should be observed, as the objects and subjects of this undertaking are mostly legal
organizations duly recognized not only by the local community or public at large, but also by the
National Government itself.”20 The Leyte case study of the research in particular may be taken as
illustrating what these alleged documents can mean in practice.
Indicators of “the enemy”. Many of the indicators that state forces officially use for identifying
“dissident terrorist” (DT)-threatened or -affected (i.e. either infiltrated or influenced) are conspicuously
unrelated to combatant or armed activity. These include the following: 21
For a “DT-Threatened Barangay”:
•
•
•
•
“Initial mass struggles such as pickets and petitions have been launched”
“[Health and human rights groups] usually visit the barangay and conduct relief and
rehabilitation works and extend medical services to the local populace.”
“The barangay is the site of military operations where some residents evacuated and
the military/police are accused of abuses.”
“The unusual disappearance of bad undesirable elements in the barrio.”
For a “DT-Infiltrated Barangay”:
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
“At least 10% of the barrio folks participate in party-initiated mass mobilizations
such as rallies and demonstrations to denounce military6 [sic] abuses, human rights
violations and other sectoral/local concerns.”
“Staging of cultural shows/plays with political undertones…”
“Unusual/unexplained gatherings of the barangay populace.”
“The adult population in the barangay are [sic] becoming interested in socioeconomic and political issues, both local and national.”
“Landlords/Plantation or hacienda owners started to become lenient with their
workers/laborers.”
“The sale of intoxicating liquor is being regulated and gambling is likewise being
minimized.”
“Unusual or increased travel of adult residents into remote or isolated areas within
the barangay.”
“Proliferation or circulation of anti-government or subversive leaflets/publications.”
“Singing of revolutionary songs.”
“Cooperatives not initiated by Local Government Units (LGU’s) and/or Line
Government Agencies (LGA’s) started to get organized.”
“Medical practitioners (not affiliated with local health council) regularly visit the
place and teach the people of the [sic] first aid, acupuncture and herbal medicine.”
For a “DT-Influenced Barangay”:
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
“At least 25% of the barrio folks participate in party-initiated mass mobilizations
such as rallies and demonstrations to denounce military6 [sic] abuses, human rights
violations and other sectoral/local concerns.”
“Indifferent attitude of the populace towards the local officials, AFP/PNP and key
communicators in the community.”
“Refusal to pay taxes instead DT progressive taxation scheme is being implemented.”
“Refusal by tenants/peasants to pay rents to their landlords.”
“Unexplained disappearance of the youth and able-bodied residents.”
“Refusal by the populace for the establishment of military detachment/checkpoint in
the community as well as to accept military police assistance during fiestas, benefit
dance and similar occasions.”
“Semblance of curfew and price control in the barangay and absence of liquor and
other intoxicating drinks.”
36
•
•
•
•
“Establishment or discovery of new and unusual agricultural areas or communal
farms.”
“Participation of the barangay populace in mass mobilizations and protests in urban
or town centers to air grievances against the government and denounce alleged
AFP/PNP abuses.”
“Increase [sic] group discussions on socio-economic, political and cultural issues,
both local and national.”
“The local residents give voluntary material and financial support to the DTs.”
Many of these indicators pertain to what development and civil society groups would in fact consider
as desirable signs of empowerment and, indeed, of improved community well-being. Some are also
alarmingly self-serving, with state forces being conditioned to be suspicious of any unfriendliness
towards them.
The official AFP strategy against terrorism likewise seems to consider everyone suspected of
associating with alleged terrorists – even unarmed civilians – as legitimate military targets. The AFP
Military Strategy for Combating Terrorism identifies the NPA as a terrorist group “[enjoying a wide
and deep] range of support from various sectors aside from its mass base, even within the
government.”22 The same document identifies each NPA support element as a “potential node or
critical vulnerability [that after identification] would be the focus of preemption or swift and decisive
retaliation since such attacks would hurt the enemy the most. If the latter proves resilient, the attacks
would be sustained until the terrorists are neutralized and their support structure dismantled. Whether
through a single strike or a succession of blows, the important thing to consider is to hit the critical
node or nodes.” This approach intentionally “seeks to strike the enemy where, when and how he is
most vulnerable, physically and psychologically.”
A very high-ranking military official associated with human rights abuses in his areas of deployment –
which includes two areas of the current study, Mindoro Oriental and Leyte – has already openly said:
“There should not anymore be political activities like demonstrations, organizing people, fooling
people, [and] joining NGOs that we know are really nothing.” (Wala na dapat mga political activities
like demonstrations, pag-oorganisa ng mga tao, panloloko sa tao, sumama sa mga NGO na alam
naman natin na wala naman talagang yan.)23
The apparent intensification of counter-insurgency operations against the CPP-NPA-NDFP in the last
few years also coincides with the AFP positing: “It is high time to put into play an end-game strategy
that will terminate this lingering problem.”24
Counter-insurgency practice. The sum of these textual references suggests that the mounting adverse
effects of military operations by state forces on civilians are not merely inadvertent (or “collateral
damage”) but deliberate – they are purposeful and aimed at attacking whatever is perceived by the
military as civilian support for its enemies. This is consistent with the apparent emerging pattern
especially since 2001 of violent and even lethal attacks nationwide against civilians, including women
and children (i.e. local community residents as well as leaders and members of people’s organizations,
NGOs and Leftist political parties).
These have already drawn the attention of various international groups. The Office of the United
Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights in 2003 “[expressed] concern regarding reported cases
of extrajudicial killings, arbitrary detention, harassment, intimidation and abuse, including of detainees,
many of whom are women and children, that have neither been investigated nor prosecuted,” adding
that, “such a situation is conducive to perpetration of further violations of human rights and to a culture
of impunity.”25
The US State Department in March 2006 noted: “arbitrary, unlawful, and extrajudicial killings by
elements of the security services; and political killings, including killings of journalists, by a variety of
actors, which often go unpunished.” 26 It also observed: “disappearances… harassment of some human
rights and left-wing political activists by local military and police forces [and] use of excessive force
and other abuses in internal conflicts.” Amnesty International (AI) likewise found that: “The number of
attacks on leftist activists and community workers rose sharply [in 2005].” 27 It said that, aside from
suspected CPP-NPA members, “those most at risk included members of legal leftist political parties,
including Bayan Muna (People First) and Anakpawis (Toiling Masses), other human rights and
37
community activists, priests, church workers and lawyers regarded by the authorities as sympathetic to
the broader communist movement.”
In the Philippines, the Commission on Human Rights (CHR) has “conducted investigations relating to
the systematic killings committed” and said that it “totally detests this inhuman practice of summary
execution committed against our helpless brothers especially those who belong to Bayan Muna, Anak
Pawis (sic), Gabriella (sic) and other allied organizations [whose groups are considered legitimate
under Philippine Laws].”28 It adds that, based on its investigations, “most of the perpetrators are
perceived to belong to the military and/or paramilitary arms of the government. The Catholic Bishops
Conference of the Philippines (CBCP) has also expressed alarm at “[the killings and abductions of]
activists, leftist-militants, journalists, defenders of the poor suspected as communists,” and declared, “It
is not right that people be killed simply because they have different ‘political beliefs’ or are suspected
of being ‘subversive’ or of plotting against the government.”29
The present study itself has found substantial anecdotal evidence on the ground of state forces treating
civilians harshly, and collected secondary data from in-house monitoring and human rights
organizations. Unfortunately the observation has already been made regarding “a general failure to
make military wrongdoers accountable for their misdeeds, tending to reinforce a sense of power by the
military as an institution and a sense of impunity among some officers.”30 Although written in the
context of identifying factors contributing to the retention of the military’s power and influence in
Philippine politics and society, the underlying premise of lack of accountability is pertinent to the
current study.
Hostilities in the study’s research areas
All the research areas are sites of active armed conflict. In particular they have all experienced military
operations in the last five years which have had adverse impacts on the communities. The
circumstances behind these military operations have varied. In four of the CPP-NPA-NDFP-influenced
areas, guerrilla “tactical offensives” immediately drew attention to the presence of the NPA in the area
and resulted in aggressive military pursuit operations (Abra, Capiz, Surigao del Sur, Compostela
Valley). In the case of Abra the pursuit operations actually resulted in another round of fighting. In
Mindoro Oriental, a high-profile CPP-NPA-NDFP activity was the precipitating event which resulted
in fighting. In the case of Leyte there was no single triggering event, but military operations were
programmatic and sustained. The two MILF-BIAF-influenced communities in North Cotabato and
Mindanao were both swept into fighting by the first AFP attacks on major MILF camps.
The incidents of fighting in four of the NPA-influenced areas have been in relatively outlying trails and
roads or in forests away from residents (Abra, Capiz, Leyte and Compostela Valley); in another area
the fighting was nearer populated village centers and homes (Surigao del Sur). On the other hand,
severe fighting in the MILF-influenced areas invariably occurred in the villages themselves resulting in
large-scale displacements (North Cotabato, Maguindanao). The impact of fighting on children and
women has been more severe the more intense, frequent and closer the battles were to their
communities.
The intensity of AFP military combat operations against the NPA and MILF in the communities visited
by the research varied. This was reflective of the differences between AFP responses to guerrilla and
positional warfare. AFP military operations are invariably larger and longer in the case of attacks on
fixed positions. The residents in the various areas have estimated these to involve anywhere from about
a dozen soldiers to some 400-500 soldiers entering on foot, in jeeps and trucks, or with armored
personnel carriers. Sometimes these operations were backed by fighter planes, helicopter gunships and
artillery fire. The soldiers sometimes encamped in forested areas far from residents, but also stayed in
village centers and homes. Their visible presence in the communities lasted anywhere from a few hours
during the day to as long as 3-5 months, even as there have been cases of residents monitoring secret
military operations in the outskirts of their villages.
But community respondents also shared their perceptions of other motives behind military operations
outside of any immediately precipitating incident. The military’s entry has for instance been regarded
as clearing operations to pave the way for disadvantageous “development projects” in the community.
There were respondents in almost all the research areas – Abra, Capiz, Surigao del Sur, Compostela
38
Valley, North Cotabato and Maguindanao, with the exception of Mindoro Oriental and Leyte – who
said they noticed the parallel entry of mining explorations and military forces into their communities.
Trends
The study covers the period 2001-2005. IBON monitored 1,061 armed confrontations between AFP
and all the various armed groups for an average of 0.6 armed confrontations per day during the period.
By armed group involved, the confrontations numbered 730 NPA, 161 MILF, six MNLF, and 166
ASG. Though increasing in number over the period covered, this fighting was still relatively sporadic
and scattered, considering the breadth of the areas in which these armed groups are present. In the case
of the NPA, for instance, the 730 armed confrontations monitored by IBON based on newspaper and
other media reports implies an average of just 1.2 incidents per guerrilla front per year (assuming 120
guerrilla fronts). Using AFP data cited in the Philippine Human Development Report (PHDR) of 2005,
the corresponding figure is a still relatively low 6.7 armed incidents per guerrilla front per year (20012004). Less quantifiable but anecdotally observed is how counter-insurgency operations are also
intensifying.
Still per IBON data, armed confrontations between the AFP and the NPA have been increasing since
2003, particularly intensifying in 2005 (see Table 1). Armed confrontations with the MILF (and indeed
with the MNLF/ASG) have been decreasing since 2003 (see Table 2). There were 343 civilian
casualties in all the armed encounters monitored (199 killed and 144 wounded). It is relevant that
during the period covered the Government of the Republic of the Philippines (GRP)-NDFP peace talks
were suspended in 2004 while the GRP-MILF talks continued.
By armed group involved, there were 42 killed and 50 wounded (NPA), 82+ killed and 24 wounded
(MILF), 12 killed and none wounded (MNLF), and 63 killed and 70 wounded (ASG). Some ratios
highlight differences particularly between the NPA’s type of guerrilla warfare and that of the other
armed groups:
• The ratio of civilian casualties to armed confrontations is lowest in the case of the NPA (1:8)
followed by the MILF (1:5), MNLF (1:2) and ASG (1:1).
• The ratio of civilian to combatant casualties is lowest in the case of the NPA (1:28) followed
by the MILF (1:11), MNLF (1:5) and ASG (1:8).
Specifically in the eight provinces covered by the research, the AFP had 89 armed confrontations with
the NPA (with five civilian casualties) and 87 armed confrontations with the MILF (with seven civilian
casualties).
39
Table 1: Armed Confrontations between the New People’s Army (NPA) and government forces
KILLED
WOUNDED
CAPTURED
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
90
198
80
10
66 +
undetermined #
32
29
25
1
-
2002
55
95
37
7
14
38
22
-
2003
130
150 +
undetermined#
242
7
55 +
undetermined #
127
15
2
-
2004
157
151
209
5
11 +
undetermined #
166 +
undetermined #
11
17
3
-
2005
298
103 +
undetermined #
455 +
undetermined #
13
23 +
undetermined #
280 +
undetermined #
10
26
-
-
Total
730
697 +
undetermined #
1,023 +
undetermined #
42
169 +
undetermined #
643 +
undetermined #
50
105
6
DATE
Incidents
2001
AFP - Armed Forces of the Philippines
PNP - Philippine National Police
CAFGU - Civilian Armed Forces Geographical Unit
Source: Various publications monitored by IBON Databank
40
Table 2: Armed Confrontations between the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) and government forces
KILLED
DATE
Incidents
2001
WOUNDED
CAPTURED
MILF
AFP/PNP/CAF
GU
CIVILIAN
MILF
AFP/PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
MILF
AFP/PNP/CA
FGU
CIVILIAN
55
75
35
21
31
31
15
-
-
-
2002
7
5+
undetermined #
2
14
3+
undetermined #
4
10
-
-
2003
82
341 +
undetermined #
226
47 +
undetermined #
68 +
undetermined #
191
9
6
7
-
2004
8
4
3
-
4
6
-
1
-
-
2005
9
60 +
undetermined #
13
-
5+
undetermined #
2
-
-
-
-
Total
161
485 +
undetermined #
279
82 +
undetermined #
111 +
undetermined #
234
24
17
7
-
41
The most frequently monitored civilian victims of armed conflict are those affected by direct exposure
to actual combat – i.e., those caught in the crossfire during battles or internally displaced persons
(IDPs) as a result of the outbreak of hostilities.
The number of direct civilian casualties from fighting has already been noted. In terms of IDPs,
Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) records of displacement show a total of
1,025,436 IDPs in the period 2001-2005, almost 70 percent of whom were in the mainly Muslim
ARMM and Region IX.31 (See Table 3) The Global IDP Database in turn estimates 908,000 IDPs over
the same period.32 The Citizen’s Disaster Response Center (CDRC) monitored 871,656 victims of
displacement due to militarization in the period 2001-2004.33
The experience of IDPs reached by the research team varied in terms of the number displaced, the
length of displacement, and the circumstances. In terms of length of displacement these lasted up to:
eleven days (Surigao del Sur), two weeks (Compostela Valley), about a year (North Cotabato), running
up to eight months so far at the time of field research (Leyte), and nearly five years (Maguindanao).
Displacement in the Muslim areas has involved large numbers of civilians. The 2003 AFP offensive on
the MILF’s Buliok Complex displaced close to 50,000 civilians from the North Cotabato town visited
by the research team.34 It has in turn been estimated that 15,590 civilians were displaced from the town
of the Maguindano research site during the Estrada administration’s “all-out war” in 2000. On the other
hand, respondents in Surigao del Sur estimated that three months of intense military operations
displaced some 3,900 individuals from indigenous communities surrounding the forest and agricultural
area of Andap Valley.
The military operation following an NPA ambush in Compostela Valley displaced some 500 families.
The evacuations from the Moro areas have been more clearly about moving civilians away from MILF
camps and their vicinity to relatively safer havens, either immediately before or during the opening
salvoes of a large-scale military offensive. In the case of Surigao del Sur and Compostela Valley,
however – where there was little evidence of fighting in the village centers themselves and, to judge by
residents’ accounts, no NPA-initiated armed engagements amidst civilians – the forced evacuations
seemed aimed at denying NPA forces their bases of community support as part of counter-insurgency
operations. The chronologies of events in these two research areas tend to indicate that the
displacement was the culmination of an increasingly militarized condition.
Another main difference in IDP circumstances is between the Leyte bakwit (or evacuees) and those of
the other provinces. The estimated 200-250 Leyte bakwit (or an estimated 45-50 families) left their
community family-by-family over a span of six months to escape perceived military attacks against
them, and not en masse following a major battle. The research team was able to approach only those
families scattered in and around the National Capital Region (NCR) – i.e. Montalban, Pasig, Payatas
and Caloocan in NCR or in Cavite and Batangas provinces – at the time of data-gathering.
Interviews with church and human rights workers indicate that the phenomenon of “invisible” evacuees
also occurs at different periods in other provinces affected by armed conflict, although these could not
be directly monitored by the research team. This disorganized and dispersed but nonetheless steady
stream of civilians forced to move away from their sources of livelihood, relatives and communities to
escape political persecution has been occurring since the 1970s but, it seems, has swelled in the last
five years.
Counter-insurgency victims
Compared to IDPs, not as many civilians alleged to be supporting or joining the armed groups are
affected at any one time in the course of military counter-insurgency operations. The phenomenon
nonetheless deserves attention because it seems to be a distinct feature of the military response to the
protracted guerrilla war being waged by, in particular, the CPP-NPA-NDFP. Fighting frequently
happens in sites relatively distant from the communities although military operations also seek to
undermine civilian support for the NPA. The relatively dispersed incidence and low-intensity of these
cases make them “invisible” to the media and other observers. It is also difficult to get precise
information on these incidents as they tend to occur in remote rural communities and many go
42
unreported and undocumented. However it is important to get an idea of the pervasiveness of the
phenomenon and it is still possible to get a sense of the situation with the data at hand.
If we take the number of apparent killings of unarmed civilians tagged as “supporters” or “fronts” of
the rebel groups as a rough proxy, there were more civilian deaths outside of armed encounter incidents
than are caught in the crossfire during encounters. For the 2001-2005 period, the independent human
rights group Karapatan recorded 596 killings of unarmed civilians nationwide that were alleged to be
related to the AFP counter-insurgency program; 52 of those killed were under 18 years old, and 63
were women. This is three times the 199 civilians killed in the crossfire during encounters between the
AFP and the various armed groups. There is an alarming increase in these figures in the first half of
2006, when Karapatan recorded 113 killings, of which five (5) of those killed were under 18 years old
and 12 were women.
The situation is worse in the case of casualties from assassinations among legal Leftist groups. The
number of civilian activists, leaders and members of mass organizations tagged as “Communist fronts”
who were allegedly killed by state forces during the 2001-2005 period (239 people) is over five times
the number of civilians killed in the crossfire during AFP-NPA encounters (42 people). The Leftist
political party Bayan Muna alone suffered 81 deaths among its leaders and members in that same
period – with the total reaching 113 deaths by mid-2006.35
Karapatan also monitored some 35,941 individual victims of violations of the right to life (resulting in
deaths or injury) and some 54,952 individual victims of threats, harassment, intimidation, and illegal
arrest/detention in the 2001-2005 period. This was out of a reported total of 4,992 cases of human
rights violations affecting 283,097 individuals and 34,961 families in 420 communities.
The Children’s Rehabilitation Center (CRC) in turn reported 819 incidents of human rights violations
involving children as victims from 2001 to April 2005. These cases included 142 victims of killings, 24
victims of physical assault, 775 victims of threats, harassment and intimidation, and 112 victims of
arbitrary arrest and illegal detention. There were 75 children orphaned when their parents were killed.
CRC also estimates that 45 percent of the direct victims were 15 years old or younger.
The detailed records of Bayan Muna also provide some indication of the effect of the ongoing conflict
on children and women. Eighty-three (83) Bayan Muna leaders or members were killed in the fiveyear-period from April 2001 to March 2006. Of this total, 13 were women, one of whom was seven
months pregnant. Also out of the total, 41 were married males survived by their wives, with an average
of around 3-4 children; only six did not have children. Out of the 41 married males killed, at least 18
were killed or abducted in front of their wives and/or children.
The CHR does not distinguish its documented incidents of human rights violations according to
whether they occurred in an armed conflict situation or not. In any case, over the period 2001-2005, the
CHR tallied 1,045 cases of human rights violations allegedly perpetrated by military and paramilitary
forces, versus 264 allegedly committed by the CPP-NPA – or a ratio of 4:1.36
The number of killings and other cases of alleged human rights violations has been increasing over the
last five years, particularly in the last two years (since 2004). The research team found numerous
accounts of alleged military abuses to support these aggregate figures. To give a rough idea of how
many of the respondents were so affected, out of the 125 child FGD participants in the study (based on
the accomplished profile forms):
•
•
•
•
•
11 percent were victims of direct physical attack;
25 percent were victims of threat or harassment;
73 percent had family members who were victims of physical attack, threat or harassment;
74 percent were physically displaced and 80 percent were economically displaced due to
military operations; and
97 percent said they were fearful of the military (referring to state military forces).
The corresponding figures for the 123 women FGD participants are:
•
•
7 percent were victims of direct physical attack;
24 percent were victims of threat or harassment;
43
•
•
•
48 percent had family members who were victims of physical attack, threat or harassment;
51 percent were physically displaced and 63 percent were economically displaced due to
military operations; and
89 percent said they were fearful of the military (referring to state military forces).
44
Table 3: Number of Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) and Casualties by Year of Occurrence
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
TOTAL
REGION
Total
No. of IDPs
Killed
Injured
No. of IDPs
Killed
Injured
No. of IDPs
Killed
Injured
No. of IDPs
Killed
Injured
No. of IDPs
Killed
Injured
No. of IDPs
Killed
Injured
285,397
71
91
47,286
74
127
46,810
284
227
52,226
20
21
178,716
34
34
1,025,435
483
500
283
8
4
283
8
4
248,990
57
6
530,962
111
94
1,002
-
-
618
22
3
16,468
7
6
1,664
6
8
CAR
ARMM
88,990
11
57
6,132
38
26
40,741
4
146,109
CARAGA
1
5
1,002
III
588
9
3
IV - A
(CALABARZON)*
1,664
6
V
114
VII
528
2
VIII
144,572
54
X
246
4
XI
18,206
2
XII
33,383
15
7,779
12
13
16,468
7
6
8
IV - B (MIMAROPA)*
IX
30
11
617
4
10
617
4
10
901
3
7
1,015
3
7
1,327
3
1,855
5
-
3,994
1
3,994
1
-
10,289
40
38
162,640
106
64
55,040
41
33
55,286
45
33
23,315
24
36
225,716
141
235
1
3,019
5
14
1,710
15
10
130
2
11
250
18
28,692
13
68
145,498
123
136
10,125
2
7
8,018
2
6
Legend: * Total for Region IV-A & IV-B
Source: DSWD
45
Communities and the armed groups
The communities visited by the research team have all had long histories of armed conflict and have
been affected in different ways. The MILF-influenced areas most closely approximate the stereotype of
“war-torn” communities with much physical damage, casualties and long-term displacement from
fighting. These occur on a much lesser scale in NPA-influenced areas where “low intensity war” has
been the government response to guerrilla warfare. But this study observed how the LIC approach of
state military forces apparently operates in a mode of intelligence-gathering, interrogations, abductions,
threats, harassment and selective assassination that affect children and women in various ways and
which engender various forms of human rights abuses.
However, there is also another factor observed in NPA-influenced areas that affects how hostilities,
displacements and military operations disrupt community and family lives. It appears that NPA
activities are not limited to “tactical offensives”, which occur somewhat sporadically, but include
various local health, education, cultural, propaganda and other campaigns. The AFP indeed
acknowledges as much when it drew up the indicators cited earlier of NPA “-threatened” or “-affected”
barangays which have little to do with military aspects as such.
All these form part of the picture of communities’ situation and needs and are relevant to the study at
hand. In addition they also provide critical insight into the motivations underpinning community
support for the NPA, including the phenomenon of children and youth wishing to join the armed
struggle.
Overall context
The CPP-NPA-NDFP and MILF-BIAF operate largely in poor rural areas, and we can highlight some
material conditions which affect how residents perceive armed conflict and the presence of combatants
in their communities.
Generally speaking, the communities are economically backward with poor livelihood opportunities.
The larger the local disparities in economic and political power, the more oppressive and exploitative
are local farming, labor and commercial arrangements. Exploitation can be very high even in more
productive agricultural areas. Government education and health services are thin at the national level
and even scarcer in these remote grassroots communities. In such circumstances the major organized
armed groups can fill vital gaps in social and economic services, even if only partially, given their
limited resources. These enable them to build and cement their relations with locals. In time the
community residents and the armed groups become intertwined especially when locals join the latter in
increasing numbers.
At the personal level, community residents are particularly sensitive to any violence inflicted on them
whether happening recently or many years ago. They are also sensitive to how they are spoken to, how
their homes and properties are treated, and how cultural practices and even simple local standards of
decorum are respected. They use this accumulation of experiences to sift through any propaganda and
discern, sooner or later, what factors have positive or negative effects on their well-being.
This is the overall context in which locals form their perceptions of the NPA, MILF and AFP. The
communities have formed attitudes towards each of the armed groups on the basis of concrete personal
and collective experiences not only recently but in the course of some three decades. The following
accounts are based on the views that respondents articulated and shared especially during FGDs.
Community perceptions
Understanding conflict means achieving an awareness of the relationship of communities with those
armed groups. It is clear that community residents distinguish between the different armed groups and
that their reaction to them varies. The presence of armed men and women in their villages per se is not
the primary concern. It is how these groups relate to them that matters. Children and women have
perceived the NPA and the MILF as providing concrete benefits for the communities, as defending
their interests and as being respectful of them. It has for instance elsewhere already been observed: “In
fairness to the CPP-NPA’s historical record of armed struggle, it has not, as a policy – and has not
generally in practice – engaged in terrorism or acts of terrorism by deliberately targeting civilians.”37
46
On the other hand there appears to be a more or less generalized apprehension about the presence of
government soldiers. Although there were those who did express anxiety at the presence of the NPA or
MILF, this was more out of fear that government soldiers may arrive and fighting might suddenly erupt
in their midst rather than out of fear of these armed groups.
Negative experiences have factored prominently in the collective consciousness of the communities
even if these happened years or even decades ago. State forces are at an immediate disadvantage
because past atrocities still weigh heavily on many communities: massacres, murders, assassinations,
rape, theft of livestock and produce, forced evacuations, permanent displacements, bombings, and
destroyed communities. Merely neutral military behavior at present is insufficient to overcome the
villagers’ memories of terrible events in the past while even the slightest aggression – and especially,
of course, serious aggression – is immediately taken as confirming how little things have changed.
For instance, the height of the Moro uprising and massive suppression by the Marcos military in the
1970s still stand today as a watershed in the Moro collective consciousness. Memories of war, abuse,
and injustice were easily recalled and invoked by FGD participants in North Cotabato and
Maguindanao. Unfortunately, these events were essentially repeated two decades later in 1998, 2000
and 2003 even as the Moro peoples’ political and economic marginalization continues.
State military forces remain at a disadvantage even if they conduct community welfare projects
because these are seen as being implemented not for their own sake but rather as part of counterinsurgency with the objective of weaning communities away from their support for the NPA or MILF.
On more than one occasion respondents remarked that the only reason the military went to their village
in the first place and, for example, started conducting medical missions was because they knew the
NPA was active in the area (Mindoro Oriental). It also emerged during the parents FGD in Abra, for
instance, that communities distinguish between the military and the NPA presence: “The [Army] major
said that they would stop their operations if the NPA also stopped theirs. But we told him that the NPA
does not have operations and it’s only the military that has operations because the NPA just gives
medical [help].” (Sinabi din ni Major na ititigil ang kanilang operasyon kung titigil ang NPA sa
operasyon nila. Sabi naman namin hindi naman nag-ooperasyon ang NPA, militar lang ang may
operasyon dahil ang NPA ay nagbibigay lang ng medikal.)
The NPA and the MILF also have the advantage of being a prior presence in the communities and are
regarded as without such ulterior motives. They also objectively cannot afford to alienate the
communities that surround them because their security and survival are critically dependent on the
voluntary support of these communities. Moreover, in the case of active NPA combatants, it is
impressed on them that they are “the army of the people” (sundalo ng mamamayan) and this
ideological predisposition translates to attitudes and manners that people find sincere or authentic.
Communities clearly respond positively to what they see as NPA values of hard work, a simple life,
humility, honesty and respect for them. Especially given the value that Filipinos culturally give to
interpersonal dynamics in their relationships, such factors are pivotal in defining how they are
perceived.
Peaceful communities
Residents did not give any accounts to the research team of their communities being disrupted by the
presence of the NPA or MILF as such. Locals indeed seemed to welcome them especially if they are
assured that there would not be a sudden outbreak of fighting in their midst. Forty-five-year-old Nona
of Capiz echoed a sentiment common across the research areas: “If the military were not around, our
lives would be peaceful and quiet.” (Kung wala lang ang military, matiwasay sana ang aming
pamumuhay at tahimik.) Rosa, 33, even refutes claims that the NPA impedes or sabotages development
projects in their community: “The Army says that the NPA opposes government projects like roads.
But the NPA doesn’t oppose anything that is to the people’s benefit. They don’t oppose [roads] because
these help us bring our products to town.” (Sabi ng mga army na tinutulan daw ng mga NPA ang mga
projects ng gobyerno tulad ng daan. Hindi naman tutulan yan kung ang ginagawa ninyo ay para sa
kabutihan ng mga tao. Hindi naman nila tinutulan yun dahil makatulong sa amin para dalhin ang
aming mga produkto sa bayan.)
47
Despite being forced to evacuate due to armed conflict, Yoli, 46, of Leyte said outright: “I don’t want
the NPA to leave our area. They have helped so much with medicines, with production. There wouldn’t
be any trouble if the military wasn’t there. If it’s just the NPA, it’s quiet.” (Hindi gustong umalis ang
NPA sa lugar. Malaki kasi ang naitutulong ng NPA sa lugar kasi sa mga gamot, sa produksyon. Wala
naman gulo kung wala ang militar. Kung NPA lang naman, tahimik naman.) Lourdes, a 40-something
evacuee, even admitted: “I am very fond of the comrades. They empathize with us, they are kind –
which is why I am angry with the military for what they are doing there… [The military] doesn’t
understand what the NPA go through.” (Mahal ko ang mga kasama. Nakikisama sila, makatao, kaya
nga ako nainis sa mga military kasi ginaganoon nila ang mga tao doon… [Iyong] military hindi
naiintindihan iyong kalagayan ng mga kasama.) Her remarks were all the more striking considering
that her entire family has suffered, having to abandon their home and farm and being forced to
suddenly move to faraway Manila because they were harassed and threatened by the military precisely
for being seen as supporting the NPA. She also said that she did not want the NPA, who only help
people, to leave and asked: “Why, what have they done wrong that they should be made to leave?...
[The people in the] homes they are coming from feel sad whenever they leave.” (Bakit, ano ang
kasalanan para paalisin sila doon?... Iyong mga pinanggagalingan nilang mga bahay, nanghihinayang
sa pag-alis nila.)
But Lourdes admitted that other Leyte evacuees may not necessarily share such views, especially those
full of regret for being forced to leave good lives behind (pinanghihinayangan iyong buhay nila na
maginhawa). Certainly, during the children’s FGD, seven-year-old Edong said: “Make the soldiers and
the NPA go away so there won’t be any trouble.” (Paalisin ang sundalo at NPA para wala ng gulo.)
Likewise Mike, 14, says: “Remove the Army and NPA because if the NPA is there then so is the
Army.” (Tanggalin ang Army at NPA kasi kong may NPA may Army.)
In Mindoro Oriental, a woman FGD respondent also said that she wanted both the NPA and the
military to leave their community: “They’re the same because they’re just chasing each other. If the
NPA wasn’t here then the military wouldn’t be here either. If the military wasn’t chasing [the NPA]
they wouldn’t be here. We certainly did not ask them to come here so the military will chase them.”
(Pare parehas lang. Sila ang naghahabulan e. Kung walang NPA, walang militar. Iyong militar, kung
wala silang hinahabol hindi sila pupunta dito. Hindi naman namin sila tinatawagan na paparito para
may habulin.) Another woman said her family is scared of how the military always seems to be angry
and accusing, unlike the NPA, yet at the same she was also apprehensive whenever the NPA came
around: “We Hanunuo (Mangyan) ask them, ‘Don’t sleep in our home. You can eat with us but just
don’t stay the night.’ I tell them, ‘You have weapons to fight back with but all we have are little
children. Pity our children [if something happens to them].” (Sinasabi naming mga Hanunuo,
pinapakiusapan na, “Huwag kayong matulog sa amin. Pwede kayong makikain pero wag matulog.”
Sinasabi ko, “Mabuti po kayo ay may panlaban kayo pero kami may mga bata pang maliliit. Kawawa
naman ang aming mga anak.”)
During an FGD in Capiz, Martin, 52 years old and a father of twelve, said that he is scared of the
military’s “psy-war” and that when it comes to the NPA, “We’re not scared of the NPA but we’re
afraid of being caught in the crossfire. But they don’t do anything wrong. When they come to our
village they ask how our daily life is, they make plans on how to help.” (Kung NPA di kami natatakot
yong pangamba lang naming ay maipit sa crossfire. Pero wala naman silang ginagawang masama.
Pagdating sa lugar, nagiimbestiga kung kumusta ang pamumuhay, nagbibigay ng plano ng tulong.)
The children, women and other adults who participated in the FGDs and KIIs did not always
immediately divulge either the NPA presence in their communities or, especially, the various nonmilitary NPA efforts. Eventually, however, the respondents did speak about NPA initiatives in
children’s and women’s rights and welfare, health, education, economic production, and peace and
order. The research team could not ascertain how much more the respondents opted to remain discrete
about, but the extent that was disclosed was itself already revealing.
There seem to be three basic reasons underlying the positive attitudes of communities towards the
NPA: appreciation for its various efforts in their communities; shared goals; and personal relationships
built especially from having family members or neighbors with the NPA.
On women and children
48
Among the progressive ways of thinking that the NPA apparently introduces to communities relate to
women and children and these appear to have had some success. A woman respondent in Compostela
Valley shared how the NPA distilled their concerns into “the five B’s” – bana, bata, balay, baboy, bunog (husband, child, household, livestock, and physical violence) – and provided education in these
important aspects of their lives. These included their relationships with their husbands, child-rearing
practices, household work, livelihood concerns and violence against women. Data-gathering in the
other research areas affirmed that a gender awareness program addressing patriarchy in the countryside
and the special burden of women in rural households is integral to the political consciousness that the
NPA aims to impart in communities. There are also indications of a similar concern for the welfare of
children in the communities, albeit not always as well-articulated.
During the FGD of women in Capiz, respondents expressed gratitude for a particular change in the
erstwhile community cultural practice of binukot which used to be prevalent among Tumandok
families. A daughter is chosen by a family to live in relative isolation from the outside world; she is not
allowed to work under the heat of the sun so that her skin will remain soft and smooth and so that her
complexion will not darken. Her other siblings will see to her every need such as preparing her meals,
fetching water for her bath, and washing her clothes. When the time comes for this binukot to marry the
family expects to receive a high bride price for her. Dalisa, 41, says that her elder sister Miray was a
binukot whose marriage however failed because her husband was eventually peeved by how Miray
could not learn how to perform household chores, much less help him with farming. She says that with
the coming of the NPA and their patient explanation of, among others, how the rights of the binukot
daughter needed to be respected, this impractical and extravagant custom eventually disappeared:
“Because of the comrades (NPA), no longer [will we practice binukot].” (Dahil sa mga kasama [NPA],
hindi na siguro.)
The women are also proud to say that their children will never have to endure filial obligation in an
arranged marriage. Rosenda declared that, “Children have rights. Their parents can no longer dictate
whom they should marry. If you do that the whole barangay will tell you that what you’re doing is
wrong.” (May karapatan na ang mga bata. Hindi na sila pwedeng diktahan ng mga magulang kung
sino ang kanilang magiging asawa. Pupunahin ka ng buong barangay kung gagawin mo iyon.)
Consolacion, 63, said that the situation before the NPA came was that: “If your parents want you to
marry this man, you have to follow even if it’s against your will. They will disown you if you don’t
follow.” (Kung gusto ng mga magulang na ipaasawa ka sa lalaki na gusto nila , susunod ka lang, kahit
na labag sa aking kagustuhan. Sinusumpa ka ng magulang kung sumuway ka sa mga gusto nila.)
Veda, 48, agreed that the NPA had played a large part in the change: “They taught children how to
communicate their feelings to their parents.” (Tinuruan ang kabataan kung paano makipag-dialogue sa
magulang.) She also said that the women in their community used to just do what the menfolk wanted
but, when the NPA arrived, their lives started changing: “[The men] were taught that women should be
treated as equals in daily life and in the struggle.” (Tinuruan sila na ang mga babae ay dapat maging
kabalikat sa pamumuhay at sa pakikibaka rin.) Before, she recalled, the men were always in cockfights
and some had more than one wife. Mely, 45, added that not only did their livelihoods and incomes
improve but that, “Even inside the home we were able to get some rest.” (Sa loob ng bahay medyo
mayroon din kaming pahinga.)
In Abra, the women recalled how they gained confidence to assert themselves through their
community’s indigenous socio-political structure, the traditionally male-dominated dap-ay. Among
others there is now a standing rule which explicitly and strictly prohibits any form of violence against
women, including within erstwhile private households, and metes out punishments for violations. The
women FGD respondents also shared how the dap-ay is used to control liquor consumption and control
men’s drunkenness in the community.
In Compostela Valley, a primary school teacher shared her experience with the NPA helping handle a
disciplinary problem in school. Eva, 45, recalled how seven children aged 8-14 years old formed two
gangs in July 2005 and, armed with knives, “‘Rumbled’ (or staged gang-fights) almost everyday in
school which scared the students and even caused a few children to stay home out of fear.” (Halos
araw-araw ay may “rambolan” sa loob ng paaralan na naging sanhi ng takot at pag-aabsent ng ilan
pang batang mag-aaral dahil sa takot.) Initial efforts by the principal, teachers and parents through the
parent-teacher-community association (PTCA) were only momentarily effective and fighting erupted
again. When Eva heard that an NPA unit was in the area she approached the barangay captain for
49
assistance in seeking their help. She said that the barangay captain suggested that the NPA intimidate
the children – or “Psy-war them like what the military does” (I-psy-war tulad ng ginagawa ng militar)
– but that the NPA instead proposed talking to the children.
Eva, the barangay captain and two NPA fighters brought the rival gangs together and talked to them.
She said, “The NPA organizer asked the children what they felt about what they were doing and what
they thought was the appropriate punishment for them.” (Tinanong ng organisador ng NPA kung ano
ang palagay ng bata sa kanilang mga ginawa at ano sa palagay nila ang nararapat na parusa sa
kanilang kamalian.) The children answered being tied up, spanked or put in prison but the lead NPA
fighter handling the issue, a 28-year-old male, explained that these were not right as well as explained
the disruption that their fighting was causing. Eventually the group decided that the sanction for the
children fighting would be cleaning the school grounds and cutting the excess growth of grass for a
week during breaktimes and after school. Eva said that the children and the parents received this well
and a few weeks later the PTCA even drew up policies for “good conduct” within the school.
Adults across most of the study areas expressed their appreciation of the NPA’s ban on the peddling
and use of illegal drugs particularly, but not solely, by children and youth. Forty-three-year-old
Ronalinda of Capiz has five children, three of whom are still under-18. She said that “The NPA is a big
help... [They] teach children to avoid vices, like drug use which is widespread in the lowlands.”
(Malaki ang natulong ng NPA… Pagturo sa bata na umiwas sa bisyo, gaya ng droga na laganap sa
patag.) The NDFP spokesperson for Mindanao even claimed that there is absolutely no drug problem
in areas where they maintain a strong presence. The NPA apparently also discourages drinking and
gambling, including even cockfights, though it calibrates its approaches on these matters depending on
the readiness of the particular community at hand.
Health, education and livelihoods
FGD and KII respondents in Abra, Mindoro Oriental, Capiz, Leyte and Surigao del Sur also spoke
about various local campaigns of the NPA in their communities.38 These include such seemingly small
things as convincing families to wash dishes immediately after eating, to store plates, utensils and pots
in clean places, to make sure that chickens and other animals do not step on leftover food, to dig
rudimentary toilets in the right places away from water sources, to take measures for keeping potable
water sources clean, to bathe regularly with soap, and others. They are also remembered for correcting
misunderstandings or superstitions about basic aspects of health such as ascribing illnesses to spirits or
malicious witches instead of investigating unsanitary conditions or identifying diseases.
Poor rural communities are also hard-pressed to afford mainstream health services, so NPA medics
providing health and dental services, including minor surgeries, are much-appreciated. Likewise valued
are training sessions on cheap and effective alternative health practices such as acupuncture and herbal
medicines. Women respondents from Capiz said that NPA medics even gave them training on
attending childbirth. A male respondent recalled attending training on child rearing and reproductive
health.
One mayor, who asked to remain anonymous, said that in his more than a decade of public service he
has never had a problem with the NPA and that he has no experience of projects being blocked. He also
disclosed, “Sometimes they even ask for medicines to bring to the mountains, to far-off places that no
one goes to. We can only do one medical mission a year so, yes, I give them. It really goes [to where it
should] anyway.” (Minsan ay humihingi pa nga sila ng gamut para dalhin doon sa bundok, sa malayo
na hindi napupuntahan. Isang beses lang kami nakaka-medical mission sa isang taon kaya, sige,
binibigyan ko sila. Doon naman talaga mapupunta.) He said that the AFP confronted him once about
this to which he just replied that he would give them medicines as well if they asked because the
important thing is to help people, but that the town could not shoulder any maintenance or operating
costs of civic actions.
The NPA apparently also gives literacy and numeracy training for the young and adults in some farflung communities where they maintain a presence, with the extent to which they can sustain these
dependent on the military situation. An NPA official in Surigao del Sur said that this is to the
advantage of everyone concerned: the peasant gets an education he or she might otherwise not have
gotten which also facilitates the residents’ understanding of the politics and policies of the
revolutionary movement. The research team gathered that the political education of the NPA covers a
50
broad range of topics covering local peasant, national and global issues: coconut industry situation, rice
and vegetables liberalization, mining corporation encroachment, national economic policies, women’s
orientation, children’s rights and situation, corruption, the Comprehensive Agreement on Respect for
Human Rights and International Humanitarian Law (CARHRIHL), and many others.
Arguably, it is the NPA’s interventions in the economic life of the community that are the most
meaningful. Respondents from most of the NPA-influenced areas of the study cited concrete economic
gains, most commonly: increased yields from modern farming techniques such as contour farming and
inter-cropping, as well as collective farming arrangements that were able to surmount their accustomed
small peasant individualism.
The farmers in the Abra community visited said that the NPA taught them how to plant not just rice
and bananas but also cabbages, beans and tobacco. In Mindoro Oriental, the NPA is remembered for
confiscating cattle grazing land from big landlords and turning these over to landless Mangyan farmers.
Capiz farmers recall a time when they could not eat three meals a day and could not even afford to buy
salt until, with the encouragement of the NPA, they diversified into bananas, peanuts and coffee. They
were also emboldened to stop paying a sort of agricultural tax to the military dating from the 1960s.
Respondents from Leyte shared how the NPA units in their area participate directly in whatever farm
work is at hand: clearing, plowing, seeding, spraying, harvesting and so on. In Surigao del Sur, lumad
tribal communities were emboldened to organize themselves to resist incursions by logging and mining
operations into their ancestral land.
The NPA was also appreciated for dealing with instances of violence, brawls and theft in the
community. A pastor in Mindoro Oriental mentioned NPA efforts at keeping local peace and order in
interior upland areas through some kind of “justice system” that fills in for the absence of other
mechanisms.
The sum of all these contributions, some small and others much larger, seem to have lightened the
many adversities poor rural communities normally face. These are likely to go far in explaining much
of the support that communities apparently readily give to the NPA.
Empowerment
Another result of the the NPA’s efforts to have its revolutionary discourse disseminated, understood,
appreciated and translated into action is that erstwhile disempowered individuals and communities are
brought into the realm of challenging basic power relations. People have not only begun to recognize
and question long-standing gender, class and ethnicity power imbalances that oppress them, they have
also taken concrete steps in their homes and communities. Whatever may be said of their provenance
these are certainly gains that deserve to be preserved.
The individual assertion of women and children, for instance, is immediately striking. The raised
political consciousness has clearly positively affected the way men, women and children relate with
each other and with outsiders including the armed groups. Beyond these the communities have also
been brought into a process of collective political and economic action to change existing power
relationships: resistance, protest and mobilization as well as local efforts at group economic action.
Seriaco, an old Manobo tribal leader in Surigao del Sur, shared how the incursion of Christian settlers
into Manobo ancestral land in the 1940s and 1950s slowly drove them upland. Within a decade,
however, they had to deal with the entry of logging corporations, and then in the 1970s with destructive
open-pit mining operations. He says that through time these eroded many of their indigenous practices
such as paghungos-hungos or collective farming; even traditional tribal leadership systems were
undermined by bribery and the outright killing, by private mining security forces, of datus or
indigenous tribal chieftains who resisted. Seriaco remembers how the entry of the NPA in the 1980s
gave them the space, courage and opportunity to nurture an emergent collective indigenous identity as
lumadnon. He recalls how informal schools were set up for children and elders and how collective
farming arrangements were resumed. He also says that mining firms and logging operations were
driven away or otherwise controlled. The first time all these gains were disrupted was during a series of
massive military operations, air strikes and artillery bombardments from 1988 up to around 1991 when
the community regressed to a nomadic way of life with many resorting to living in caves and the forest.
Determined to regain their lives, according to Seriaco, many of the indigenous tribes in their area
51
worked to unite. Eventually a Manigaonons tribal council composed of datus was formed to protect
and promote the cultural, political and economic rights of the lumad over their ancestral land.
Collective efforts include setting up community schools and programs for forest management, abaca
planting, cooperatives and demonstration farms. Yet today, he said, they fear losing these following the
renewed wave of large military operations and displacements in their villages wrought by a suspicious
military.
The empowerment of communities also apparently extends to how they deal with the NPA who are not
exempt from the effects of raised political consciousness and appreciation of rights of communities.
During the FGDs in Abra, a parent agreed when a co-participant said that the NPA were reasonable:
“It’s true that we can talk to the NPA. We can tell them to avoid going into the barrio, even if
sometimes they make mistakes and don’t follow. But with soldiers there’s no reasoning with them.”
(Totoo yang nakakausap namin ang NPA. Napagsasabihan namin sila na umiwas sila dito sa loob ng
baryo. Pero kung minsan hindi sila nakakasunod kaya nagkakamali din sila. Pero ang mga sundalo,
hindi namin sila makausap ng matino.) In Mindoro Oriental, a mother said that she used to let NPA
sleep in their home but no longer: “We don’t let them stay anymore because if the soldiers suddenly
arrive they’ll be defenseless. They limit themselves now and tell us, ‘Don’t be afraid. We’ll leave as
soon as we eat because we’re really moving forward.’” (Pero sila ayaw nga naming patulugin dahil
pag biglang umabot ang sundalo wala ngang kalaban-laban sila. Nagooras din sila ng kanilang sarili.
Ganito sabi, “Huwag kayong matakot. Aalis din kami mamaya pag nakatapos, pag nakakain, kasi
talagang nagaadvance na kami.”) Another woman in Abra said that if you denied the NPA your home
they would look for another place, in contrast to soldiers who “Might hurt you.” (Baka manakit sila.)
The FGD respondents in the various areas shared the sorts of issues that their community organizations
have taken the initiative of addressing at some time or the other: domestic violence, children’s rights,
landlord exploitation, unemployment, state neglect, rights to ancestral land and natural resources,
national economic policies, global trade rules, and others. However it was often reported that the
military looks suspiciously on residents taking up these issues with the result that locals avoid meetings
and assemblies, large or small, whenever the military is around. Even collective farm work and health
projects have been suspended for fear of being alleged as NPA efforts.
Fearful communities
Residents of the communities across all the research areas drew a clear line between themselves and
the AFP. Locals are invariably suspicious of the military – and in most cases also fearful – because of
their experience over the years of threats, harassment, torture, murder, mutilation, forced evacuation
and other abuses. The military are also accused of a reckless disregard for the homes, crops, work
animals, livestock, belongings, norms and standards of the community. The branding of villages as
sympathetic to the NPA or MILF, and corresponding repressive measures even against civilians,
merely reinforces this fear of state forces.
A child in Abra said: “We play even at night, but when the military arrives you stop hearing the sound
of children playing.” (Sa gabi, maraming bata ang naglalaro pero noong dumating na ang mga
sundalo, wala ng marinig na batang naglalaro.) Another said that when soldiers ask them to do
errands they charge P5, but if the NPA asks them, they do it for free.
During the children’s FGD in Capiz, a participant said: “They tell us not to be scared of the military.
[But] the military is always investigating, and when you answer them they call you a liar.” (Kasi
sinasabihan kami na huwag dapat matakot sa military. Ang military lagi lang nang-iimbistiga, pag
sinagot mo naman sasabihin kang sinungaling.) For Ramon, 13, of Surigao del Sur: “I wonder if it’s
possible for the military to operate without bothering or harassing the people in the communities
because they’re not part of the fighting anyway. I wish they would just stay far away and not touch us
Lumad who just live quietly. (Iniisip na kung pwede sana kung mag-operasyong militar hindi nila
abalahin o iharas ang mga tao sa komunidad dahil hindi naman ito kasali sa gyera. Sana doon na lang
sila sa malayo at huwag galawin kaming mga Lumad na namumuhay lang ng tahimik at maayos.)
Fourteen-year-old Tonina recalled that when her family was evacuating from their village in
Maguindanao, they were delayed for having to hide even from the soldiers because, “The soldiers
bombed even civilians.” (Kasi kahit kaming mga civilian ay binubumba ng mga sundalo.) Taya, 11,
clearly remembered the military’s burning their homes and bombing their village, and remained
fearful: “We’re scared to go back here especially since the soldiers are still there.” (Takot kami na
52
bumalik dito sa lugar lalo na at nandito pa ang mga sundalo.) In North Cotabato, young children said
that they would not go out at night while soldiers were around and that their families stopped their
older sisters from going home because they might get raped. (Hindi pinapauwi ang mga ate – baka
pagsamantalahan.)
Taking sides
There is an accumulation of evidence indicating that there are communities which are not passive
bystanders in the on-going armed conflicts. There are the material conditions for this: poverty,
landlessness, scarce social services and marginalization. Moreover, far from government services their
main constant experience of the state are the occasional benefits of patronage politics that come their
way and, too often, the violence of the military. On the other hand, the NPA’s strategy of increasing its
political influence – through political education, providing social and economic services, inviting
membership into the revolutionary Left, and setting up political infrastructure including the NDFP –
seems to meet with success. They are seen as providing services, however limited, but still to the best
of their ability, as well as promoting and practicing progressive ways of thinking.
Certainly there were varied levels to which respondents articulated support for the NPA and the armed
struggle. Some respondents were candid in saying that they preferred that neither the NPA nor the
military were in their area. Others such as Sagbos Baticuling, a Mangyan tribal leader from Mindoro
Oriental, said that he wanted to deal fairly with the contending armed groups and that his taking
advantage of the much-needed social services the NPA offers does not necessarily mean that he shared
their ideology and beliefs in armed struggle. Yet though the range of responses per se varied, the
dominant expressed position across the study areas has largely been appreciation and welcoming of the
NPA – including its advocacy of new ways of thinking – if not outright support for them. Some
families volunteered the information that they have supported and joined armed groups for generations.
The usual support given is in terms of food, shelter, communications and even tending to casualties
when the need arises. Mely, a mother in Capiz with ten children, proudly shared how she helped a
wounded NPA fighter by hiding him under banana leaves and surreptitiously feeding him rice porridge
even while the military was in their barrio. She calls all this as part of her “support for our army.”
(Suporta rin kami sa aming mga sundalo.) Forty-one-year-old Belay, also a mother in Capiz, said that
she was 14 years old when she first helped the NPA by bringing letters, food and money and added, “I
still do that today. If there is a letter [that needs to be delivered] I put it in my bra.” (Ginagawa ko iyon
hanggang ngayon. Kung mayroong sulat, nilalagay ko iyon sa aking bra.)
There was also an impassioned statement of support from a young 35-year-old mother of four who
stopped school during the fourth grade. She said: “Since I aspire to change society, I will sacrifice even
my own life. It is painful but necessary. Deaths are natural when there is fighting. These deaths are the
fertile ground [for change]. It’s only natural that blood will flow during war.” (Dahil hangad ko na
baguhin ang lipunan kahit buhay man ay ialay. Masakit pero dapat. Natural lang na kung may
labanan, may mamamatay. Kung may mamatay, parang pataba yan. At natural na kung may giyera,
dadanak ang dugo.)
Amancio, a 52-year-old kaingin farmer with 13 children, explained: “For me, the NPA and the problem
with the government has been around for a long time. We’ve had enough time to get to know the NPA.
If we see that they’re bad people, why would we support them up to now? Let’s say that the NPA are
annihilated. I believe that another rebel movement will emerge and I will still support it.” (Para sa akin
matagal na naman ang NPA at ang problema sa gobyerno. May sapat na kaming panahon upang
makilala namin ang NPA. At kung nakita naming masama sila, bakit pa kami susuporta hanggang
ngayon? Ipagpalagay na nating malusaw na ang NPA. Naniniwala akong may uusbong uling rebelde
at susuporta pa rin ako.)
Children in the North Cotabato FGD repeatedly said that there is no war in their community if it is only
the MILF in their area, and that war only comes when AFP soldiers come and then lasts as long as they
are there. A young respondent said that when he sees a wounded MILF fighter with holes in his body,
“My faith in Islam become stronger” (Tumitindi ang paninindigan sa Islam). Another says that the
jihad happens when their rights are violated and that their task is to support the MILF, for instance by
giving rice, and even joining if they believe they are up to it.
53
Realities for young and old
Children and youth are discerning and reflexive members of their community and deeply embedded in
the realities that their mothers, fathers, older siblings and fellow villagers daily face. At an early age
they are already productive members of the community. They participate in economic production for
their families and contribute to its daily upkeep by laboring in the fields, raising livestock, and doing
other daily chores. Growing up amidst armed conflict, it is natural for them to have opinions and make
choices about this reality. In particular they are not insulated from the pervasive effect that the NPA
and MILF have on the communities, by their own efforts and indirectly through encouraging the
growth of local community organizations.
Perhaps the most vivid expression of community support for the armed struggle is children and youth
wanting to join the NPA. The research team even encountered a number of children and youth from the
various provinces visited who were waiting to join and their accounts are detailed in subsequent
chapters. Apart from these, the research team was able to ask parents in two FGD groups what they
thought of their children joining the NPA. It was implicit in their responses that they recognized that
their sons and daughters have a right to decide to join. But on how they might react if their children
opted to exercise that right, the responses were mixed with no particularly dominant view emerging.
There is the line of thinking articulated by a mother in Abra who, although expressing a shared belief in
the cause of the NPA, said: “If my child were to join, I would feel such tremendous fear. I might not be
able to sleep thinking of him because we know that the NPA is waging war. What will happen to my
son’s future?” (Kung halimbawa iyong anak ko ay sumampa, matinding pangamba ang dadanasin ko.
Baka hindi ako makatulog sa pag-iisip sa kanya dahil alam nating ang NPA ay nakikidigma. Paano na
ang hinaharap ng anak ko?)
Meanwhile another view was expressed by, for one, a mother in Capiz: “If any of my kids who are
either single or widowed [were to join the NPA], it would bring me joy because the people and the
masses have no other army but the NPA.” (Kung mayroon akong anak na binata o balo, matutuwa ako
dahil walang sundalo ang mga masa o mamamayan kundi ang NPA.)
Islam for Moro communities
The most marked difference in the war between the MILF and AFP compared to that between the AFP
and the NPA guerrillas is, as mentioned earlier, that the sprawling MILF camps also happen to be
vibrant communities where Moro families, women, and children live. Residents of MILF camps benefit
from livelihood opportunities and a level of social services. One other implication of this is that largescale AFP attacks aimed at seizing MILF territories invariably result in the massive and extended
evacuation of thousands of Moro civilians as their communities are bombed, shelled and overrun by
AFP ground troops with armored vehicles. Hence the story of endless war and evacuation of the Moro
people in the past decades with the recent experiences of wars in 2000 and 2003 merely showing, to
another generation of Moro men, women and children, how the historical injustices against their people
continue.
Another unique implication which is particularly important given the centrality of Islam to the MILF
and their communities is that these villages are also the site of mosques and madrasah (Arabic schools).
When Moro children were asked to map their communities before, during and after war visited them,
their respective mosques were prominently placed at the center of their drawings. AFP soldiers were
drawn attacking these, with MILF mujahideen engaging them in battle in apparent defense of the
mosques. These drawings depict the ideological dispositions of the Moro conflict as seen from the eyes
of children, women and members of the Moro communities: government forces are regarded as
external aggressors who place their community’s beliefs, livelihood and safety at risk.
The frequent references to the effects of war on community mosques in the accounts of FGD
respondents reflects the importance of Islam in their lives. Buka, 52, a farmer from Maguindano
recalled that “The soldiers also ransacked our mosque and madrasah. They got the roof and wood, and
used them to build their camp.” (Sinira din ng military ang aming moske at madrasah. Kinuha ang atip
at mga kahoy at ginamit nila sa paggawa ng kampo nila.)
54
For the Moro men respondents, the military clearly not only stole their properties and carelessly left
unexploded ordnance and mines in their communities; they also showed extreme disrespect to the
culture and beliefs of the community by destroying mosques. A great insult was apparently added to an
already serious social injury when the military, according to the respondents, even forced them to work
on building a military outpost using the materials of their revered and holy structure. This particular
structure was also especially significant for being the mosque of Hashim Salamat’s youth, where he
first learned of the teachings of Allah.
Mosques and the madrasah have a special relevance for the communities: they symbolize and
materially manifest the culture, beliefs, and struggles of the Moro people. Like the adults of their
communities, the children also accord special meaning to their mosques and likewise speak about their
destruction during the war. Ahmed, 11 years old, regarded the destruction as one of his unforgettable
experiences: “When fighting took place here, we evacuated. Our house was burned and we were sad
that the chickens were lost and that our house was riddled with bullets. We went back here in 2003. We
were not able to forget our mosque.” (Nong nag ka-gyera dito, nagbakwet kami. Nasunog ang bahay
namin, malungkot kami na nawala ang manok pero tinamaan ng bala ang bahay. Nagbalik kami dito
noong 2003. Hindi namin makalimutan ang moske.)
Armed conflicts and ideology
The extent of apparent support for the rebel armed groups in the communities at first seems startling.
Yet upon consideration of the material conditions of poverty and the contrasting behavior of the
respective armed groups, it becomes much less surprising. On one hand are the NPA and the MILF
who essentially strike locals as genuinely sharing in their difficult situations and who defend their
immediate interests. On the other hand are AFP soldiers, largely outsiders, who enter their villages with
the single-minded purpose of quelling dissent and who moreover behave in abusive ways.
Each side has its respective propaganda campaigns to influence the communities but locals seem to rely
greatly on historical and contemporary experiences in forming opinions. That these armed conflicts
have persisted for some four decades now only underscores how communities have seen the state as
persistently neglectful or even abusive, and how the rebel armed groups in their midst are seen as
providing some kind of alternative.
The qualitative results of the study complement a concept posited in the Philippine Human
Development Report (PHDR) of 2005: that it may be the experience or realization of “deprivation and
injustice”, rather than conditions of “hardship” per se, which provide the impetus to join armed groups
challenging the established political and economic order.39 Overall, the insight is important in
supplanting a crude materialism that mechanically equates poverty or inequality with the desire to take
up arms and pursue a class or religious war.
For the purposes of the current study what is relevant is that this realization of “deprivation and
injustice” is essentially a coming to terms with the ideological agenda of the CPP-NPA-NDFP and
MILF-BIAF. Indeed, these armed groups themselves are in the first instance the upshot of such a
realization by their founding memberships, which has been reinforced through the years. Whether they
are speaking for the landless peasant or the marginalized Muslim, both groups condemn the system that
victimizes their respective constituencies. The current study has generated rich accounts of social and
psychological motivations that come together into a narrative of the social process that drives
individuals and communities to support and even join the armed struggle.
Chapter conclusion
This study has collected statistical information pertaining to the material and war conditions in the
subject communities, some of which have already been presented in this chapter. At the same time it
has also accumulated substantial personal accounts that concretize what the abstraction “armed
conflict” means on the ground.
Based on the findings in the research areas visited, it is clear that communities can be very much a part
of the on-going armed conflicts: as voluntary supporters of the so-called rebel groups, and, because of
this or even simply upon suspicion of this, their being deliberately victimized by state forces. This is a
critical element of the assessment of the needs of children and women. How they are affected precisely
55
depends on how they are perceived by the military and the sort of offensive and counter-insurgency
military operations conducted in their villages. Yet even if they have family members who are NPA or
MILF fighters, or even if they may volunteer support for their own reasons, they remain civilian noncombatants distinguished from armed combatants, and thus deserving of special protection.
The country’s resistance movements are not sporadic phenomena. They have well-developed
ideologies building on social realities, and have historically survived by relying on mass support. From
a larger perspective, exploring the underlying reasons for such support points to how deeply-seated the
problems of poverty and marginalization are, as well as how radical social, economic and political
reforms are necessary to address the roots of armed conflict. Without such reforms, military solutions,
especially those according to doctrines which encourage the identification of non-combatant targets,
will likely only lead to more adverse effects on increasing numbers of civilians including women and
children.
Endnotes
1
This discussion of overall strategy draws from Armando Liwanag, Chairman, Central Committee, Communist Party of
the Philippines (CPP), “Marxism-Leninism-Mao Zedong Thought as Guide to the Philippine Revolution”, Contribution to
the International Seminar on Mao Zedong Thought, November 6-7, 1993.
2
Ibid.
Central Committee, Communist Party of the Philippines (CPP), “Fight to Hasten the Ouster of the Arroyo Regime and
Strengthen the Revolutionary Movement”, 37th New People’s Army (NPA) Anniversary Message to the Party cadres, Red
commanders and fighters of the NPA, March 29, 2006.
3
4
General Headquarters, Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP), “Knowing the Enemy: Are we missing the point?”,
Powerpoint presentation, 2003.
5
This discussion draws from Salah Jubair (1999), Bangsamoro: A Nation Under Endless Tyranny, 3rd edition, published
by IQ Marin in Kuala Lumpur.
Soliman Santos, “Evolution of the Armed Conflict on the Moro Front”, in the Philippine Human Development Report
2005 (PHDR 2005: 78), Human Development Network (HDN) in cooperation with the United Nations Development
Program (UNDP) and New Zealand Agency for International Development (NZAID).
6
7
Inday Espina-Varona and Johnna Villaviray, “Capture of MILF camps has downside for gov’t”, Manila Times Internet
Edition, posted on Wednesday, June 19, 2002 with link at
http://www.manilatimes.net/others/special/2002/jun/19/20020619spe1.html.
Inday Espina-Varona, Johnna Villaviray and William Depasupil, “Government struggles with ‘hearts and minds’
campaign among Muslims”, Manila Times Internet Edition, posted on Thursday, June 20, 2002 with link at
http://www.manilatimes.net/others/special/2002/jun/21/20020621spe1.html.
8
9
President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo announced a shortening of the timetable for defeating the Communist insurgency
from 10 years to two years. Christine O. Avendaño, “GMA orders Reds crushed in 2 years”, Philippine Daily Inquirer,
Vol. 21, No. 189, Saturday, June 17, 2006.
10
Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP), “Briefing/Lecture on AFP ISO Campaign Plan–‘Bantay Laya’”, undated.
11
Ibid. Italics supplied.
12
13
Ibid.
14
“AFP-PNP Joint Letter Directive: Operational Guidelines in Clearing CTM Affected Barangay and Dismantling of
CTM Guerrilla Front”, reproduced in Third Infantry Division (3ID) Special Operations Team (SOT)
Manual, Office of the Assistant Chief of Staff for Operations, G3, 3 r d Infantry (SpeaVedad)
Division, Philippine Army. Italics supplied.
15
16
17
Headquarters, Philippine Army (PA), Philippine Army Internal Security Operations Manual, PAM 3-001, undated.
Lt. Col. John S. Bonafos, Philippine Army, “Implications of Bayan Muna in the AFP Internal Security Operations”,
Tala: Official Publication of the Armed Forces of the Philippines, Volume 11, 1st Quarter 2003.
18
In an alleged AFP concept paper, “Institutionalizing the Conduct of Target Research as a Major Component in the
Intelligence Project Preparation in Particular, and Intelligence Cycle Process, in General”, undated but referring to three
phases of implementation beginning in September 2004.
19
20
In an alleged internal memorandum on “Target Research on Sectoral Organizations” from Commodore Tirso R Danga,
AFP Deputy Chief of Staff for Intelligence, J2 dated September 3, 2004 (ref: J2/04/0694).
56
The selected indicators have been culled from Philippine Army (PA), “Modified AFP-PNP Parameters in the
Categorization of DT Threatened and Affected Barangays”, Special Operation Team Trainors Training CL 01-2001, 2nd
Infantry Division, Philippine Army, Camp Gen. Mateo Capinpin, Tanay, Rizal.
21
General Headquarters-Armed Forces of the Philippines (GHQ-AFP), AFP Military Strategy for Combating Terrorism,
February 18, 2004.
22
Statement by Major General Jovito Palparan in a Media Forum, Express it at the Park, March 05, 2005. Major General
Palparan was promoted from Colonel to Brigadier General in 2004, and then to Major General in 2006; he was awarded
the Medal of Valor in 2004. Among his deployments have been Mindoro Oriental (May 2001-April 2003), Eastern
Visayas covering Samar and Leyte (February-August 2005) and Central Luzon (September 2005-present).
23
Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP), “Briefing/Lecture on AFP ISO Campaign Plan–‘Bantay Laya’”, undated. Also
cited in Fe Zamora, “GMA war endgame vs NPA”, Philippine Daily Inquirer, Vol. 21, No. 190, Sunday, June 18, 2006.
24
Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Human Rights Committee: Philippines,
“Concluding observations of the Human Rights Committee: Philippines”, CCPR/CO/79/PHL, Geneva, Switzerland,
December 1, 2003.
25
United States (US) Department of State-Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, Country Reports on Human
Rights Practices-2005 (Philippines), March 8, 2006.
26
27
Amnesty International (AI), Amnesty International Report 2006.
Commission on Human Rights (CHR), “On the Killings of Members of Bayan Muna, Anakpawis, Gabriela and Other
Allied Organizations”, Quezon City, Statement released July 8, 2005.
28
Archbishop Angel N. Lagdameo, DD, Archbishop of Jaro, President, Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines
(CBCP), “Let Us Keep Human Life Sacred”, May 31, 2006.
29
Carolina G. Hernandez , “Institutional Responses to Armed Conflict: The Armed Forces of the Philippines”, in the
Philippine Human Development Report 2005 (PHDR 2005).
30
31
ARMM includes the provinces of Basilan, Lanao del Sur, Maguindanao, Sulu and Tawi-Tawi. Region IX includes
Zamboanga del Norte, Zamboanga del Sur and Zamboanga Sibugay.
Global IDP Database (2005),
Profile of Internal Displacement-Philippines, Norwegian Refugee Council/Global IDP Project, http://ww.idpproject.org.
32
33
CDRC data.
http://www.db.idpproject.org/Sites/idpSurvey.nsf/wViewSingleEnv/DD349AE39EC11D02C1256F9A004F2BB2/$file/
Migration_Report_high_compress.pdf accessed May 10, 2006
34
35
Data from Bayan Muna.
Commission on Human Rights (2006), “Breakdown of Total Number of Alleged Perpetrators of Human Rights
Violation Cases Filed with the CHR, By Classification and By Case Type – Incidents Occurring from January 2001 up to
December 2005".
36
37
Soliman Santos, “Evolution of the Armed Conflict on the Communist Front”, in the Philippine Human Development
Report 2005 (PHDR 2005: 93).
38
More details can be found in the chapter of profiles on the research areas.
“The straightforward argument is that deprivation breeds discontent and a sense of injustice, which in turn leads to
armed conflict. For grievances to exist, people must perceive and be convinced that something higher and better than
their present condition is indeed possible. Deprivation after all is never abstract; it is always a perception framed relative
to some standard. Ideology articulates such standards, for one of its functions is to argue how the present could be
otherwise for its potential adherents...” (PHDR 2005: 25).
39
57
CHAPTER 3.
Childhood Amidst War
All Filipino children especially in the country’s backward rural areas are burdened by poverty and the
scarcity of state social and welfare services. This is easily seen with even just a glance at national and
provincial indicators. These already take the greatest toll on Filipino children’s survival, welfare and
development. Yet in many areas around the country these are gravely compounded by the adverse
effect of on-going armed conflicts: the dire effects of armed encounters and other combat operations as
well as alarming abuses of their rights. The effects of this complex situation on children are farreaching and occur at different levels.
Children’s realities
Families and communities are profoundly affected by the on-going armed conflicts. Generations of
children in the countryside have grown up and grow up in poverty and war. Precise numbers are
difficult to come by, but with the country’s protracted armed conflicts on-going nationwide for some
four decades now, the number of children so affected certainly now include hundreds of thousands and
is likely to already be in the millions. There is also a class bias in these effects, with those affected
being from among the poorest families in the country.
Children tend to be more vulnerable because they are physically weaker than adults, are still in the
process of developing their own competencies, and are usually still dependent on their elders. This
makes them generally less able to deal with emerging crises. This can have long-term implications.
There are also children who face particularly greater hardships. This report calls attention to children
who are at special risk from being perceived, rightly or wrongly, as supporters or outright members of
the CPP-NPA-NDFP or MILF-BIAF. There is also a small subset of children who stand a greater
chance of being exposed to fighting as actual combatants.
There were evident impacts on conflict-affected children’s education, physical and mental health, and
general well-being. The research also observed distinct differences in the impact of armed conflict on
children who were displaced along with their families, compared to those who remained in their
communities and were there affected by military operations.
At the very least are disruptions, no matter how temporary, in communities’ and children’s routines and
lives. These disruptions become more severe in cases of large-scale and long-term physical
displacements of families and entire communities. At worst, the children themselves or close family
members are direct victims of violence and abuse resulting in serious traumas, injury or death. For
some victims the physical, emotional and psychological costs have been grave.
On the other hand, children also have capacities for coping, survival and indeed even growth despite
extremely adverse circumstances. The study has tried to draw a fuller picture of the situation of
children in these circumstances as a contribution towards developing better-informed interventions for
them.
There were 125 child FGD respondents, 46 percent of whom were male and 54 percent female. By age,
40 percent were in the 7-12 year- old bracket and 60 percent 13-17 years old. Only 42 percent of
respondents had birth certificates while 34 percent were no longer in school.
A short child patient survey was also administered during the small medical missions conducted in
each of the areas with questions on day-care attendance, height, weight and immunizations. Out of 705
children surveyed, 11 percent were less than a year old, 48 percent were between 1-5 years old, 31
percent between 6-10 years old, and 10 percent between 11-17 years old; 47 percent were male, 50
percent female, and three percent undetermined.
The child respondents were all conscious of their poverty and the limited social services and options
available to them. Perhaps reflecting the relatively low-intensity of disruptions due to armed conflict in
the cross-section of respondents – with only three areas seeing extended and/or large-scale
58
displacements – more children attributed their difficult lives to poverty rather than to war and fighting.
Nonetheless, for those children directly victimized or physically displaced, the ongoing armed conflict
and its effects factored greatly in their consciousness and lives.
Disrupted communities
The adverse impacts on children due to the armed conflict can be clustered into the two general types
of victims mentioned earlier: children IDPs, and children remaining in their communities.
The effect on children who have been physically displaced with their familes due to fighting conformed
to a more or less similar pattern, with variations being due to the events precipitating the displacement,
or, again, minor circumstantial details. This was the experience of the children of Leyte, Surigao del
Sur, Compostela Valley, North Cotabato and Maguindano.
The impacts accompanying the wide-spread dislocation of entire communities were most acute.
Children’s recollections of happy times before being displaced were tinged with much feeling and
poignancy, reflecting how much more they had lost compared to children who had managed to remain
in their villages. They recalled happy times with playmates, playing traditional games such as luksong
tinik, or simply tumbling and running around. But they also relegated to the past such vital things as
their homes, harvests of rice or corn, and farm animals like goats, ducks and chickens.
The situation of IDPs is extremely difficult. Fighting engulfs people in their own villages and forces
them to evacuate. Residents are driven out and flee for their lives amidst automatic gunfire, air strikes,
artillery bombardments and deafening explosions. They scamper for cover even as they leave behind
homes, fields, crops, animals and many other things essential for their economic survival – with little
guarantee that these will be recovered when and if they are able to return. Parents and children are even
momentarily separated. Yet while the refuge they find in far-off evacuation centers may be free from
fighting, they face new struggles against unsanitary conditions and disease, and indeed for their very
survival.
In these cases, family and kinship structures have to some extent shown some resilience. Displaced
residents have in some instances been able to move and re-settle together, although there are also
families which have been fragmented in the course of displacements. Displaced people have also found
themselves alone in unfamiliar locales and away from social and economic networks of support. These
are most often the situations when families rely even more on children entering into paid work.
Unfortunately, even those who are eventually able to return to their homes and farms may find these
destroyed or overgrown, and they face the difficult task of rebuilding the economic and social capital
that their families had painstakingly built up but lost in the turmoil.
The effect on children who remain in their communities of military operations associated with armed
conflict followed a more or less similar pattern across all the research areas. The variations were due to
such specific details as the size, duration and aggressiveness of military operations, and some
circumstantial details. Military counter-insurgency operations in the communities are the common
experience of the children of Abra, Mindoro Oriental and Capiz. This is also the experience of the
children in Leyte, Surigao del Sur and Compostela Valley, although they have also experienced
varying periods of displacement.
The children generally portrayed their rural peasant communities as peaceful despite the presence,
frequently or intermittently, of the rebel armed groups. They recalled such happy times as birthday
celebrations, doing well in school, swimming with friends in the river, being with family, and enjoying
the novelty of rare trips to nearby town centers. At the same time, however, there was usually an
undercurrent of anxiety or fear about state military forces due to their own or their parents’ recent
negative experiences.
A rural community is occupied with making a living under usually difficult conditions, and families
have to care and provide for their children. Even at early ages children share in responsibilities at home
and in the fields with some completely stopping schooling as early as eight or nine years old. The
concern with survival and the focus on livelihood is then shattered by the outbreak of armed conflict
accompanied or immediately followed by increased AFP presence. The actual fighting is usually shortlived especially in CPP-NPA-NDFP areas where small-scale guerrilla operations are more common –
59
lasting perhaps a few hours, though on occasion dragging on for days. This fighting typically happens
far from village centers especially when rebels on the defensive retreat even further into forest or
mountain strongholds.
Combat and counter-insurgency operations at the very least immediately disrupt normal community
routines of work, domestic chores, play and education – more so if the fighting occurs nearby.
Production work is interrupted and children’s movements drastically limited. Children try to cope with
the situation and maintain normal routines as best as they can, but it is inevitable that schooling is
disrupted, that home lives and chores are thrown into disarray, that work patterns are upset, and that
fears, tension and anxieties mount. For most, life will only begin to return to “normal” after the military
presence recedes. Unfortunately, there will likely be some children or close family members for whom
this “normalcy” is not so easily regained. These are those individuals who have become victims of
abuses in the course of military operations.
The study did not get any firsthand accounts of the most severe situation of child casualties
inadvertently caught in the crossfire of battles. However, there were still impacts across a range of
dimensions with serious personal, material and economic losses. Armed conflicts specifically and
adversely affect children in the following ways with the effects being the most severe for displaced
children: disruption of education; mental and emotional traumas; hunger, disease, and even death.
At the same time it is also important to draw attention to a phenomenon that increases the risks to
children due to armed conflict: their being subject to deliberate verbal, mental and physical threats
whether as part of a community tagged as supporting rebel armed groups, or as individuals with close
family members suspected of being part of these groups.
However, it is also important to probe into how children are not totally bereft of internal resources and
capacities for dealing with the adversities they face. These are also what enable them to still retain their
fondest hopes, dreams and aspirations.
Schooling
Children in poor rural communities see good and at least basic education as essential to better
livelihoods and improving the quality of life. This was evident in the responses of children who almost
universally expressed their desire to go to school either for their own benefit or to be able to help their
parents, brothers and sisters. And yet educational services in remote rural areas tend to be thin to begin
with. There are usually shortages in schools, classrooms, teachers and books compared to urban
centers. Although public education up to high school is supposed to be free of charge, rural children’s
basic education is still endangered by their parents’ inability to pay related expenses for school
supplies, materials for projects, uniforms, food and transportation. Early childhood education is also
not complete: the child patient survey conducted during the area medical missions found that only 6.4
percent of 219 3-5 year-olds surveyed were enrolled in day care.
The case of 15-year-old Rohamie of North Cotabato captures the essential context in which armed
conflict situations affect children’s education. She wants to finish school and become a nurse so she
can help her parents. But Rohamie said that her parents are hard-pressed to put her and her eight
siblings through school: “If we don’t have money we can’t go to school because we don’t have the P1
fare for the boat.” (Kapag walang pera di makapasok dahil walang pamasahe sa [P1] bangka.) It is
this already difficult situation that armed conflict makes even more problematic.
Schooling stopped
In terms of schooling, IDP children are generally the worst affected by armed conflict. The tendency
for children to stop schooling for at least the length of their displacement is great for any combination
of reasons: because of the uncertainty of their situation, because schools are too far away, because their
families can no longer afford it, or because they have had to find work to help support the family. The
displacements in the areas covered by the study lasted anywhere from a week to well over a year.
Children have reported stopping schooling from anywhere from a year or two years to stopping
entirely.
60
The most recurring reason appears to be displacement undermining families’ economic means .
Evacuation sites are notoriously far from regular and sufficient livelihood sources. Children’s studies
are among the first to be sacrificed when families try to reduce expenses. Laga, 14, of Maguindanao
said that she and her siblings all stopped going to school during their year-long stay in an evacuation
center because their parents could no longer afford it. This was essentially the situation faced by many
others such as 12-year-old Musrifa of North Cotabato and her family.
Dire economic straits have also pushed children not only to stop school but to enter paid work to help
their families. The FGD of child self-evacuees from Leyte, for instance, found that all the participants
had stopped studying and that most of them were working. Mike, 14, foraged through the infamous
garbage mountains of Payatas; Jerick, 16, sold fishballs off a street cart; Joyet, 17, worked in a factory
cleaning bottles; Cesar, who just turned 18, worked in a bakery seven days a week from early morning
until midnight. Also from Leyte, a mother lamented how her 10-year-old son had gone from attending
school in their rural village to scavenging for nails and other scrap metal in Manila.
There are also added factors compromising the education of displaced Moro children – some big, some
small, but all disruptive. Some children said they had a hard time enrolling simply for lack of
documentation. In Maguindanao, Nahla, 11, said that she and her eight-year-old sister had not been
able to re-enroll because their school report cards and birth certificates were among the many things
they lost when soldiers burned down their home. Unable to finish even the second grade, she is angry
for this: “I’m upset with the soldiers because I can’t continue with my studies. If I could get even with
them I would have done so already.” (Naiinis ako sa mga sundalo dahil hindi ko na mapagpatuloy ang
pag-aaral ko. Kung pwede nga lang na gumanti, ginantihan ko na ang mga sundalong iyon.)
There is also apparent demoralization from having to repeat grade levels over and over again. The
fighting that broke out in North Cotabato in February 2003 was a month shy of the end of classes, so
even those who were able to return to school while in evacuation centers the following June had to
repeat the entire school year, expenses and all.
Ramlah, 15, bewailed being prevented from graduating from the elementary grades at the very last
minute: “As children, our experience of war is having to stop school. The reason we’re still at low
grade levels despite our ages is that we keep stopping. I want an end to war so that we children can
continue studying.” (Ang matinding karanasan naming mga bata sa gera ay paghinto ng aming pagaaral… Kaya ho ngayon ay malaki na kami mababa parin ang grade dahil pahinto-hinto. Gusto ko
pong hindi na maulit ang gera para tuluy-tuloy ang pag-aaral naming mga kabataan.) Mahade, 16,
also remembered how she and her friends were so happy and looking forward to finally graduating,
even already preparing their things for the ceremony. But then, “It turned out I was mistaken because I
never felt what it was like to graduate from elementary school. I told myself that I got the opposite of
happiness. I remember how sad I felt. I cried…” (Nagkamali pala ako ng akala dahil hindi ko man
naramdaman ang pagtatapos ng elementarya. Ang nasabi ko sa aking sarili ay ang kasiyahan pala ay
kabaliktaran. Tandang tanda ko pa ang lahat malungkot. Umiiyak ako...)
Eleven-year-old Racma, the middle of five children, recalled even the colors of the flames that
engulfed their home when soldiers torched it. But it is the effect of war on her studies that has made the
greatest impression on her. “The experience I will never forget is about my schooling which is always
interrupted. Since I was in the first grade, war has always interrupted my schooling. One time we were
already so close to the end of the year but when war came we had to stop again.” (Ang karanasang di
ko malilimutan ay tungkol sa pag-aaral dahil sa pag-aral ko ay palaging natitigil. Noon grade one pa
ako palaging natitigil nandahil sa gera. Mayroon pang isang pasukan na malapit na talaga kami magklusing pero nang dumating ang gera natigil na naman.)
The lament among many Moro children over the perpetual interruptions in their studies is also an
appeal for a return to daily routines and some kind of stability in their lives. Yet the physical damage to
the educational infrastructure in their communities reminds them how elusive this goal is. Children
from North Cotabato poignantly recalled bullet holes in the Philippine flag in their school as well as the
damage to their classrooms which made them unusable. The evacuees of Maguindanao returned home,
but the school in their community was still so damaged that elementary students had to walk for over
an hour every day just to get to the nearest alternative school. (There were no equivalent accounts of
schools being damaged or destroyed in the NPA areas.)
61
Rohamie, 15, was clearly pained: “Why did this have to happen to us? What did our village do that we
were attacked even if they had nothing to gain from it? This is what made us stop studying, because we
were in evacuation [centers]…” (Bakit pa kasi nangyari ito sa amin ang ganito? Ano ba ang kasalanan
ng aming lugar dahil iyon pa ang kanilang lumusob subalit ay wala naman silang makukuha doon?
Kayo ito ang dahilan ng aming pagtigil sa pag-aaral dahil nasa evacuation na kami...)
When evacuations take place not only the schooling of children from affected communities is
interrupted. So is the schooling of children of the community whose schools are temporarily used as
evacuation shelters. In Compostela Valley, some 100 evacuating families moved into a nearby school,
stopping its operations from two weeks to around a month.
Interrupted, disturbed and distracted
Armed conflict also affects the studies of children even if they are not displaced. For children who
remain in their communities, the most common interruptions are that they either temporarily stop going
to school or, even if they continue going to school, are distracted by ongoing fighting nearby or the
disruptive presence of AFP soldiers on combat and counter-insurgency operations. Children and
parents have reported interruptions lasting from a few hours or days, around two to three weeks, to
about a month.
These disruptions happened for various reasons. There is first of all the obvious one that all everyday
routines are suspended if there is fighting close enough to the school and the community to be heard,
even if far enough not to place residents in immediate danger. Children did not want to leave home or
be away from their families in such circumstances. In the research areas visited, the most prolonged
fighting within hearing distance of the village centers that was encountered was in the case of Abra.
Fighting in mid-2005 occurred in a mountain range adjacent to the village where hundreds of AFP
soldiers pursued an NPA unit that had just raided an AFP camp. Two weeks of sporadic gun battles, air
strikes and mortar shelling followed.
The sounds of combat and the presence of soldiers on combat operations in their village were greatly
disruptive: classes were suspended in the first few days and, even when resumed, children’s attendance
and concentration were affected. During the children’s FGD, 14-year-old Rhoda recalled being
apprehensive: “We could hardly concentrate on our studies while in school because we were thinking
that [the fighting] might reach us. At the time I didn’t even feel like playing or studying, but I still
forced myself so I wouldn’t be absent.” (Nang kami ay nasa paaralan halos hindi ako makaconcentrate sa pag-aaral dahil iniisip ko na baka isali nila ang aming lugar. Hanggang doon ay wala
akong ganang maglaro at ganang mag-aral pero pinipilit ko pa rin ang aking sarili para lang hindi
magka-absent.) Her schoolmate Beng added that their anxiety was not just about the fighting: “Even if
there’s war I wish the soldiers wouldn’t come to our barrio and pick on everyone they come across.
That’s why I get scared to go out alone when there are [military] operations.” (Sana kung may gera
walang sundalong pumapasok sa baryo at huwag nilang idamay ang mga taong kanilang
nasasalubong. Kaya nga natatakot akong lumabas kung nag-iisa ako dahil sa operasyon.)
Daisy, 16, blamed the soldiers for the effect of the explosions on her studies and their playtime: “The
soldiers want to kill a lot of their enemies and to [scare] so many others. They have no shame.” (Gusto
ng mga sundalo na marami ang mamatay na kanilang kaaway at marami ang maapektuhan. Sila ay
mga walang-hiyang sundalo.) One of her playmates, 16-year-old Mina, also said that they could not
hear the voice of their teacher over the din of helicopters and war planes. So too with young Gina, 14,
who added: “I couldn’t concentrate on my studies because I was worried about my family who might
inadvertently get hurt and especially for the comrades (NPA) there in the forest.” (Hindi ko rin maiconcentrate ang pag-aaral ko dahil sa pag-aalala sa mga pamilya na baka madamay at lalo na sa mga
kasama [NPA] doon sa gubat.) Other children shared not going to school for a week to over a month.
The schooling of children is also affected when teachers fail to report for duty because they are too
scared of the fighting, even when it had subsided. Respondents in Abra reported that the school in a
neighboring barangay was closed for about a month. Parents in Compostela Valley said that one of
their barrio’s teachers also took a month to return to work.
Families also stop children from going to school if there are reports of state military forces patrolling or
coming through their area. The fear is that the children would be accused of going to help the NPA –
62
for instance bringing food, passing information, bearing medicines and other supplies – or would be
forced by the soldiers to guide them.
In Capiz, 14-year-old Lula said that she stopped going to school for two weeks after soldiers stopped
her: “The military asked me if I really was going to school and that maybe I was just bringing food to
the NPA.” Gema, 16, was absent for a week for the same reason. (Tinanong ng militar kung papuntang
school at tinanong ng baka hahatid ng pagkain sa NPA.) A mother, 43-year-old Keanna, revealed that
some of her children have been too scared to go to school since September 2005 “Because once they
were used as guides by the Army. When their operations became frequent, I stopped some of my
children [from going to school] because I was scared.” (Dahil minsan ginagawang guide ng army.
Noong medyo madalas na ang operasyon, pinatigil ko na ang ibang anak ko (sa pag-aaral) kasi
natatakot ako.)
To be able to keep studying, children take much longer routes to sidestep military operations or
temporarily move in with relatives or friends living closer to school. Others are even forced to look for
additional paid work to pay for addional rent and food expenses incurred from having to temporarily
move to places nearer their schools. Ron of Abra, who had just entered high school, said that he would
cross into nearby Mountain Province on weekends to work two eight-hour days tending vegetables,
getting paid a tin of rice or P50-60 per day. These are not just minor inconveniences. Many say they
just fall further behind in their lessons and, sometimes, even momentarily stop studying until the
situation improves.
Finally, schools and day care centers have also been used as temporary AFP military camps and
evacuation centers. There were accounts from Abra, Mindoro Oriental, Capiz and Compostela Valley
of schools or their grounds being used as temporary camps by the military especially those which are
advantageously on higher ground and whose immediate surroundings are clear of trees and foliage.
Fifteen-year-old Eman of Capiz for instance says: “[Here], even without the [barangay] captain’s
permission, they stay in the school. Sometime they even break down the door or window to get in.”
([Dito], kahit walang permiso sa kapitan, naglalagi sila sa eskwelahan. Minsan naninira ng pinto o
bintana para makapasok.) Dennis, 15, added that the military uses their M-16 rifles to break the
jalousies and that: “If the students know the Army is there, they don’t go to school.” (Kung alam ng
estudyante may mga army, hindi pumapasok.)
Physical health problems
The research team did not come across any accounts of health infrastructure (i.e. health centers, clinics
or hospitals) being destroyed or damaged during fighting or otherwise. Nor did any community
respondents attribute problems in health service delivery to armed confrontations. The general lament
was insufficient health services and how difficult it is to find medical help, or how expensive it can be,
whenever a family member gets sick. Similarly, none of the local government officials spoken to
pointed to the armed conflict as causing problems in their delivery of health services.
As with education, health problems were greater for IDPs in evacuation centers than for those who
remained in their communities. Whether coming from respondents in Maguindanao, North Cotabato,
Compostela Valley or Surigao del Sur, the respondents described conditions in evacuation in vivid ,
harrowing detail.
The displaced remembered the meager rations and lost family livelihoods and incomes. Too often there
never seemed to be enough clean water to drink or bathe with. Unhealthy conditions seemed the norm.
The centers were overcrowded, the water was dirty, sanitation poor, and the evacuees were exposed to
the evening chill, winds and rain. Many families lacked even sleeping mats and slept on cardboard
boxes or bare floors. Thirteen-year-old Ramon of Surigao del Sur said that he will never forget how he
and his family never ate properly the entire length of their stay.
Rachma, 15, of Maguindanao remembered missing meals and sometimes not even having any rice to
eat. Fifteen-year-old Nawal also recalled sleeping without mats on a cement floor that was hot during
the day and cold at night, living just a wall away from a dumpsite, getting a ration of five kilos of rice
for five days from the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) and ten kilos a month
from OXFAM, going into debt, no longer playing outside, and drinking dirty water. She says: “I got
63
sick then with fever and colds. My siblings also got sick because it was so crowded. (Nagkasakit ako
noon, ubo at sipon. Mga kapatid ko nagkasakit din dahil masikip ang lugar.)
The thick suffocating smell of heat and perspiration mingling with the stench of human and animal
waste was also a recurring tale. Children inevitably came down sick and were often afflicted with
scabies, chicken pox, measles, diarrhea, coughs, colds, and fever. The members of Moro communities
in particular recalled how so many of them were afflicted with severe cases of scabies, with its
parasite-driven rashes and infections painfully spreading throughout their bodies. A mother in North
Cotabato mentioned the case of a nine-month-old baby, one of twins, dying because of scabies-related
infections. Yet families were unable to afford medical treatment and were forced to rely on often
inadequate or over-burdened health services provided by local governments and NGOs.
Elsewhere, affected families have had to deal with problems feeding their children which will
ultimately have detrimental effects on their health. Evacuees from Leyte recalled being unable to afford
anything else but rice. Teresita, a struggling mother, shared how her children foraged from garbage for
food to go with rice and how they sometimes settled for rice gruel, “because it’s easy to swallow even
without anything to go with it… just add salt.” (Minsan naglulugaw dahil madaling lunukin kahit
walang ulam. Lagyan lang ng asin.) Another mother, Tarits, sadly added: “My children would ask for
bread but I would have none to give. I would just cry.” (Nanghihingi ng tinapay ang anak ko, wala
naman ibigay. Iiyak na lang ako.) She said her children were having a difficult time but that they risked
being killed if they returned home.
Yet even those who remain in their communities face problems. During the FGD of Mangyan women
in Mindoro Oriental, the participants described how difficult it has become to feed their children:
“saddening” (nakakalungkot), “we feel like crying” (nakakaiyak), “always a problem” (lagi kong
pinoproblema) and “When you scoop the rice gruel and your children don’t think it’s enough, they cry.
But what can you do if there just isn’t enough?” (Pag sinasandok mo yung lugaw at sa tingin ng bata
kulang pa, nagaiiyakan. Paano dadagdagan e kulang na nga?)
Respondents recounted how children’s meals can become reduced as a result of families’ being
prevented from farming, hunting or gathering food. They also recalled buying far less food from
markets than they needed for fear of being accosted by soldiers and accused of bringing food to the
NPA. Women from Mindoro Oriental said: “When (the military) are here, all we have is lunch. That’s
it. No breakfast… no dinner. We get even more hungry if there happens to be a [military] operation.”
(Pag andito sila (militar), tanghalian na lang. Yun lang. Wala nang almusal... (sa gabi), wala din. Lalo
pang nadagdagan (ang gutom) pag natyempuhan ng operasyon.) Veda, 48, of Capiz in turn recalled:
“The military called the whole barangay to a meeting and said that it was forbidden to go to the
mountains. [They said] there were NPA. [They said] don’t give them food. But it’s the civilians who
don’t have food.” (Tapos nag-meeting ang mga military sa buong barangay ng bawal ng magpunta sa
bundok. Mayroon daw NPA. Huwag daw bigyan ng pagkain. Pero ang sibilyan ang walang pagkain.)
Parents from Surigao del Sur report that even after they returned to their village from their short
evacuation: “We were forbidden from bringing food. We were prohibited from bringing food from the
[the town center].” (Pinagbawalan kaming magdala ng pagkain. Pinagbawalang magpasok ng pagkain
mula sa ibaba.) Parents in Abra said that when they get short of rice in such situations they resort to
eating banana and corn as substitutes. Others deal with the situation by reducing their food intake and
eating rice gruel instead of the usual rice and viands.
The only other health-related effects of armed conflict the research team came across were individual
accounts of physical attacks on children. These are discussed later. In any case, the following were the
results of the child patients survey during the area medical missions among 705 respondents (rounded
off):
•
•
Stunting –
severe (13 percent)
Wasting –
64
0-5 years old: normal (26 percent), mild (15 percent), moderate (25 percent) and
severe (34 percent)
Vitamin A supplements (patak twice a year, for 0-5 years old) – yes (51 percent), no (40
percent), no answer (9 percent)
Vaccinations received (percent of total):
o
•
•
Table 4: Vaccinations reported received by children
Yes
No
No
answer
BCG
74
23
DPT-2
54
43
DPT-3
52
45
Polio-1
61
35
Polio-2
49
48
Polio-3
46
50
Measles
55
42
3
3
3
3
3
3
3
Traumas
Outside of direct or indirect physical harm to children, armed conflict situations have implications on
their socio-psychological well-being. War exposes them to violence – to themselves, their family and
friends – and the disruption of normal routines also creates abnormal environments to grow up in.
These difficult circumstances can have effects on the children, on their relationships and on the myriad
aspects of their daily lives. The study documented various manifestations of psychosocial trauma:
nervousness, sleeplessness, lack of appetite, staring blankly into space, silence, absent-mindedness,
recurring nightmares, depression, mood swings, impatience, irritability, withdrawal and attempted
suicide. Children also complained about what in many cases may well have been stress-related illnesses
especially insofar as there were precipitating abnormal events: headaches, muscle pains, cramps, chest
pains, nausea and fever.
There are various levels of impact. The most severe effects are on those whose family lives have
undergone drastic transformations – because of dislocation or the loss of close family members – or
who have themselves been direct victims of serious and deliberate violence. There are also those who
have been affected by the stressful nature of armed conflict situations such as fighting in or near their
villages and of the presence of unfriendly military forces in their communities.
The distinction between the effects of war in MILF areas and in NPA guerrilla fronts is again marked.
Children in Moro communities have been exposed to much higher levels of fighting, more frequently,
and have witnessed the destruction of their homes and villages. Displacement distances them from the
immediate violence but also makes their struggle for economic survival more intense. Children in NPA
guerrilla fronts, on the other hand, are exposed to less intense fighting and generally remain in their
communities. However, they have to deal with the pervasive effects of state forces’ entering their
communities while on counter-insurgency operations.
The child IDPs of Central Mindanao went through particularly traumatic events including evacuating
their villages amidst artillery fire, air strikes, and soldiers shooting in the air and burning their homes.
In many cases they managed to bring only a few articles of clothing with them, as they sought shelter
along riverbanks and under the trees. And even when they were able to make their way to crowded
evacuation centers, they had to deal with hunger, unsanitary conditions, sickness and death.
The Moro communities including the children have even developed a vocabulary to capture the myriad
effects of such traumatic experiences: “stress”. Likely learned from their experience with medical
personnel and other service providers in evacuation centers, the term was often used to describe various
sicknesses resulting from war situations. During the FGD of children in North Cotabato, for instance,
respondents used the term to refer to mental health problems that could not seem to be resolved. They
told of friends and family members who “weren’t crazy but just stared blankly into space” (laging
tulala pero hindi naman baliw). They became unresponsive and stopped talking, or cowered in fear
when they see men in fatigues or hear helicopters and planes flying overhead. Ishak, 12, was thrown in
the air by an explosion while his family was fleeing their village in 2003. When he reached the
evacuation center he apparently developed a high fever and had convulsions. Since then he
occasionally has what seem like epileptic seizures (including once during the research team’s field
visit). Friends say Ishak has become aloof and slow to react, although he has yet to be checked by
qualified doctors because his family cannot afford it.
65
Particularly notable among the North Cotabato and Maguindano child IDPs is a lingering sense of loss,
with many fond of reminiscing about how their homes, play time, studies and communities were before
fighting broke out. Many lamented, even years later, the loss of personal belongings like pencils,
notebooks and bags. Fifteen-year-old Asria of Maguindanao recalled: “I felt sad for our home which
soldiers burned down – they wore bonnets and all you could see were their eyes.” (Naawa ako sa
bahay namin, sinunog ng mg sundalo – naka-bonet ang mga sundalo, mata lang ang nakikita.) Zaida,
14, recalled soldiers burning their home, their belongings, her birth certificate and “even the Q’uran”
(Sinunog rin maging ang Koran). Musrifa, 9, of North Cotabato said that she will never forget their
home burning down and the loss of her shoes, bag and toys: “It hurt, I cried and cried. I also saw Nanay
(mother) and Tatay (father) cry.” (Masakit, umiiyak ng umiiyak. Nakita si nanay at si tatay nang
umiiyak.) Manna, 11, remembered being carried by her mother and running and running. Her father
tried to bring as much of their belongings and food as he could but “Tatay (father) had to leave them
behind because he was getting too tired to carry them” (Lahat noon ay naiwan sa mga paligid kasi
hindi kaya ng tatay ko kasi napapagod din). There was also a strong sense of invasion and intentional
destruction of their family or home space and many children repeatedly decried the looting and burning
of their homes, the slaughter of their animals, and the destruction of their trees and crops.
There also seemed to be a discernible sense of hopelessness among the Moro children, with many
skeptical about their future. This deep sense of lack of control over events, even despair, reflects what
was more openly articulated by Moro adults. A later chapter discusses the discouraging and
demoralizing effect of the perceived cycle of destruction and reconstruction of Moro communities
since the 1970s.
The antecedent events to traumas are somewhat different in areas of fighting between the AFP and
NPA, at least in the research areas visited. Firefights have been less intense and did not occur in
populated areas so there have not been any reports of villages damaged and of evacuations while under
fire. Something of an exception to this is in the case of Surigao del Sur where child and adult
respondents reported that soldiers went into their village and fired in the air and around their homes
even if there were no NPA guerrillas around. In any case, some battles did occur near enough villages,
so that the sounds of gunfire and explosions could be heard. In themselves these were enough to cause
children anxiety – because they were worried about their families or friends being caught in the
crossfire – as well as some trauma.
The most sustained incident of fighting in NPA areas the research team encountered was the one in a
mountain pass in Abra which lasted around two weeks. One victim was 17-year-old Neil. According to
his mother Glenda, 40, Neil was walking back from an errand to a store in the next barangay when the
bombings started and he was close enough to see the explosions and feel some of their shock waves.
He ran back home, complained that his chest and head ached, and lay down without eating his lunch.
When he woke up he said he dreamt that he was being chased by a helicopter, then vomited. Glenda
said that her son hardly ate and slept for two weeks after that and stopped going to school for around a
month. Neil’s younger brother also said that, even after an indigenous ritual to help him was
performed, Neil remained cranky, irritable and easily startled by loud noises. Today he remains distant
and absent-minded.
The children are also frequently afraid of soldiers. In Mindoro Oriental, 11-year-old Mila remembered
hearing soldiers threaten to kill anyone who goes to areas where they have been forbidden. Already
anxious because of this, she then said that she later heard an hour of distant fighting between the AFP
and the NPA in a late afternoon encounter. As a result: “I couldn’t sleep and was shaking for three
days.” (Tatlong araw na di makatulog at nanginginig.) Bong, 13, said that he was afraid that the
military might kill his parents. For himself he said that he is afraid he might say the wrong things if he
is questioned, that the thought is enough to make him shiver, and that “I imagine it even at night”
(Natatakot din ako kasi baka magkakamali ang sagot kung nagtatanong sila. Nanginginig ako...
talagang takot na takot ako... nag-iimagine ako kahit gabi.) Children in this and other FGDs also
shared similar stories of sleeplessness and shaking with fear.
From Leyte, 57-year-old Teresita said of one of her 12 children: “His mind has been affected. He had
been scared of the military even while we were still [in our village]. His body wasted away little by
little. He gets scared if he hears loud noises. He jumps around, runs and hides out of fear whenever he
hears a loud noise.” (Naapektuhan ang pagiisip. Natatakot sa militar didto pa sa bukid. Unti-unting
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bumagsak ang katawan nya. Nahadlok pag nakarinig ng putok. Sa sobrang takot, nagtatalo- talon,
tumatakbo, nagtatago pag may naririnig na putok.)
Rosa, 33, of Capiz recounted how her now 18-year-old nephew, Joselito, was beaten by soldiers and
afterwards tried to kill himself. After an NPA ambush of the military in 2003, soldiers in pursuit saw
Joselito and claimed that pig blood stains on his shirt were bloodstains from NPA casualties. He was
tied up and beaten and was released only when villagers looked for him and demanded his release. In
December 2005, Joselito saw soldiers on patrol in their village and was so frightened that he tried to
kill himself by drinking poison. Rosa said that they saved him by forcing him to drink honey, making
him vomit and bringing him to the nearest hospital. Another mother in the FGD added how, also in
2003, soldiers scared a young man by forcing him to dig what was ostensibly his own grave; his mood
changed completely after that and to this day he barely talks to anyone.
In Surigao del Sur, 13-year-old Risa was traumatized after her father and uncle were maltreated by
soldiers after they were stopped at a checkpoint because their motorcycle was laden with food. They
were tied up, beaten, made to walk kilometers barefooted, and force-fed raw eggplants. Risa sadly
recalls: “I got sick then after seeing my father’s and uncle’s wounds and the hardship they went
through. My younger sister also became sick because of this.” (Nang panahon ng mga iyon, ako ay
nagkasakit matapos makita ang sugat at kahirapan na dinaranas ng aking ama at tiyuhin. Kasamang
nagkasakit rin ang aking nakababatang kapatid na babae.)
Threats to Children
The already difficult circumstances of poor communities become even worse when they are perceived
by military or paramilitary forces as supporters of armed groups and then treated harshly for this. The
research team accumulated scores of accounts of deliberate verbal, mental and physical abuse by state
forces. Children have not been spared. At the very least they have been placed under great emotional
stress; in many instances they have also been physically harmed. At particular risk are children whose
parents or siblings are accused of being rebel supporters or even combatants.
To ourselves
The threats have been explicit. One of the participants in the children’s FGD in Abra shared: “When
the soldiers accused us of being children of the NPA they said, ‘Go home and tell [that] to your fathers
who are NPA!’ They threatened to slit our throats.” (Noong sinabi ng mga sundalo na anak kami ng
mga NPA sabi nila, “Umuwi kayo at magsumbong sa mga Tatay niyong NPA!” Tinakot kami na
gigilitan ang leeg.’) In Capiz, 12-year-old Alvin and his family lived on the outskirts of their village.
He said that soldiers forced them to move to the barangay center (proper) because “NPA lived in our
home” (tirahan daw ng NPA ay bahay namin) and that if they did not then they threatened to “riddle
our home with bullets” (Kung hindi tatadtarin nila ng bala ang bahay). Merlin, 38, was angry over
how two platoons of soldiers held his two fifth grade daughters, respectively 13- and 14-years-old, for
over two hours to try and make them say where the NPA were encamped. And supposedly to make up
for that, “the soldiers gave them candy after giving them a fright.” (Binibigyan ng army ng kendi tapos
naman takutin.)
Fourteen-year-old Tessie of Surigao del Sur was always afraid when soldiers come around and fearful
that they might kill her parents. She recalled one time in 2005: “They came to our home because they
said there were NPA. They shot it from the outside. [We were] scared because the Army said that we
should die because we were NPA. I don’t know what NPA they were talking about.” (Pumunta sila
dito dahil sabi nila mga NPA. Binaril ang bahay namin, sa labas ng bahay... Natakot dahil sabi Army
dapat mamatay raw kami dahil mga NPA daw kami. Di alam kung may NPA.) Nico was going on 19
but was still in his second year of high school. He recalled when soldiers held them in their school
because “my classmates and I were suspected of being NPA” (Pinagdudahan na NPA kaming mga
classmates) and how, when they were finally released, they were told they should leave their
community the following day “because whoever doesn’t go down is NPA and will be killed” (dahil
ang hindi bababa ay papatayin kasi NPA lang daw ang hindi aalis). Nine-year-old Flor also recalled:
“When we arrived there were already a lot of people there and that’s where the soldiers put us, while
other soldiers tightly guarded us [and warned] that whoever goes out is dead.” (At ng pagdating namin
doon marami na palang mga tao sa loob at doon kami pinasok ng mga sundalo, at ang iba mga
sundalo mahigpit na nagbabantay sa amin kung may lumabas daw ay patay.)
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Children have also been physically attacked. Ronald, 12, of Capiz told a harrowing tale of how soldiers
apparently vented their frustrations on his family after an NPA ambush on them: “A group of them held
me and kicked me. They kicked me three times on the chest and when I got up they grabbed a chicken
and hit me on the back with it. Nanay (mother) helped me up and embraced me when I fell after being
kicked. At the time I thought for sure that we were going to be killed. One of them even pointed a gun
at Nanay (mother) and said, ‘Maybe you want us to kill you!’ He said that we were being too plucky.
He said that we were relatives of NPA.” (Tapos iyong grupo nila, hinawakan ako tapos sinipa ako.
Tatlong beses ako sinipa [sa dibdib] tapos pagbangon ko kumuha pa ng manok at inihampas sa likod
ko. Binangon ako ni nanay dahil tumumba ako pagkasipa. Binangon niya ako at niyapos pagkasipa sa
akin. Di na nga ako umaasa na mabuhay pa kami ni nanay noong oras na iyon. May tumututuok kay
nanay at nagsasabing, “Gusto nyo siguro patayin kayo ah!” Mga matatapang daw kami. Kamaganak
daw namin mga NPA.) Ronald says his mother remains a nervous wreck, easily startled and shouting
whenever there are sudden loud noises.
In Mindoro Oriental, 14-year-old Jovit tells how black-garbed soldiers approached him while he was
fetching water near their home and looked for his mother. He recalled: “I was alone and they pointed
their guns at me. There were a lot of them, including their ‘manager’. Then suddenly one gun went off.
I was shocked but even if I was scared I ran to the house. Nanay (mother) wasn’t there.” (Ako lang
mag-isa ng tinutukan nila ako ng baril. Marami sila, yung manedyer din. Biglang pumutok. Natakot
ako bigla eh kahit natakot ako tumakbo ako sa bahay. Wala si Nanay.) I couldn’t sleep for two nights. I
was so scared but bore it and didn’t leave the house. The soldiers were gone when my mother arrived. I
really felt so afraid and I couldn’t sleep until I saw my mother.” (Dalawang gabi di nakatulog. Natakot
pero tiniis ko na di lumabas ng bahay. Dumating ang nanay ko na wala na ang mga sundalo. Ang
nararamdaman ko noon natatakot talaga hindi ako natutulog hangga’t di ko nakikita ang nanay ko.)
Mely, 48, of Capiz said that her children cannot go to school, bring their carabao to pasture, work in the
fields or even eat when the military is around. She criticizes the soldiers for their rough manner: “They
hurt even little children. They point their guns at them and hurt them.” (Kahit yung mga batang maliliit
sinasaktan. Tinutukan ng baril at sinasaktan yung mga bata.) Another mother, 33-year-old Maya, said
that soldiers went to her house and in-between gambling with playing cards harshly interrogated her
eight-year-old son about the NPA: “They held and dangled him by his head and said that if he didn’t
tell the truth they’d separate his head from his body… Because of these events we moved homes,
nearer the center [of the barrio]… I don’t want this to happen again.” (Hinawakan siya sa ulo at binitin
at sinabihan na kung hindi magsasabi ng totoo ay ihihiwalay ang ulo niya sa kanyang katawan... Dahil
sa mga pangyayari ay lumipat kami ng tirahan, malapit na sa sentro… Ayokong maulit pa ito.)
Many children told of situations where they were fearful even in their own homes. Although it was
difficult to probe deeper into in the context of the already wide range of topics covered by the FGDs, it
was nonetheless apparent that underlying many of the stories is a lack of security even in their own
homes. This is aggravated by the lack of predictability in the appearance of soldiers in their homes as
well as what they might do when they arrive.
This sense of insecurity has a different dimension in the case of the long-term and recurring IDPs. For
the children of Central Mindanao, the sense of loss when they left their homes, many of which were
destroyed in battle, is compounded by a sense of impermanence and its attendant security. Evacuation
centers and even the replacement houses they received upon return to their communities are invariably
seen as poor imitations of the homes they had lost.
The research team also came across some children who recounted how government soldiers forced
them to guide or spy for them. The military conducted three months of continuous operations in Andap
Valley in Surigao del Sur in 2005. Romy shared an experience he had when he was still 17: “[It was]
May 4, 2005, we were fishing in the river and I dropped by my uncle’s house. When my [13-year-old]
brother Pepe and I went back we saw the soldiers, about a hundred. They captured us and made us their
guides, beat us, and threatened us. We were kept as hostages for three days before we were released.
But they took my father, my brother Arnold and my uncle in exchange and they’re missing until now.”
(May 4, 2005, habang nangunguha ng isda sa ilog, pumunta ako sandali sa bahay ng uncle ko.
Pagbalik namin ng kapatid kong si Ramil [13], nakita namin ang mga sundalo, mga isang daan.
Dinakip kami at ginawang guide, binugbog, tinakot. Tatlong araw kaming hinostage, saka
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pinakawalan. Pero pinalit naman ang papa ko, kapatid ko na si Arnold at uncle ko na hanggang
ngayon missing pa rin.)
Sam recounted an attempt to recruit him as a government spy in 2001 when he was just 13 years old.
From Mindoro Oriental he was brought to Camp Aguinaldo, a major military camp in Quezon City in
the National Capital Region (NCR). He says that he was given P3,000 and offered to be put through
school: “They wanted me to spy on the NPA, to penetrate their ranks and find out where they usually
camp, where they store their firearms, and who their supporters are. I was to report to them every
week.” ([Ang] pinapagawa nila sa akin, manmanan ko yung mga NPA, sumama uli ako [sa kanila]
tapos [alamin] kung saan palagi naga-base, saan tinatago ang mga baril nila, [at] sino daw itong
nagasuporta sa NPA… tapos tuwing linggo magrereport ako sa kanila.) He recalled feeling afraid and
helpless for the three nights he was at the camp, and of soldiers even playing tricks on him. When he
made his way back home he remembered: “I grew even more afraid. I wished I had never been born.”
(Nadagdagan uli yung takot ko. Pumasok sa isip ko na sana hindi na lang ako nabuhay.)
My community, families and friends
Children are also very sensitive to the situation of their family, friends and classmates who under
normal circumstances would constitute their most immediate and secure social environment. Threats to
or violence inflicted on those closest to them can have serious effects.
Jerick, 16, an evacuee from Leyte, recalled the ordeal of his 18-year-old brother, Sandro, in the hands
of the military. Soldiers apparently seized Sandro early one morning and, accusing him of concealing
guns, brought him to their temporary base in a health center near the barangay hall where he was held,
interrogated and beaten for some three hours. Jerick says that his brother told him that he was
blindfolded, punched repeatedly, and slapped on the ears with a rolled-up newspaper. When he was
finally released and went home, Jerick remembers: “He was walking slowly, and quietly told me not to
say anything. [Or else the soldiers] would also get me… I felt so sorry for him, he’s my brother. He had
this look on his face as if he was about to cry. He had so many bruises on his stomach.” (Bagal
lumakad, mahina ang sabi sa akin na huwag maingay. Pati ako ay huhulihin daw... Naawa sa kanya,
kapatid ko yun eh. Mukha niya parang gusto niyang umiyak, madaming pasa sa tiyan.) He also says
that the military imposed a curfew of 10 p.m. especially for those, like his family, that they suspected
of being NPA guerrillas.
Sixteen-year-old Ambo of Compostela Valley said angrily that his father was picked up by the military
then tortured and killed with a gunshot in the mouth. Ambo’s mother is a full-time medical officer of
the NPA and so, although only studying as far as the third grade, he is now responsible for taking care
of his siblings aged 7-14 years old. Among the problems he has had to deal with is the military
showing around a picture of his youngest brother to bait their mother into surrendering: “The soldiers
blew-up his picture and posted it at their detachment with the words ‘son of NPA’.” (Ang larawan ay
pinalaki at ipinaskil ng mga sundalo sa kanilang detatsment at nilagyan ng markang “anak ng NPA”.)
He says: “I remember that picture which was taken when my youngest brother finished daycare and he
wrote his whole name on it and sent it to our Nanay (mother).” (Maalala kong ang picture na yon ay
kinunan noong nagtapos sa daycare ang aking nakababatang kapatid at kanyang sinulatan ng buong
pangalan at ipinadala sa aming Nanay.) The dedication said: “I love you Nanay (mother).”
In Surigao del Sur, Edgardo, 13, remembered being in school when he heard gunfire getting closer and
closer until soldiers arrived and started shouting at them to line up in the schoolyard. He recalled that
“They made the men line up and that’s when I started shaking with fear because I saw them dragging
my father and stripping him then pointing their guns at him, and then checking his body if it had marks
or symbols of being NPA… They also stripped my two brothers and examined their bodies.” (At
pinaghilera ang mga kalalakihan, doon ako nanginginig talaga sa takot kasi nakita kong hinila-hila
ang aking ama at pinahubad siya sa kanyang damit at tinutukan pa ng kanilang armas, at tinitingnan
kung may marka ba ang katawan o wala na simbolo ng pagka-NPA... Ang dalawa ko naman kapatid
na mga lalaki ang pinahubad at tinitingnan ang kanilang mga katawan.)
Lea, 11, said she saw two men being brought to the back of a store with plastic bags tied around their
head and then being beaten while their wives watched and cried with grief and worry. (May dalawang
[lalaki na] kinuha at dinala sa likod ng tindahan at ang ulo sinuotan ng plastic at binugbog ang
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katawan. At may ilang mga asawang babae na iyak ng iyak dahil nalungkot at nag-alala sa mga
binugbog na asawa.)
Sharon, 16, of Compostela Valley, said patrolling soldiers captured and killed her father in mid-2003
whom they accused of conniving with NPA rebels who had just ambushed a group of soldiers. She
said: “I’m still angry with the military who killed my father who was neither an NPA nor did anything
wrong. My father was just a farmer.” (Galit pa rin ako sa mga militar na pumatay sa aking ama hindi
naman siya NPA at wala siyang ginawang masama. Isa lamang magsasaka ang aking ama.) Nini of
Capiz, also 16 years old, said that they rapidly formed a group of women and children to troop to a
military camp to have her captured uncle released. They were eventually successful but she remembers
Army soldiers spitefully telling them: “If it was up to us, we would have just killed him someplace
where no one was around.” (Sagot ng Army, “Kung sa amin siya, pinatay na namin yun siguro sa
walang tao.”)
Alma, 13, of Mindoro Oriental and her family left their village in 2000 and lived with her grandmother
because, “Soldiers went to the house and said they were going to kill Tatay (father).” (May pumuntang
sundalo sa bahay, papatayin daw si Tatay.) They returned two years later but are still afraid because
soldiers are still asking around for her father: “Why is it like this again, why are they still looking for
him?” (Bakit ganun na naman, bakit hinahanap na naman?) Thirteen-year-old Raya of Leyte said that
her entire family left their village because Civilian Armed Force Geographical Unit (CAFGU)
paramilitaries were accusing her father of being an NPA guerrilla. She left immediately with her father
and mother, followed by her siblings, then her aunt.
The sum of these kinds of experiences has a very specific and pointed effect on these children: there is
an accumulation of anger and even a desire for vengeance directed primarily against the state armed
forces. Scores of children across all the areas said that they were mad at the military for all the abuses
they inflicted and that they are agitated by the mere memory of these. These result from what they
perceived as direct attacks against themselves, their families and friends, their communities and indeed
their very religion – which in the Moro communities is at the very top of the various disruptions of
their otherwise peaceful lives.
Many children’s anger leads to frustration at not being able to do anything about the situation. A few
articulated a desire for vengeance. The harshest indictments of state forces came from young teenagers.
Linda, 14, of Surigao del Sur was livid over an Army helicopter’s landing at their school, the soldiers’
capturing and torturing innocents, their killing one of their own, and making noises even during the
wake of their dead: “These soldiers are shameless, they’re animals.” (Walang hiya talaga ang sundalo
ngayon, hayop sila.) Tonina, 14, of Maguindanao blamed the military for the death of her younger
brother whom she longs to be with: “I want them all to die. In the next war, if there is one, I want all
those soldiers to be finished off and killed.” (Gusto na sana mamatay din silang lahat. Sana sa susunod
na giyera kung mayroon pa man, maubos at mamatay ang mga sundalong iyon.) Chabeng, also in his
early teens, of Capiz swore that “If I come across [an Army soldier] and I happen to be holding [a
weapon], I’m going to kill the –.” (Kung makita ang army at may hawak ako, patayin ko ang –.) When
asked, as part of the FGD, what he wanted for the future he replied: “I want to join the NPA to get even
with the army and to help the poor that the government is oppressing.” (Gusto kong maging BHB
upang makapaghiganti sa Army at makatulong sa mga pobre na dinadaig ng gobyerno.)
Not all the children were explicit in blaming state forces for their miseries. However what is notable is
that none among the over a hundred children reached by the research team expressed any hostility or
dislike for either the NPA or the MILF, at the same time that none indicated any liking for AFP
personnel (the closest being young boys in Abra, Mindoro Oriental and Capiz, who were enamored of
the AFP soldiers’ weaponry). There were also some children who expressed the view that they hoped
both sides would leave their areas (Mindoro Oriental, Leyte).
Coping, survival and growth
Disruptions to community life due to armed conflict-related factors can in principle elicit a wide range
of coping reactions from children. Coming from largely common backgrounds, the children in the
study shared common characteristics in terms of the capacities and circumstances that factored in the
coping reactions observed: coming from poor peasant families, living in remote rural communities with
functioning local organizations in place, and relatively long experience with armed conflict.
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Beginning from the premise that most children will be facing adversity and will be growing up not as
individuals in isolation but as members of their families and of their communities, this study calls
attention to a few notable examples that illustrate how children have been able to take active roles in
their family and community life. Children have been able to develop their own awareness and skills in
the course of this active participation in community life. It may be highlighted how far children are
able to take steps to overcome difficult circumstances to show that they need not always be seen as
passive victims. More concrete examples are contained in the research area profiles later in this report,
but some general themes are developed for now.
Children’s resources
Children are evidently active players in their respective communities and cannot but be involved in
many of its vital processes. The extent of their involvement and influence over these varies with some
community tasks, roles and responsibilities conventionally understood to be in the “adult” realm more
than others. Certainly the younger children, especially, until their early teens tend to be the most
dependent still. Nonetheless their involvement and exposure does have consequences in terms of how
they perceive their surroundings and the choices they willfully make.
Children are generally well-engaged in their respective families’ struggles for economic survival.
Production tasks commonly include attending to backyard animals, bringing carabaos to watering
holes, looking after goats and pigs, working family plots, and even entering into various farm labor or
off-farm wage work elsewhere. There were also many accounts of children working their way through
school and raising cash for their expenses. Children also played key roles in maintaining households:
cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, fetching water, gathering kindling, and so on.
Most probably as a result of exposure to village youth organizations and from listening to their elders
in informal situations, child FGD respondents in all the study areas were also able to articulate some
knowledge of local, and in some instances, even national social and economic issues. In particular,
some demonstrated awareness of the issues underlying the armed struggles in their areas (Abra, Capiz,
Surigao del Sur, North Cotabato, Maguindanao). They spoke of the NPA’s fighting to change society,
to end poverty and inequality, and to establish a free and sovereign Philippines. They spoke of wanting
to pursue peace and independence for the Bangsamoro people and of demanding that the government
respect their rights. The older children were generally the most articulate, but others as young as 9-10
years old were similarly articulate, especially in the course of explaining the drawings they had made.
Children’s participation in production work and domestic chores is important in establishing them as
vital to the central concerns of survival of people and communities and this involvement reveals the
capacities they have. In coping with situations of armed conflict, however, children’s awareness of the
essential reasons for the armed conflict, and identification with one side or the other are of particular
relevance. Having an ideological “structure” against which to frame the many stressful, violent and
disturbing things happening around them can go a long way towards enabling them to process these
and mitigating some of their more severe effects.
Events no longer happen without an explanation. There is a reason for them, and there are concrete
parties involved. This personal awareness is likewise usually shared by those closest to them, by family
and friends, which implies the existence of a collective mechanism for mutual emotional support. Even
the unspoken body language of parents, siblings, playmates and neighbors is significant. This collective
awareness in turn is usually complemented by a mechanism for organized action: local community
organizations. Taken all together, children, families and the community can make headway against
alienating and demoralizing feelings of helplessness and disempowerment. They are also in a much
better position to access outside allies, resources and support.
The sheer intensity of sustained conflict can still be extremely debilitating, and there is an undercurrent
of hopelessness especially among many Moro respondents, about their condition. Some of the young
are skeptical about their future, given the seemingly endless cycle of war in their communities which
discourages them from working towards the improvement of their lives (North Cotabato,
Maguindanao). Even if they concentrate their efforts on improving their lot, there is a sense that
because of the certainty of war, those efforts will come to nothing. This discourages collective efforts
in improving their lives and there is a palpable weakening of community morale. Given the cycle of
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destruction and reconstruction in these communities these attitudes, shared by adults and children, are
not surprising.
Children’s efforts
How do children deal with the economic and emotional consequences of adverse events? Close family
members and relatives are conventionally the first sources of support. Prayers and faith were frequently
invoked as providing some kind of comfort and security especially in North Cotabato and
Maguindanao. But it is also important that children be active players in their community and
participants in community life: that they are not completely uninformed, that they have a stake in their
community, that they have a sense of solidarity with others, and that they have the capacity to act. It
also important to mobilize personal and community resources to contribute to their capacity to deal
with the various problems arising from armed conflict.
It was observed in all the research areas that children have taken on bigger roles and assumed more
responsibilities in terms of the family’s livelihood as well as in caring for siblings and even parents and
other elders. Children have increased their participation in paid work to help support their families or
their continued studies following the loss, destruction or interrupted access to families’ economic
resources (or the incapacity of victimized parents). Very young children have been forced to stop
attending school completely and to work because of the death or disability due to war of a parent,
especially the male head of family.
Apart from these, children have also engaged in community struggles especially through local
community organizations. Parents in the FGD in Abra credited the local organization and its frequent
meetings for sharpening children’s grasp of the issues that the country and they face, for helping them
build notions of collective action, and for enabling them to take concrete steps to resist the entry of
destructive mining operations. They are contrasted with “unorganized” (di organisado) youth who
“don’t know their future and what is happening because they don’t understand” (hindi niya alam ang
future at kung ano ang nangyayari dahil hindi niya maunawaan). In Capiz, for instance, a group of 25
women and children bravely marched to a military camp to demand the release of a young male
accused by the military of being an NPA fighter. The clearest instances of empowerment have been
manifested in civilian acts of resistance against the military.
The experience of growing up around the CPP-NPA-NDFP and MILF-BIAF has many ramifications.
Respondents’ accounts tend to show that these armed groups have opened up or encouraged
opportunities for participation by children in the communities in affairs beyond themselves. Remote
rural communities on their own generally provide limited alternatives for children to formally organize
or otherwise contribute to building the “social capital” of their communities. These “radical-inspired”
outlets are then attractive and can even be seen as the source of emerging traditions of empowerment.
They are also concrete outlets for children to participate in community collective processes that
develop their knowledge and awareness, skills and creativity, and self-confidence and self-worth.
Controversially for many outsiders, children have also volunteered support for the NPA and MILF.
This volunteerism is premised on the credibility these groups have in the communities, a credibility
which seems to be genuine and does not merely derive from sheer military control. Respondents have
said much about NPA efforts at improving the health conditions, educational levels and economic
security of communities. With the MILF the religious motivation and the high esteem for mujahideen
is clearly strong. The NPA and MILF appear appealing, even prestigious, to both youth and adults.
Especially in a situation when civilians face grave threats to personal safety from abusive state forces,
the tendency to join these groups tends to be strong. The team encountered a few current NPA fighters
for whom this was indeed the case (Capiz, Leyte, Compostela Valley).
At the end of the FGDs, the children were asked about their hopes, dreams and aspirations. The most
commonly expressed desire was “simply” to finish school and to help their families – which is perhaps
not so simple in their often exceptionally difficult circumstances of poverty and armed conflict. Many
also expressed a desire for scholarships, teachers in their schools, schools in their village, or at least
roads and bridges to access nearby schools.
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Beyond school, various preferred careers or occupations were also mentioned, from the most basic
needed for subsistence, to professional careers, to joining the rebel groups: kaingin farmer, coal-maker,
construction worker, teacher, nurse, police, mechanic, engineer, doctor, lawyer, scientist, pilot,
president, Ustadza, NPA guerrilla and others. In the context of an exercise in wishful thinking, the
articulation of desires to merely survive as their parents are surviving is both poignant and revealing
about how hard even mere subsistence is for so many.
Yet there were also many who had high hopes and articulated a vision of the kind of community and
society that they want for themselves: peaceful,, land of their own, national freedom, and freedom for
the Bangsamoro.
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CHAPTER 4.
Children, the CPP-NPA-NDFP and the MILF-BIAF
The conventional stereotype of children living in armed conflict areas is that of passive victims caught
in the crossfire of a war not of their making and lost in the middle of a conflict completely outside their
“normal” lives. Certainly, as this study also found, many children in these areas endure abuses,
injustices, suffering and intolerable hardships. However a more nuanced picture also emerged in the
course of the research: children articulated awareness of their social environment and made conscious
decisions to participate in the efforts to transform it, albeit in varying degrees. Moreover, in the specific
context of the research areas, it seemed that this phenomenon is to a large extent linked to the
protracted nature of the country’s armed conflicts where decades of presence in the communities by the
Communist Party of the Philippines-New People’s Army-National Democratic Front of the Philippines
(CPP-NPA-NDFP) and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front-Bangsamoro Integrated Auxiliary Force
(MILF-BIAF) have gradually built a culture of “dissent”, “struggle” or “rebellion.” Among the
manifestations of the “taking root” of armed conflict are the apparently shared objectives of substantial
portions of communities, including women and children, and the armed groups.
Perhaps the most controversial expression of this “taking root” crystallizes in the issue of so-called
child soldiers which has become a focus of attention in recent years. At the same time, there is little
documented information on the real extent of this phenomenon and of its dynamics particularly in
terms of the armed groups’ internal organizational processes. This indeterminacy has both complicated
and hindered efforts at dealing with the matter of child combatants and non-combatants.
Thus, this study particularly sought to look into the CPP-NPA-NDFP’s and the MILF-BIAF’s officially
stated policies and procedures regarding the involvement in combat or other forms of participation by
children in their activities. The research tried to explore the mechanisms and dynamics by which
declared policies have been put into practice on the ground. The issue was probed through various
methods where the respondents of the study in the communities as well as in the armed groups
themselves were asked about their views, practices and observations.
The research team solicited official statements of policy from the CPP-NPA-NDFP and the MILFBIAF leadership. The actual experience of implementation in the field was probed in the field research
areas. Relatively less difficulty was encountered in field data-gathering with the NPA compared to the
MILF, with the result that more information was obtained in the case of the former.
On children wishing to join the New People’s Army (NPA)
The actual experience of implementation by the CPP-NPA-NDFP in the field was first probed through
interviews with local NPA units and, where relevant and possible, with community respondents. The
local NPA officials interviewed have been active in their respective areas of operation since at least the
mid-1990s, with some active since the 1970s. Community respondents were also asked about the
involvement of children during the FGDs and during life story interviews. After the field work,
members of the Executive Committee of the CPP Central Committee (CPP EC-CC) were interviewed
through an emailed questionnaire about, among others, the official policy and organizational process
regarding recruitment to the NPA.1
Official Policy on Combatants
The CPP said that its political bureau resolved to adopt the explicit policy of a minimum age
requirement of 18 years old for NPA fighters as early as 1988, upon noting a trend in the early- to mid1980s of markedly increasing numbers of teenagers joining the NPA. Also around that time, the CPP
and the NDFP formed a special task force (“Task Force Geneva”) to study the Geneva Conventions
and Protocols on human rights and international humanitarian law to study their consistency with the
basic principles, rules and practice of the CPP-NPA-NDFP. This examination was for the purpose of
formally acceding to these conventions and protocols.
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In October 1999 the CPP’s EC-CC issued a memorandum to all Party organs and NPA commands
declaring adherence to International Humanitarian Law (specifically Article 77, Paragraph 2 of
Protocol I of 8 June 1977 additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949 and relating to the
Protection of Victims of International Armed Conflicts) and recognizing the United Nations
Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC). Moreover, it also declared automatic accession to the
then merely proposed optional protocol to the UNCRC prohibiting the recruitment of children below
18 years of age into armed groups as well as their participation in hostilities.2
The 1999 memorandum also amended Point 1 of Principle III of the Basic Rules of the NPA which
read:
“Anyone who is physically fit, regardless of age, sex, race, nationality or religion and has the
capacity to fight and ready to participate in a protracted armed struggle against the reactionary
state power, may be a member of a fighting unit of the New People’s Army.”
This was amended to read:
“Any person, who is at least 18 years of age and is physically and mentally fit, regardless of
sex, race, nationality or religion, has the capacity to fight and is ready to participate in armed
struggle against the reactionary state power, may become a combatant or a member of a
fighting unit of the New People’s Army.
“Any person, not less than 15 years of age, may be admitted as a trainee or apprentice of the
New People’s Army and may be assigned to self-defense, militia and other non-combat units
and tasks.
“In the event of enemy aggression against or encroachment on the territory of the people’s
democratic government, all persons above 15 years of age may be mobilized for self-defense,
provided that priority among those below 18 years of age but more than 15 years of age shall
be given to the eldest ones in the distribution of weapons of self-defense.”
According to the CPP EC-CC, it also interprets the 1999 memo as “[reiterating its] formal accession
through the NDFP to all human rights and international humanitarian laws in accordance with the
Geneva Conventions and related protocols” and asserts that it “declared automatic accession to [the
proposed Optional Protocol to the Convention on the Rights of the Child, including the 18 years
minimum age provision for recruitment into combat units] even before it was signed as an international
treaty two years later.”
The Central Committee reiterated these policies regarding the age requirement during its 11th Plenum in
late 2002, issuing a resolution to that effect, and once again required compliance by all NPA units. The
CPP EC-CC also claims that even if the Optional Protocol to the UNCRC itself permits voluntary
recruitment under 18 years of age subject to meeting minimum safeguards, it “does not entertain any
exception” and that the central leadership in fact “[turned down requests] by some NPA units [for]
certain case-to-case exemptions”.
Moreover, Article 10 of Part IV on Respect for International Humanitarian Law of the Comprehensive
Agreement on Respect for Human Rights and International Humanitarian Law (CARHRIHL) between
the Government of the Republic of the Philippines (GRP) and the NDFP, signed by their respective
principals in 1998, states:
“[Both] parties shall provide special attention to women and children to ensure their physical
and moral integrity. Children shall not be allowed to take part in hostilities.”
All told, these documents comprise the CPP-NPA-NDFP’s official policy on the minimum age for
joining the armed forces of the NPA. The CPP practices “centralized leadership and decentralized
operations” that it deems appropriate and practical for the conduct of its “protracted people’s war”
given the archipelagic character of the Philippines. The implementation of policies for joining the
NPA, including with respect to under-aged applicants, reflects this.
Implementation process
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The EC-CC explained that the main mechanism for dissemination of the policy was through a memo to
the various Party organs and NPA commands coursed through official channels. In addition, the 1999
memo was also published in the official CPP news organ Ang Bayan. In the late 1980s the “direct
investigations conducted by Task Force Geneva in various regions and local units of the Party and the
NPA” also served as venues for dissemination. The EC-CC also said:
“[The] Protocol II document has become part of the training course for NPA officers. It has
been translated into Pilipino and other local languages and disseminated among Party units
and NPA commands.
“Also, the Breukelen Joint Declaration and the CARHRIHL documents, both of which
emphasize the importance of international standards and international humanitarian law, have
been translated into the major languages and are widely disseminated and studied within the
Party, [the] NPA and revolutionary mass organizations.”
The various interviews with NPA officials and fighters, community residents, parents and children
enable a composite picture to be drawn of the process of joining the NPA. The basic condition is set by
how the NPA builds and maintains close relations with communities insofar as this is integral to its
approach of “people’s war”. Within this context, the NPA is able to attract volunteers from the rural
communities who are mainly young men and women, but who may also be older community residents.
It is also apparently able to attract youth, workers and even some professionals from the cities.
Conversely, keeping that relationship with the community on good terms and assuring continued
community support implies that the NPA cannot be seen as “forcing” anyone to become a guerrilla.
Prospective NPA applicants have usually already taken any of a number of basic ideological courses
given by the CPP-NPA-NDFP as well as built some kind of track record of performing “revolutionary
tasks” related to the wide range of the NPA’s non-military activities. It appears that these are
considered important in terms not only of the individual applicant’s readiness for and commitment to
the rigors of guerrilla life, but also towards protecting the security and credibility of the NPA. The
applicant usually presents himself or herself to the NPA unit active in his or her community or
otherwise courses the request through any formal NDFP organizational channels. The application is
then considered by the relevant parties including, apparently, the communities. All NPA guerrillas are
colloquially called “full-time” (pultaym) even as there is no corresponding “part-time” guerrilla.
Some stereotypes about motivations for joining an armed group drawn from other countries’
experiences do not seem valid in the Philippine context. Communities appear to be aware of how much
of the NPA’s time is devoted to its various forms of non-combat “mass work”. This would tend to
imply that the glorification of warlike activities, military adventurism and the idealization of violence
are unlikely to be motivating factors. There also does not seem to be any sustained scheme of financial
or material incentives for NPA guerrillas. Although NPA units apparently do try to provide some kind
of support depending on their capacity and the needs of individual guerrillas’ families, these seem to
often be less than guerrillas might have earned by working full-time on their farms or doing odd jobs.
The NPA also does not appear to engage in “recruitment drives” or “quota enlistment” and there have
for instance been accounts of would-be guerrillas actually being turned away.
If there are those who joined in the hope of “protecting” their families, this is a protection that is
actually not so immediate and is best understood as protection in a general and more ideologicalpolitical sense. As a guerrilla force, the NPA neither engages in positional defense of communities
against the AFP nor does it have the capacity to undertake punitive actions against each and every
abuse or human rights violation committed by the AFP. On the contrary, having a known NPA member
in the family or community in fact invites retaliation from the AFP rather than deterrence.
The field data gathered from various sources raised the following points relevant to the issue of
implementation of the declared policy on the age requirement for NPA fighters:
The issuance of the 1999 memo and subsequent clarifications were important administrative
steps in the implementation of the age requirement policy which was declared as early as 1988.
After some six years of implementation, there appears to be universal awareness among NPA officials
and regular fighters of the 1999 memo and its essential content. According to respondents the 1999
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policy was circulated as a memo through official organizational channels, made part of the basic
documents of leadership, reiterated orally and in writing, and also disseminated through various articles
in publications of the revolutionary movement (including the bi-monthly CPP news organ Ang Bayan,
the quarterly NDFP magazine Liberation, and assorted regional newspapers of the underground
movement). In particular it was noted that internal clarifications of official policy were regularly made
in response to the prominence given the issue in the mainstream mass media.
This situation regarding the 1999 policy contrasts with what appears to be only a vague general
awareness among current NPA officials of the original 1988 policy and its general content. Many could
not even place exactly when this was drawn up and how it was disseminated. This could be because
many of them were not yet regular guerrillas at the time and even those who were already active then
were not necessarily already in responsible positions to know such specific details. In any case, the
study was unable to probe in detail NPA organizational processes in the late 1980s regarding the age
requirement.
Key informant NPA officials in Abra, Mindoro Oriental, Capiz, Leyte and Surigao del Sur said that the
memo was received at their respective guerrilla front levels sometime in 2000. They related that the
memo was discussed in formal meetings as part of their regular agenda with subsequent dissemination
down to the platoon level during their briefings, planning and assessments. Other formal venues for
dissemination included various internal Party courses and mass courses.
Ka Lea, an NPA cadre in Compostela Valley, recalled: “At the 11th plenum of the Central Committee
of the CPP, there were special documents including on the recruitment of minors. These were issued
and discussed in the Regional Command Conference of the South Mindanao Region… This was
brought all the way down to the Party branches at the local level.” (Sa 11 playnum sa Komite Sentral sa
CPP, mayron talaga yang special documents kasama na rin yong recruitment on minors. Pinababa yan
at napag-usapan sa regional command conference sa SMR, pinag-usapan din yan sa mass work
conference sa SMR… Hanggang sa mga sanga ng partido sa hanay sa mga lokalidad pababa talaga
yan.)
Ka Onil, a 49-year-old Political Instructor (PI) of a platoon in Abra, said he understood the 1999
memorandum to be towards “compliance with international law” (pagpapatupad sa internasyunal na
batas) even as he noted that he was aware that the threshold could be 15 years old “with safeguards”.
Ka Maria, 44 and also a PI in Capiz, likewise said that she understood the memo to be about “the
revolutionary movement complying with the Protocol and to show that we strictly follow policies”
(pagtalima sa Protocol ng kilusan at ipakita na sumusunod tayo ng mahigpit sa mga patakaran). She
was 16 years old when she joined the NPA in 1978.
There is widespread awareness of the minimum age requirement in the communities among
adults, youth and even children. There is a general awareness among community residents of the
minimum age requirement policy even if, as might be expected, hardly any attributed this specifically
to the 1999 memo or any other official policy document. Many said that they formally learned about
the policy in the course of educational discussions with the NPA on its policies and programs. Word of
mouth has apparently also been important either among themselves or when the NPA comes around.
There were children who said that they found out from their parents. Also contributory were the
personal experiences of underaged applicants from their communities who were asked to go back home
first and wait for the proper time. NPA officials interviewed added that CPP and NPA cadres discuss
the policy with local Party units, the militia and mass activists.
When Marilyn, one of the children participating in the FGDs in Abra, was asked what her hopes were
she answered: “We want to end the violence. We want to join [the NPA] but we can’t yet, we’re still
minors. But that is still a challenge for us. An aspiration.” (Gusto naming sugpuin ang mga karahasan.
Nais naming sumampa pero hindi pa pwede, minor pa kami. Pero hamon pa rin sa amin iyon.
Pangarap.) She was also asked if she thought her joining the NPA would end state violence. Her reply:
“That will happen even if we don’t join. We can still help with gathering and giving information.”
(Matutupad naman iyon kahit hindi kami sumampa. Pwede kaming tumulong sa pangangalap at
pagbibigay ng impormasyon.)
Parents in Abra province also shared during their FGD: “We don’t deny that we study with them and
discuss that there should be an age limit for joining. That’s where they shared the policy on 18-and-up
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for those wanting to join. Ever since they corrected their mistakes in 1992, they have strictly
implemented not allowing minors.” (Hindi namin ikakaila na nakikipag-aralan din kami sa kanila at
natalakay namin doon na dapat may limit ang age sa pagsampa. Doon nila naibahagi na meron silang
patakaran na 18 pataas ang pagsampa. Mula ng nagtuwid sila ng kamalian noong 1992, istrikto na
ipinatutupad na hindi dapat lumahok ang mga minor.)
Much the same was said during the women’s FGD in Capiz: “Minors really can’t join the NPA… The
policy of the NPA has changed. You can’t join if you’re not over 18 years old. There was someone
from Libacan. Because he was just 17 he wasn’t accepted… The NPA doesn’t force children to join
them.” (Hindi naman talaga pwede ang mga menor de edad na sumali sa NPA… Ang policy ng NPA
ngayon ay nagbago. Hindi pwedeng sumampa kung hindi lampas sa 18 years old. Mayroon sa
Libacan. Dahil 17 years old pa lang siya, hindi siya tinanggap… Hindi namimilit ang NPA na sumali
sa kanila ang bata.) A parent, 52-year-old Danilo, said: “For minors who want to join, the NPA tells
them to just wait.” (Sa mga batang menor de edad na nais sumampa, sabi ng NPA ay maghintay
muna.)
Sixteen-year-old Ambo’s mother is a full-time NPA guerrilla in Compostela Valley while his father,
formerly also in the NPA, was killed in 2003. Last year, he said, “My older sister Bing left when she
turned 18. She followed our mother.” (Umalis na rin ang aking Ate Bing nang tumuntong siya ng 18.
Sumunod kay inay.) Ambo also says, “I am just waiting a few more years before I can be with them.”
(Ako ay maghihintay ng ilan pang taon bago makasama sa kanila.)
A barangay captain interviewed in Compostela Valley also knows of the age requirement policy.
“When recruiting they should be 18. Not 17 and two months and then let it slide. They should be firm
at 18. If not, they will be criticized. 1998, 1999, 2000 [there were still] lapses. But now there aren’t any
more.” (Dapat pag-recruit karon, 18 gyud. Dili 17 at 2 buwan tapos running-running. Dapat nakastanding still na 18. Tapos kapag hindi, puna-puna. 1998,1999, 2000, lapas-lapas pa na. Pero karon
wala na gyud.)
At the same time there were parents who volunteered their opinions about the age requirement. For
Veda, a 48-year-old mother in Capiz: “[The applicant] should be of age, because children who join
might still change their mind and that would be our fault. We ourselves want a policy that children
cannot join if they are just 15.” (May edad ang kailangan, kasi kung bata pa sumampa na maaari pang
magbago ang isip, maging kasalanan pa namin yun. Kami, gusto namin na may patakaran kami na
kapag bata ay di pwedeng sumali, kung sa edad na 15.)
Similarly, 66-year-old peasant Demetrio said: “At 18 they are able to think maturely already. If they’re
too young they may not be ready yet although it does depend on them and whether or not they are
sincere. At 18 they are already of sound mind. But then even if children are children and they are still
not yet 18, their right to join cannot be taken away from them.” (Kung 18 may mature na pag-iisip na
sila. Kung bata pa may di pa kahandaan pero depende na iyon sa kanila basta sincere sila. Dapat 18
dahil nasa tama nang pag-iisip. Dahil ang kabataan kahit bata pa, kahit di pa 18 di pwedeng konan ng
right na sumali.)
Ka Bon Jovi is a 20-year-old guerrilla in Capiz. He said that when he decided to join the NPA he still
had to wait for the right time. “I estimated when I would be close to 18 before going full-time. A few
months before… I monitored my surroundings for where the [NPA] unit was. I did this for two months.
The first time I monitored them they were far away. The second time they were close by. Then one day
they were there… Even my mother, my siblings, they knew about my decision… It was my
grandmother who talked to me. She said, ‘That’s where your aunt came from, and your uncle. It’s good
that someone is carrying on.’” (Tinantsa ko na bago ako mag-pultaym ay malapit na ako mag-18. Ilang
buwan na lang ay mag-18 ako... patuloy ang pag-monitor ko sa paligid kung nasaan ang yunit. Mga 2
buwan na mino-monitor ko sila. Iyong una kong monitor ay malayo pa sila. Iyong pangalawa kong
monitor ay malapit na sila. Isang araw na lang nandiyan na sila. ... Kahit ang nanay ko, mga kapatid,
nalalaman lang nila na may ganito akong desisyon. ... Si Lola ang humarap sa akin. Ang sabi niya:
“Diyan din nanggaling ang mga tiya mo, ang mga tiyo mo. Mabuti iyang may nagpapatuloy.”)
Community residents and NPA officials were asked what factors underlay the differing appreciation of
the policy’s importance. Basically two reasons emerged: 1) where community practice is that
“children” assume “adult” responsibilities, and hence virtual “adulthood”, at ages much earlier than 18
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years old; and 2) where the NPA is seen as the safest place for certain children at risk from the military
because their parents or siblings are known NPA fighters.
It was frequently invoked especially in upland tribal areas how it is not unusual for children as young
as 13 or 14 years old to not be in school and already be married or otherwise be already primarily
concerned with eking out difficult livelihoods. It was frequently argued that if they can already support
families then they should also similarly be able to choose to enlist in the NPA.
There were also many instances when parents themselves felt compelled by circumstances and would
rather that their children were “safe” with the NPA rather than expose them to possible attack from the
military in their homes. This was particularly the case where children of alleged supporters or NPA
fighters themselves were seen to be more vulnerable if they stayed in their communities.
A 40-year-old Tumandok peasant in Capiz, Ramon, for instance said: “For me even if they’re under 17
if they’re of sound mind and ready they should be allowed because they’re scared of the military. Who
will they go to?” (Sa pagtingin ko kahit below 17 kung tama na ang kaisipan at handa pwede na dahil
natatakot sila sa military. Kanino sila pupunta?)
Another villager, 44-year-old Enrico, said: “Ever since, from what I have seen, the NPA doesn’t recruit
children but I see children who go in because they’re so angry at the summary executions of the Army.
They themselves want to join even if they’re just children. The NPA wouldn’t accept them because
they’re still children, but even if they’re not armed they are determined to tag along with the NPA
because they’re so angry [at the Army]. For me as long as they’re open and it’s their decision it’s fine
with me. The military anyway forced them to do that… The NPA doesn’t force anyone. Even if you’re
25 but you’re not ready, they still won’t accept you.” (Noon pa, sa aking nakita, ang NPA hindi nagrerekrut ng kabataan ngunit nakita ko na kabataan ang pumapasok dahil sa galit nila sa mga pagpangsalvage ng Army. Sila na mismo ang sumasama kahit kabataan. Hindi sana tatanggap ang NPA dahil
bata pa, pero kahit walang armas sasama dahil sa galit [sa Army]. Sa akin basta bukas at iyon ang
deretcho ayos na sa akin. Military din naman ang nagpwersa sa kanila dun…. Ang NPA di namimilit
dahil kahit 25 na at di pa handa di nila tinatanggap.)
Ka Lea, 50, is the Finance Officer of their platoon in Leyte and is married to another NPA fighter.
When local mass organizations in their village came under attack in 2004, their two female children
aged 15-16 were taken by an NPA unit to “keep them safe” (para ma-safety). She insisted that they
were not made combatants and instead transferred as soon as possible to another area where they were
assigned to medical, propaganda-education, printing and other non-combat tasks.
Communities have a role in implementing the minimum age requirement. Part of the formal
procedures for joining the NPA regardless of the age of the applicant are approval and
recommendations from the local CPP branch in the community and, in the case of tribal areas, the
consent of the community’s elders. There does not seem to be a formal requirement to consult with the
applicant’s parents although this still seems to be done (even if the applicant is over 18 years old).
Their parents are in any case often also members of the local CPP branch, local militia or local mass
organizations and thus already have full knowledge of their children’s plans to join the NPA. It also
seems to be a cultural practice among Filipinos that most of the youth still ask the permission of their
parents and tell other family members before joining the NPA.
Forty-nine-year-old Ponciano of Capiz recalled: “My child asked my permission and I said, ‘If you
want to go full-time with the NPA wait until you’re the right age. Be active in our village until you’re
ready. The time will come when you’ll be holding an Armalite (M-16). Wait until you’re the right age
when the NPA comes around.’” (Ang anak ko namamaalam na, sinabihan kong, “Kung gusto mo mafull-time sa NPA hintayin mo ang tamang edad. Kumilos ka muna sa barangay hanggang handa ka na.
Darating din ang panahon na magdadala ka ng Armalite. Maghintay ka na sa tamang edad pagdaan
ng mga NPA.)
Sixteen-year-old Myra of Capiz, daughter of a long-time local mass leader, said that she has wanted to
join the NPA since she was 13 years old. She said that she was too shy to tell them but when she was
14 she finally did and told them: “Just wait and we’ll be together when I turn eighteen.” (Hintayin
niyong mag-18 na ako at magkakasama na tayo.) Myra says that the NPA asked her father if he would
allow her to join and that he replied that he could not do anything about it if that was what she wanted,
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and that anyway it was the right thing to do. She said that the NPA promised that they would pick her
up at her home when she turned eighteen. “But my father said to study first,” Myra adds, “[and] that it
would be better if I had some schooling when I joined.” (Pero ang sabi na tatay mag-aral muna ako.
Mas mabuti daw kung may pinag-aralan ka na sa pagpasok mo dyan.)
Sixteen-year-old Jimmy of Surigao del Sur is the third of four children and his father is a leader in their
community’s peasant organization. He said that he has known about what the NPA does since he was
10 and, along with his cousins, often volunteered to help carry their supplies when they pass through.
He asked permission from his parents to join the NPA when he was 12, but they said that he was too
young and that becoming an NPA guerrilla was not play. He still dreams of peace in the country and
wants to help achieve this by joining “the true army of the people” (ang tunay na hukbo ng
mamamayan).
An NPA fighter in Compostela Valley, 29-year-old Ka Limol, shared how their unit started to be
stricter with implementation of the age requirement around 2000 but had some difficulty justifying the
policy to the community themselves: “We didn’t want to tolerate violations of the policy but parents
can be insistent. [Applicants] really try to find ways to come with us and would cry when we leave
them. So we really had to find ways to explain [without offending them]. It helps if we’re able to talk
to the mothers and fathers but even there we still have a ways to go before they’re all convinced.”
(Ayaw naman natin mag-kunsinte pero may magulang din na nagpipilit. Hahanap talaga ng paraan na
sumama at talagang umiiyak kung iniiwan sila. Hahanap ka talaga ng paraan. Pwede kung makausap
natin ang mga nanay at tatay pero may kailangan pa talagang habulin sa kanila sa usapin ng
pagpaliwanag.)
It appears that the NPA relies for much of its support from the communities and this backing, in turn, to
a large degree seems to depend on the credibility of the NPA with the community. From the point of
view of implementing the minimum age requirement, the parents and the communities’ organizations
and indigenous socio-political structures can be functioning channels for policy implementation insofar
as these organizations and structures themselves accept the validity of the policy. There was one
comment during an FGD, in Capiz, that highlighted this point: “The NPA doesn’t force anyone. We
ourselves are the ones who organize the people and the youth to join the NPA at the right time.”
(Walang NPA na nagpipilit. Kami mismo ang nago-organisa ng mga tao at kabataan na sa tamang
panahon ay mag-NPA.) Ka Danny, an official of an NPA platoon in Surigao del Sur, also said: “If the
NPA makes the mistake of allowing someone to join that [the community] does not recommend, they
will say so: ‘Why did they accept those that we didn’t recommend?’” (Pagnagkamali ang hukbo na
may napasampa na hindi nila nirekomenda, sasabihin nila: “Bakit tinanggap nila na hindi naman
namin rekomendado ang mga iyon?”)
The NPA does not require documentary evidence of applicants’ ages. NPA officials said they rely on
the candor of the applicant regarding his or her age and that if there is any doubt then other people in
the community are asked to verify the stated ages. Their explanation for this is that written proof of
ages is not normally readily available especially in the interior areas where they operate and
particularly among national minorities. While some youth apparently try to get around the policy others
seem to hold back until they reach the proper age and even try to dissuade their friends.
NPA officials also averred that it is intrinsic to the application process that they will know the
background of most prospective guerrillas. They say that the whole process of studying the background
and record of applicants takes time and that this “social investigation” entails several visits and many
interviews with various community informants and can run up to several months (especially if, for
whatever reason, NPA visits to the community become infrequent). NPA members who also come
from the same village as the applicants are also important informants.
Fifty-six-year-old Ka Asiong , the PI of a platoon in Leyte,confirmed the importance of this practice of
determining not only the age of applicants but also their health, mental condition and political
reliability: “It’s important to go through the process and it’s in the local mass organizations that you
find out.” (Mahalaga dumaan sa proseso at sa OMs na ginagawa.) He says that they also look into the
economic condition of the family.
Ka Maria from Capiz explained that potential NPA fighters must have a good track record of at least
six months of “political work and struggles”, must have already taken basic political educational
80
courses so that they understand what they are entering, must have a good attitude and character, and
must be in good health. She stressed that they should also be recommended by the CPP branch or other
recognized “advanced” leaders in the locality. “They must understand the revolution and have the
commitment for it. [The NPA’s reputation] in the village will be tainted if the requisites aren’t attended
to properly.” (Kailang naiintindihan ang rebolusyon at may paninindigan. Kasi masisiraan sa baryo
kung hindi maayos sa rekisitos.) Essentially the same process was related by NPA officials in Abra,
Mindoro Oriental, Leyte, Surigao del Sur and Compostela Valley.
There were facilitating and hindering factors in the stricter implementation of the age
requirement policy after 1999. The age policy seems to have been facilitated by the momentum of an
ideological-cum-educational campaign since 1992 and then also reinforced by perceived practical
benefits on the ground.
Community residents and NPA officials generally acknowledged that the minimum age requirement of
18 years old was not strictly observed in the past, usually referring to the 1980s and early 1990s. One
of the most common reasons cited for this was an increasingly militarist and insurrectionist approach at
the time under a perceived “strategic counter-offensive” (SCO). This apparently gave undue primacy to
the rapid build-up of purely armed strength as well as undermined established community-oriented
recruitment processes. NPA cadres say that this approach was officially declared erroneous and a
“rectification movement” was begun in 1992 involving a massive education campaign among the ranks
of the CPP-NPA-NDFP and its community mass base. It seems that this provided the venue for, among
others, the clarification and dissemination of the range of official policies including the minimum age
requirement for NPA fighters.
Ka Asiong said that “organizations in the barrios were affected, the process of recruitment was
affected, and discipline in general was affected” (apektado ang orgs sa baryo, apektado ang proseso sa
rekrutment, apektado ang disiplina sa kabuuan) by the “purely military” SCO approach.
A platoon leader in Capiz, 43-year-old Ka Mario, said that: “Clarification of the policy was also a
result of the Second Great Rectification Movement. It was formally taken up by the platoon. Now it is
also part of the Basic Party Politico-Military Course.” (Kinlaro ang polisiya bunga din ng IDKP.
Pormal na tinalakay ng platun. Bahagi ngayon ng BKPPM.).
In any case, NPA officials claimed that even at the height of the “disorientation” there was still a
natural limit to the number of underaged fighters in any given unit for practical and administrative
reasons.
Jorge “Ka Oris” Madlos, 58, NDFP spokesperson for Mindanao, explained: “In a people’s war
everyone has a right to defend themselves. But when it comes to the administration of an army, it is
actually difficult if individuals aren’t psychologically and emotionally, as well as politically prepared…
With our regular army, with regular units, managing it is hard if there are too many children who are
immature. That’s also what commanding officers have said – that it’s hard to manage too many
underaged fighters. Their immaturity crops up now and then. So politically, it’s legitimate for them to
fight. To defend their communities and themselves against invaders. But if we’re developing a regular
army, regular units, that’s going to be hard. So there are two things, first their political right. Second,
there has to be professionalism in the ranks.” (Sa usapin ng people’s war lahat-lahat may right na
mag-defend ng sarili. Pero sa usapin naman ng administration ng isang hukbo, mahirap din pala kung
hindi pa psychologically and emotionally , as well as politically prepared ang individual… [Sa] usapin
ng may regular army na tayo, may regular unit, mahirap i-manage pag maraming bata, mga immature.
At saka iyon na rin ang sabi ng mga CO, mahirap palang mag-manage ng maraming underage. Ang
immaturity nila, paminsan-minsan lumalabas. So politically, legitimate naman iyon na lalaban sila.
Ipagtatanggol nila ang kanilang mga community at mga sarili laban sa mga nanghihimasok. Pero
kung nagdedevelop tayo ng isang regular na army, regular ng unit, mahirap kung may mga ganoon. So
dalawang bagay iyon, una iyong political right nila. Pangalawa, kinakailangan din ng professionalism
sa hanay.)
The dissemination campaign particularly regarding the age policy seems to have been reinforced by
accumulated experience demonstrating the practical benefits for NPA units, which helped to overcome
initial reservations among some guerrillas. Ka Mario of Capiz explained that it was relatively easy to
convince those who expressed concern that the age requirement would unduly affect recruitment:
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“Eventually it was proven that the size of the NPA would not shrink from stricter implementation and
the numbers still increased, grew larger. The key to growth is to become better at organizing and to
explain why it is necessary to join [the NPA].” (Sa kalaunan ay napatunayan na hindi lumiit ang hukbo
sa mas mahigpit na pagpapatupad at dumami, lumaki pa rin. Ang susi sa pagpalaki ay dapat mahusay
ang pag-organisa at ang pagpaliwanag kung bakit kailangan sumampa.)
NPA officials in various areas cited concrete benefits from the implementation of the policy. Ka Onil
of Abra said that “The masses see that the NPA is strict in its implementation of policies, and that it
considers well the physical, emotional and political readiness [of applicants].” (Sa masa nakikita na
ang hukbo ay strikto pala talaga sa pamantayan, kaya mahusay ma-konsidera ang kahandaang pisikal,
emosyunal at pulitikal.) A 21-year-old squad leader in Capiz, Ka Rocky, said that “the commitment of
those recruited above 18 is stronger” (sa mga na-rekrut na lampas 18 mas matatag sa paninidigan).
An official of a platoon in Mindoro Oriental, 43-year-old Ka Mering, recalled how “the masses used to
complain that young guerrillas wouldn’t know how to help them with problems like land disputes”
(nag-reklamo din ang masa na paano daw makakatulong ang masyadong bata sa kanilang mga
problema tulad ng awayan sa lupa). Ka Asiong of Leyte claimed that the age policy actually works to
the benefit of local youth organizations that there are additional people in the community who are
“politically advanced” (abante sa pulitika). He says: “They can be youth leaders in their area and
attend to the mass base.” (Maari maging lider sa mga kabataan sa lugar, nahahanda ang baseng
masa.)
Even community residents volunteered advantages in the policy. Merlin, a 38-year-old peasant from
Capiz, said: “I agree with the NPA’s policy of 18. Before they set themselves right, many joined who
were still children and were like little flowers that could be crushed... So the NPA policy is correct: that
they should already be ready and of sound mind.” (Sang-ayon ako sa patakaran ng NPA na 18. Bago
magwasto marami ang sumama na bata pa. Para lang tayong bulaklak na pinisa ng kamay nila at
maliit lang... Kaya tama yong polisiya na NPA upang handa na at may tamang pag-iisip na.)
Field research indicated general compliance with the NPA’s policy on the minimum age
requirement. The team “surveyed” a sampling of currently active members of the NPA in each of the
research areas through a combination of at least two of the following three methods: 1) one-on-one
interviews with the guerrillas concerned; 2) on-the-spot recall by NPA officials present; and 3) on-site
viewing of relevant records. Because of this requirement for a level of cross-checking, neither all the
guerrillas physically encountered by the team nor all the guerrillas active in each NPA unit are
represented in the profile. The FGDs and other interviews with community residents familiar with the
NPA units active in their area also provided an additional angle, albeit indirect, of verification.3 The
findings are summarized in Table 5.
Table 5: Results of Survey of Sample NPA Units
Province and New People’s Army (NPA) Unit
Total
“surveyed”
active
guerrillas
ABRA: Agustin Begnalin Command
23
MINDORO ORIENTAL: Lucio de Guzman
11
Command
CAPIZ: Jose Percival Estocada, Jr. Command
22
LEYTE: Evelyn Dublin Command
23
SURIGAO DEL SUR: Unidentified NPA Unit
39
COMPOSTELA VALLEY: Pulang Bagani
4
Command
TOTAL
122
a/ 1988 (Ka Chona, 17), 2002 (Ka Macmac, 17)
b/ 1986 (Ka JR, 17), 2003 (Ka Duds, 16), 2003 (Ka Billy, 17)
c/ 1978 (Ka Maria, 16), 1984 (Ka Ben, 14), 2001 (Ka Sam, 16)
Among “surveyed” active
guerrillas,
joined NPA while under-18
Currently
under-18
1970spresent
2a
3b
2000present
1
2
2002present
1
2
3c
3d
4e
3f
1
1
0
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
18
7
3
0
0
0
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d/ 1984 (Ka Lim, 17), 1997 (Ka Chula, 15), 2001 (Ka Kayla, 16)
e/ 1983 (Ka Nida, 15), 1996 (Ka Cristy, 15), 1997 (Ka Don, 17), 1998 (Ka Nini, 17)
f/ 1978 (Ka Sarah, 15), 2001 (Ka Ned, 16), 2001 (Ka Russel, 17)
As far as the research team saw, there is general compliance with the CPP-NPA-NDFP’s minimum age
requirement policy. None among the fighters in the NPA units encountered were below 18 years old
even as a few currently active NPA guerrillas joined when they were between 14-17 years old (the last
being a 16- and a 17-year-old in 2003).
The qualifier of being currently under-aged is important to distinguish this from how 18 of the active
guerrillas were under-18 years old at the time of their joining. These NPA fighters however joined at
different times ranging from 1978 to 2003. Out of these 18 guerrillas, 11 had become regulars before
the October 1999 memo on the minimum age requirement while the remaining seven became NPA
regulars after 1999. Of these seven, there were still three who joined the NPA while under 18 after
2002 with the last being in 2003. We understood from the various NPA respondents in different areas
that dissemination of the stricter policy still took some time to be processed at the lowest command
levels and among the communities.
Cross-time comparisons regarding the number of under-18 guerrillas and whether they are increasing
or decreasing as a share of the total number of NPA fighters could not be made based on this survey of
guerrillas. The research team was only able to take note of the currently active guerrillas’ ages at the
time of their joining the NPA and there is no information on the age profile of rosters in previous
periods. Yet these rosters of those in active service change as guerrillas are transferred to other units,
opt to return to civilian life, or are killed in battle.
The NDFP’s spokesperson for Mindanao said that as soon as they were informed of the 1999 policy the
few 16- and 17-year old guerrillas in their ranks were demobilized and in the meantime were asked to
do revolutionary work in communities while waiting to reach the proper age: “For example, in a squad
there was then one underaged [guerrilla]. In a unit there were three. For example a company has fifty,
sixty [guerrillas] – there were two or three… Because we weren’t strict yet then.” (Halimbawa sa isang
squad noon may isang under-age. Sa isang yunit mayroong tatlo. Halimbawa sa isang kompanya may
singkuwenta, sisenta – may mga dalawa[o] tatlo… Iyong hindi pa tayo strikto.)
There are accounts of underaged applicants being turned away. There were firsthand and secondhand accounts of underaged youth who tried to join the NPA as full-fledged combatants but who were
not accepted because of their age. These emerged during the various FGDs and during individual
interviews and can be taken as indicating efforts at strict policy implementation.
Mia of the Maeng tribe in Abra, whose family tills less than a hectare of land, had just turned 22-yearsold and said that she remembered tagging along with the NPA whenever they would be present in their
barrio since she was 12 or 13. She joined their community youth organization at 15 and expressed her
desire to be an NPA guerrilla at 16. She recalled how, during high school, two of her best friends were
absent from class for a couple of weeks. They had apparently tried to join the NPA but were turned
back. When they returned, says Mia: “We said, ‘See! See! We already know that they wouldn’t allow
us at our age. Then why did you go, you just wasted [your time and effort].’ Then they said, ‘Yes, it
really wasn’t possible. We said that we were turning 18 and they still didn’t believe us.’” (Sabi namin,
“Iyan! Iyan! Alam na nga natin na hindi pa pwede ang ganiyang edad. Eh bakit pa kayo pumunta, di
nagsasayang lang kayo [ng oras at pagod].” Tapos sabi nga nila, “Oo nga, hindi pa talaga pwede.
Sabi namin mag-e-18 na kami hindi sila naniniwala.”)
Reden is a young 16-year-old boy from Abra, the second of four siblings, who stopped studying after
the fourth grade to help his family work their fields. When asked what he hoped for in life he said that
it was to join the NPA. “But they won’t accept me because I still lack years in my age. They said that
they only accept 18- year-olds... It’s hard to be a farmer and it’s also hard to be an NPA… [There
should be] more who will fight for the poor. To be a soldier, a soldier of the people.” (Pero di ako
kinukuha dahil kulang ang taon ko. Sinabi nila na 18 ang taon ang tinatanggap nila. … Mahirap
maging magsasaka at mahirap ding maging NPA… [Dapat] dumami ang lumalaban para sa
mahihirap. Maging sundalo, sundalo ng mamamayan.)
Another 16-year-old from Abra who dreams of joining the NPA is Cheryl, the eldest of seven children.
83
Cheryl quit school after first year high school to work as a nanny in the nearest town center, for P1,500
a month, but then went back to her village after the armed conflict incident near their village in 2005
because she was worried for her family. She said that she has wanted to join the NPA since she was in
the fifth grade and that she had already told Ka Onil, one of this study’s key informants, about this but
was turned down for “being underaged and lacking mental maturity and readiness” (kulang pa raw sa
edad, pag-iisip at paghahanda). At the moment she said that she “likes helping the comrades by giving
and bringing them food and chatting with them” (gustong tinutulungan ang mga kadua sa
pamamagitan ng pagbibigay at pagdadala ng mga pagkain nila at pakikipagkwentuhan). Cheryl’s
parents know of her plans to join the NPA but are against it because they fear for her safety.
Also from Abra, 40-something Nanay Glenda recalled how she was on her way to the market in the
nearest town center of Tuod in early April 2005. An NPA guerrilla, Ka Irene, had approached her to
ask if she could please accompany two girls aged 16 and 17 to town. Nanay Glenda chatted with the
two girls, cousins, during the four-hour walk to the market and they said that they had just come from
an anniversary celebration of the NPA in one of their camps and had wanted to join “full-time” but
were rebuffed. “They didn’t want to go back to their village yet because they left their families without
asking permission and were scared to return” (Ayaw muna bumalik sa barangay dahil tumakas lang sa
mga pamilya at takot bumalik.). One of the girls stayed with her grandfather for a month before she
was picked up by her father; the other went home on her own after three days.
Ka Macmac is a 20-year-old Maeng guerrilla squad leader in an NPA platoon in Abra who formally
joined the NPA in December 2002 a few months shy of 18. He recalled: “I said that I wanted to join
when I was just 15 and even if I still didn’t fully understand why, I knew that what they were
struggling for was correct. When I went to the comrades they laid out the policy and said that maybe I
wouldn’t be able to handle the life of an NPA at my young age so maybe it was better if I waited.
When they said this I lost interest in joining.” (Noong 15 ay naghapag ako na magsampa pero
mababaw pa ang pagkakaintindi kung bakit, alam lang na tama ang pinaglalaban. Pagharap sa mga
kasama ay inilatag nila ang pamantayan, baka sa murang edad ay di pa kaya ang buhay ng hukbo
kaya maghintay na lang. Noong inihapag iyan ay nawalan gana magsampa uli.) He left his village to
work in the town center for a while before returning some two years later. At the time the NPA had a
week-long “cultural caravan” in four sitios of their village and, without telling his parents, he helped in
the activity and again insisted on joining. Ka Macmac recalls: “The comrades brought me home after
the caravan. I spoke to my parents. Because they agreed [to let me join] the comrades were asked to
come back so that my parents could talk to them and explain. They told [the NPA] that they agreed
with my decision.” (Binalik ako ng mga kasama sa bahay pagkatapos ng caravan. Kinausap ko ang
magulang ko. Dahil pumayag ay pinapunta ng mga kasama sa bahay para ipaliwanag at kausapin ng
magulang ko. Sabi nila ay payag sila sa pagpasya ko.) The NPA took him in but did not yet consider
him a regular guerrilla: “When I joined I didn’t have a gun and did staff work and attended to supplies
for a long time.” (Pagsampa ko, wala pang hawak na baril at matagal na gawain ay istap at pag-ayos
ng suplay.)
During the time of writing of this report a news item also came out that further corroborated this field
experience.4 A young woman was killed on March 29, 2006 in a military attack on an alleged NPA
camp in Camarines Sur of the Bicol region (not among the areas of the study). In the news item the
mother recalled her daughter’s life and one of the details she shared was how her daughter became a
full-time “integree” at 16 but, at 17, was told to return home because she was underaged. She joined up
again when she turned at 18, presumably already as a regular full-time fighter.
Community residents confirmed that there are minors who voluntarily help the NPA in noncombatant and less hazardous activities for short periods at a time. These are usually children who
volunteer to run errands (bringing food, passing messages and information, charging cellular phones,
fetching items, etc.) and help with cooking during activities, children who perform in organized
cultural presentations, children who attend anniversary celebrations, children whom the NPA organizes
into community youth organizations, and children of NPA guerrillas. They can be in the presence of
the NPA anywhere from a few minutes to on-and-off for some weeks.
Community residents make a distinction between full-time regular NPA guerrillas and non-combatants.
During the FGD of the women from Leyte, they were asked whether or not they saw minors in the
NPA. They responded: “Children go with them when the parents are there. They don’t want to be left
behind… They have educational discussions, study, read, write. (Sumasama ang mga bata pag
84
nandiyan ang magulang. Ayaw magpaiwan… Nage-ED, nagaaral, nagbabasa, nagsusulat.– Yoli);
“There are [minors] in the NPA. But they’re not armed. They just go with them.” (Meron sa NPA. Pero
walang armas. Nagsasama lang. – Flor); “Where we are, there aren’t any. Just those of the right age.
Maybe there are times when there are meetings [of parents who are NPA] and they vacation with the
parents.” (Sa amin, wala man. Yung sakto lang sa edad. Siguro may mga panahon na nag-miting
pinapabakasyon sa mga magulang. – Lumen).
This also came up during the parents FGD in Abra: “Those who are 16-17 don’t carry guns, they just
go with them.” (Yung mga 16-17 hindi pinapahawak ng baril, sumasama lang.) There was also the
observation: “On the part of the NPA, there are children who follow or tail them. But because their
discipline is strict they bring them back… But the government soldiers… They are supposedly of right
age and mind. But is what they do according to right thinking?” (Sa panig ng mga NPA, may mga
sumusunod o bumubuntot na mga bata. Pero dahil mahigpit ang disiplina nila, ibinabalik nila ang mga
ito… Pero ang mga sundalo ng gubyerno… Mga nasa wastong edad at kaisipan naman. Pero nasa
wastong kaisipan ba ang mga ginagawa nila?)
Ka Nikole, 45, of Compostela Valley is a mother of four children who first became an NPA guerrilla
almost three decades ago during the Marcos dictatorship. Her husband was summarily executed. She
explained the current practice now in their area of children visiting parents who are guerrillas: “If the
unit is mobile, the children stay in houses. But they would go back immediately. Let us say after three
days they would go down right away.” (Pag-roving ang mga yunit, diha lang ibutang ang mga bata sa
balay. Mubalik dayon na. Ingon ta tulo ka adlaw. Diretso dayon na sa ubos.) Ka Nikole contrasted this
with the situation in previous decades when the NPA stayed in fixed camps and she, for example,
frequently brought her children along. She recalled: “My four children have experienced raids... But
the enemies were stopped. Comrades have died for these four children.” (Ang upat ka bata nako kapila
na pulos gi raid. Kay pugungan man. Upat ka bata puros na gikamatyan ug kauban pinugungay.)
Some young guerrillas shared experiences belying stereotypes of discrimination against youth
and children. One of the tragic experiences of child combatants in other armed groups in other
countries is of their lives being valued less than adults and, hence, their being subject to discrimination
and abuse. Some young NPA guerrillas shared experiences that suggest this is not the case among their
ranks.
Ka Macmac of Abra said: “I learned to read and write in the NPA. Starting with the letters ABCD, then
giving stress to syllables, then put together, using a chart, until I could form my name. I could read
after four months. We didn’t stop whether mobile or encamped. Two comrades taught us… we were
three students then.” (Sa hukbo na ako natuto magbasa at magsulat. Sinimulan sa letters ABCD, tapos
binigyan diin ang syllables, pinagsama-sama, gumamit ng tsart, hanggang mabuo ko ang pangalan ko.
Pagkatapos ng apat na buwan ay marunong na ako magbasa. Naka-mobile o kampo ay tuloy-tuloy.
May dalawang kasamang nakatutok… abot kaming tatlong estudyante noon.) He continued, “I learned
many things and also revolutionary principles. I’m going to continue in the NPA.” (Marami pang aral
at rebong prinsipyo. Magtutuloy-tuloy ako sa hukbo.)
Ka Ned, 20, has been with the NPA of Compostela Valley since she was 18. She was asked what it was
that she liked most (about being with the NPA). “With the comrades, we have our everyday work. In
my case, I’ve come to know each one of them. I’ve experienced their lives. I feel great fulfilment when
I teach literacy and numeracy to visiting comrades and they decide to stay behind. I have had
educational discussions with them since I was very young and they are still around. I find happiness in
these things.” (Kanang sa kauban man gud, siyempre sa kanang inadlaw-adlaw na trabaho, dayon ako,
nailhan na pud nako kung unsa pud sila. Nasinati nako ang ilang kinabuhi. Dayon, siyempre ang mga
kauban bitaw, mao gyud nang mapa-happy bitaw kanang mga kauban na akong matudluan ug literacy,
numeracy, hangtud karon bitaw nagpabilin. Kanang kauban na akong gitagaan ug ED kaniadto na
bata pa gud kaayo ko, hangtud karon gud kay naa gihapon. Lipay pud kaayo ko ba.)
Ka Noel, 19, of a platoon in Capiz remembered tagging along with the NPA whenever they come to
their village since he was 5 or 6. He only finished the second grade and had been working to help
support his four siblings since he was 12. In recent years he helped organize other youth in his
community until he joined the NPA full-time in 2004. He said that “It’s only here [in the NPA] that I
have felt such caring and loving, maybe because I’m the youngest. I’m very happy in the NPA.” (Dito
lang ako nakaramdam ng ganitong pagkalinga at pagmamahal, siguro dahil bunso ako. Masayang-
85
masaya ako sa hukbo.)
Outside of these accounts, NPA officials interviewed also said that the revolutionary movement has its
own internal education and health programs, inasmuch as it is in the interest of the NPA to have
fighters both mentally and physically healthy. In terms of education there are the literacy/numeracy
classes and a Special Course on Youth (Ispesyal na Kurso sa Kabataan) which discusses the Filipino
youth’s situation and their rights. It was also pointed out that each unit has its own medical officer,
giving guerrillas 24-hour access to medical help. Drinking is banned, with the only exception being
toasts during indigenous rituals. NPA units control the consumption of tobacco and cigarettes, mainly
for health reasons but also for frugality, with at least one unit the research encountered able to
voluntarily do away with cigarettes altogether.
Monitoring and sanctions
On the system of monitoring policy implementation and compliance, according to the CPP EC-CC:
“Regional Party Committees and NPA Regional Operational Commands have been tasked by
the CPP-CC to oversee and ensure compliance with the minimum age requirement. The
various Party committees and NPA commands at various levels down the line are responsible
for ensuring strict compliance.
“Recruitment to NPA units is undertaken and decided upon in a decentralized manner. Lower
units of the NPA act according to standing policies and guidelines for recruitment. They
periodically submit to higher commands and to the Party leadership general summary reports
regarding the status and problems of forces and recruits, among other matters.”
The CPP-NPA-NDFP operates at various levels under a system of centralized command and
decentralized operations: national, regional, provincial and guerrilla front level (the lowest
approximating the size of Congressional districts). Thus, the system of monitoring and compliance
needs to be understood against how NPA commands are dispersed across the archipelago, across
provinces, and, at the lowest levels, across districts. Communications and coordination difficulties due
to this dispersal are made even more difficult by the need to take security considerations into account.
The CPP EC-CC concedes that there is room for improvement in its reporting system in order to more
closely monitor compliance with the minimum age requirement:
“The reporting system can be improved to integrate more definitively checkups on compliance
with the minimum age requirement as well as other NPA policies and rules. Higher Party
organs and NPA commands can also specifically require submission of special reports on
violations of such policy.”
Based on the EC-CC interview and on the general line of reasoning ascertained from field
commanders, the CPP’s approach to underaged guerrillas in violation of the policy apparently aims to
be constructive with the sanction (“disciplinary action”) accompanied by remedies and alternative
programs that address the peculiar circumstances, if any, of the underaged applicant. For instance in the
case of children who have security problems, the usual remedy is to relocate them in the custody of
relatives or of various people’s organizations and other supporters who are located far away from the
threat. In the case of children who are not under such threat, the usual alternative is to maximize their
involvement in community-based “mass organizing” especially among fellow children and youth.
Field data gathering raised the following relevant points regarding internal policy monitoring and
sanctions:
There are records of the ages of full-time guerrillas starting at the lowest NPA command level
(platoon) to higher levels. Part of the administrative work of NPA units is the keeping of records of
their active roster including the age, sex, educational background (both formal and internal), class
origins and years in service of individual guerrillas. This was verified by the team in three areas. The
study, however, could not ascertain how, to what extent and how often these were collated as reports
and coursed upwards through the various organizational levels.
86
Ka Oris of NDFP-Mindanao for instance explained: “For those units that we find out have under-18year-olds, we really write them formally. Because they also report ages… Every assessment, they are
all made to report the age-range of recruits, every report contains a report on the age-level.” (At saka sa
mga yunit na nalalaman nating may mga below 18, talagang sinusulatan natin ng pormal. Dahil
nagrereport din sila ng age… Every assessment, pinare-report sila lahat ng age-range ng mga recruit,
every report kasama ang report sa age level.) He also said that some of these reports have explicitly
asked for exceptions to be made from the policy but that these were always turned down. Referring to
the early 1990s, he also said that “There were many exceptions in the past. But exceptions should not
become the rule. So what we did then was reduce the exceptions.” (Noon maraming exceptions. Pero
mahirap na maging rule na iyong exceptions. Ginawa na lang namin, binawas na namin iyong
exceptions.)
The Unit Command at the platoon level has the authority to decide on applicants but is required
to inform the Front Committee. Based on the responses from the NPA key informants in the various
provinces, it appears that the NPA platoons dispersed for mass organizing work are the most informed
about the background of applicants because of their sustained contact with local communities and so
are given the discretion when it comes to processing applicants. In practice this means that as much as
six months, or the usual period between assessments, can pass before new applicants are processed at
the Front level.
There was also one response during the parents FGD in Abra that indicated that community residents
are aware how NPA fighters who are not in a position to decide might still let minors come with them.
It was raised: “Right now, we have seen minors. But maybe those (NPA) they are with don’t know that
minors are not allowed. The weakness there is with the one who let [the minor] go with them. When
the NPA officials see this they are going to be sent back, but then they will already have been seen in
the company of the NPA.” (Sa ngayon, may mga sumasama na minor. Pero yung sinasamahan nila ay
baka hindi alam na bawal ang minor. Ang may kakulangan doon ay yung nagpasampa.Kapag nakita
ng mga opisyal ng NPA pinapabalik nila, pero nakita na sila ng mga kinilusan nila na may kasama
silang NPA.)
There is an account of a disciplinary action being meted out for a violation of the policy. CPP
organizational “disciplinary actions” include: warning, stern warning, suspension, demotion and
expulsion.
In Capiz the research team came across an instance of responsible CPP cadres and NPA commanders
being meted disciplinary action for violation of the age requirement. Sometime in 2003, two youths,
aged 16-17 years old and carrying backpacks with their personal belongings, looked for a local NPA
unit and asked to join it as full-time regulars; one of the youth was the son of a martyred NPA fighter.
The NPA officials said that they at first declined but, after “a few weeks” of the youth following the
unit around to show their determination, eventually took them on as “integrees” – which was duly
reflected in the report to their higher organ. In late 2004 this was one of the matters brought up and
discussed with them by a regional-level cadre visiting their area. The local unit was subsequently
notified in writing that they were being given a “stern warning” for that violation.
On children wishing to join the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF)
The research team coordinated with the relevant structures of the MILF leadership before proceeding
with field data-gathering. Unfortunately, some difficulties were encountered in the actual course of the
field data-gathering which affected the information that could be gleaned during the first community
visit and then, despite the team’s efforts, in the second community visit as well. In both cases there was
apparent discomfort on the part of the respondents to discuss the sensitive topic of child soldiers. The
research team’s main sources of information for this section are thus an interview with the MILF’s
Chief Information Officer Dr. Mohagher Iqbal, and the Head of the MILF Peace Panel as well as four
current and past child soldiers who were interviewed in the field.
Official Policy on Combatants
The MILF categorically declares that it does not recruit children as combatants as a matter of policy
and that the rightful place of children is in schools.
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At the same time, there are explicit exceptions to this policy. In the case of orphans – especially those
whose parents are killed in the course of war – the organization adopts them, takes care of their needs
and sends them to school so that they will not become “social deviants”. These policies were expressed
in a statement issued by the office of the late MILF Chairman Salamat Hashim in 1999 through
spokesman Muhammad Ameen which said verbatim: 5
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
“The children who undergo this [military] training are those whose fathers were killed in
battles or by government soldiers during operations;
“The children were not recruited, they volunteered to undertake training;
“The MILF, except in extreme cases, is not using these children for combat purposes. The
training is purely for training’s sake and to prepare them to be able to defend themselves
during military attack. Experiences tell us that government soldiers did not discriminate their
victims even including children, women, and the aged during massive operations;
“Instead of becoming future ‘deviants’ of society, such as street-children, beggars, pimps, or
even criminals, etc., the MILF chooses the ‘lesser desirable’ by allowing them to undertake
the military training while other options are being considered; and
“The most important of all is that MILF ideology, Islam, is silent on this; meaning, in
exceptional situation, children may be allowed to join the war efforts. As a matter of fact,
when they reach the age of discretion “jihad” is already made obligatory to them.”6
Apart from this official pronouncement in the MILF Central Committee’s official publication, the
research team was also able to interview Dr. Iqbal on the issue of child soldiers. When asked about
young volunteers who have expressed their willingness to join the cause of the MILF, Dr. Iqbal replied:
“The Bangsamoro struggle is a people’s struggle and the basis of it is the Islamic ideology.
While it is a people’s struggle on the basis of Islamic ideology, when a boy or a girl reaches
the age of reason, usually thirteen or fourteen, they are already considered mature. But in the
United Nations Charter they are considered a child or a boy or a girl before reaching the age of
eighteen. There is a difference here. So if you take into consideration the difference in age
[with UN defining children 18 years and below and the MILF considering 13 or 14 years old
as mature], children mature earlier given our ideology compared to the United Nations’
[definition].”
This statement highlights the difference in the way the MILF, whose ideological grounding is Islam,
defines the age of maturity compared to the United Nations which according to Dr. Iqbal is a western
secular institution. The statement also indicates that young volunteers who express their willingness to
join the MILF based on their conviction to fight for the cause are also taken in.
But Dr. Iqbal clarified that the role of the young and under-18 within the MILF is basically auxiliary in
character. The military training that the young undergo is not meant to prepare them for participation in
direct military actions as such but as preparatory training in defense of their communities. Their tasks
are essentially non-combat in nature and limited to such roles as being mail couriers or bringing food,
supplies and other provisions to MILF troops in times of fighting.
However, there are certain situations when these young fighters are left with no choice but to
participate in combat. Dr. Iqbal argued that:
“[Children] are not involved in combat activities. They are always in auxiliary assignments
such as mail couriers or to bring food during times of war. These are the tasks. Except, really,
in a very special situation when a certain village where they are located is attacked. A
soldier’s weapon does not discriminate. For example, their howitzers and their rockets.
Anyone may be hit, one fends for oneself. In this situation, there is nothing we could do. [The
children] will be the ones to defend themselves.”
There are also processes involved before a young orphan or volunteer is taken in. A background check
is undertaken for security considerations especially because, according to Dr. Iqbal, the military has
used children for intelligence and spying purposes as deep penetration agents. Community members
familiar with them and relatives or parents, if any are around, are likewise consulted.
Implementation process
88
The MILF leadership has expressed a nuanced position on the issue of minors in their ranks and does
not have any written or declared policy that outright bans them. There is to begin with a different
standard of ascertaining the age of maturity for children given the MILF’s Islamic beliefs and,
moreover, the MILF armed forces are in fact seen as able to play a vital custodial role to orphans. The
MILF also believes that the Bangsamoro communities including the children have the unambiguous
right to defend themselves against external attack. This nuanced position on the matter of under-18
combatants essentially underpins the existence of and the limited tolerance of young Muslim fighters
within the ranks of the MILF.
Data gathered from interviews with some under-18 MILF soldiers corroborated these official policy
pronouncements by the MILF leadership. The profiles of current and former under-18 MILF soldiers
are as follows:
Table 6: Profiles of MILF child soldiers
Name
Age
Circumstances for Joining
Jafar
14
Parents and siblings were killed while evacuating Pulangi
Amin
16
Father and siblings were killed in the 2000 shelling of Liguasan
Karim
17
Orphaned during the 2000 attack on Camp Abu Bakr
Mozaiden
20
Forced into combat during the 2000 attack on Camp Abu Bakr
Jafar
21
Trained as a child soldier but was not able to participate in combat
As to their reasons for joining: three of those interviewed joined because they were orphaned in the
2000 “all out war” during the administration of Joseph Estrada; one was a reluctant fighter forced to
defend his community when Camp Abu Bakr was attacked; and one joined as a volunteer to take
advantage of the training and discipline that the MILF provided. From the MILF’s and indeed from
these youth’s perspectives themselves, they have risen up in arms to defend their families,
communities, and their way of life.
Mozaiden, now 20, says he was aware of even young mujahideens since he was around seven. He
understood that these young people were undertaking an important task under Islam. Just like other
members of the community, he looked up to these young men and saw their courage in facing the
challenge of bearing arms at such a young age as a testament to their faith in Allah. He shares with the
community and the mujahideen fighters themselves the belief that their faith in Allah will either protect
them or make their deaths meaningful. Mozaiden was just 15 when Camp Abu Bakr was attacked. He
joined the MILF and took up arms because, as he explained, of a deep religious obligation to defend
the oppressed and above all his love for his community:
“It was really necessary then. If you based it on the Q’uran, anyone who oppresses you, not
just Christians but anyone, if you are oppressed, Allah commands you to fight.” (Kailangan
lang talaga noon…Kapag nakabatay sa Koran. Kahit sino, hindi niya sinabing Kristiyano
lang, kahit sinong tao, kapag inapi talaga kayo, inutos ni Allah iyon na lumaban ka.)
The AFP soldiers were about to overrun their community which, he said, left them with no choice but
to defend it. Though untrained he was able-bodied and so deployed in the frontlines to fight. He
recalled:
“We really love that place. In that place, we live under the guidance [of Islam]. It is part of our
lives.” (Kasi iyong lugar na iyan, mahal talaga namin ang lugar na iyan. Sa lugar na iyan,
diyan kami controllado. Parte ng buhay namin, lahat-lahat.)
Though reluctant, Mozaiden says that he is not only willing to take up arms again but, indeed, would be
happy if his children choose to do so.
“[The war] will not stop until the people achieve… that is the belief of the MILF. We are
really not content with the present system of governance.” (Hindi talaga iyan titigil hanggang
hindi nakukuha ang… yan ang paniniwala ng MI. Kasi hindi talaga kami kuntento sa sistema
ng gobyerno.)
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“[I will allow my child to be a mujahideen] because the mujahideen is the best kind of person
for us. He does not allow himself to be oppressed, and he fights for his religion. We are not
fighting because we do not like Christians or anyone else. Because in Islam, Allah
categorically declared in the Q’uran that a kafir (non-believer) should never be allowed to
govern over Muslims. This would lead to their destruction. We do not mind them leading
others, but we prefer to govern ourselves.” (Oo. Kasi ang mujahideen, yan ang
pinakamagandang klase ng tao sa amin. Hindi nagpapa-api, linalaban talaga ang religion.
Hindi talaga nakikipaglaban dahil ayaw namin sa mga kristiyano, o ayaw nami sa kahit
sinong tao. Dahil sa ang Islam, sinabi talaga ni Allah na kapag kafir ang humawak sa inyo,
bawal iyan sa inyo. Ako ang susundin ninyo, huwag iyang mga tao na kafir . kasi kapag
sumunod kayo sa mga taong kafir, masisira kayo diyan. So ok lang, kung kafir ang dumadala,
gawa na lang kami ng ibang sistema.)
The youth also shared their experiences while living inside the MILF camps which are essentially
vibrant Muslim communities which also double as training camps. Here they are not just trained
militarily but also taught the beliefs and practices of Islam. Some also described their lives as children
being “as normal” as those of other children inside these communities.
At the same time, it may be said that they have achieved a maturity within the MILF not possible
elsewhere. They have come to understand that the Bangsamoro struggle is not primarily about
retribution and justice versus the Christians but also about the political and religious aspiration of
attaining the Bangsamoro homeland. All the interviewees agreed that being a young mujahideen
primarily involves a quest for justice with strong religious and political conviction, as opposed to
something entered into for a salary or some other material benefit.
Amin, a 16-year-old MILF soldier in Maguindanao, only got as far as the second grade because of
financial difficulties. His parents were seasonal farmers and fisherfolk and he had two other siblings.
Amin looked up to the mujahideen even as a child and had grown up hearing of their heroism. He said
that his appreciation of the MILF deepened after his father and a sibling were killed during an artillery
bombardment and fighting in 2000, leaving him and his mother alone. Amin recalled becoming close to
the MILF who always seemed ready to help. Even though he wanted to join immediately after the
death of his father at the age of eleven, he only managed to join them permanently when he reached the
age of 13.
Amin soon found himself fighting in 2002 and 2003 when their village came under attack. He wants to
continue with his studies. At the same time, he also feels unable to do anything to remedy the hardships
they experience that are made worse by war . Amin said that when he visits his mother every now and
then, she would ask him to return to civilian life and pursue his education. Yet, he said, he would
explain to his mother that he is learning much about being a good Muslim inside the MILF. He added
that he has not totally left his mother and, when he has no assigned duty, he helps his mother with work
on the farm or by catching fish.
When asked why he felt compelled to take up arms at a young age, he said:
“The main reason why I am here is because of what happened to my family. It is my right to
defend myself. We were bombed in Liguasan without any defenses. It means that if I do not
defend myself, I would face the same fate as my father and siblings. That is what happened to
me. This is what I will say to anyone who asks me why I am here. However, the longer I stay
with the group the more I realize that revenge will not be enough. I also need to continue with
the struggle to defend my religion and fight for the Bangsamoro homeland.”
The study found no direct or indirect evidence of any sort of forced recruitment of child soldiers by
either the MILF or NPA through coercion, compulsion or abduction. The data gathered indicate that
children eagerly volunteer to join these armed groups, that some parents willingly give their consent,
and that communities often look on approvingly.
Endnotes
1
This “bottom-up” process of data-gathering – which began from actual experiences on the ground and only after
90
“testing” these against the formal declared organizational mechanisms and not the other way around – reflects the
research team’s caution in probing the delicate issue of child combatants. The team was initially uncertain on how far it
could go out of a concern that the research be misinterpreted as a fault-finding mission. It was only in the course of the
first field visit that the research team started to become more deliberate in exploring the issue. After some time in the
area, the team gauged that sufficient rapport had been established with the local NPA unit and broached the matter in
interviews with NPA officials. The favorable response gave the team the confidence to do the same during subsequent
field visits.
Executive Committee-Central Committee, Communist Party of the Philippines (1999), “Memorandum on the Minimum
Age Requirement for NPA Fighters”, October 15, 1999.
2
Overall, no major inconsistencies emerged – mostly attributable to normal variances in individual recollections from
memory – which tends to give veracity to the findings.
3
TJ Burgonio, “Girl leaves mother to be ‘child of our times’”, Philippine Daily Inquirer, Vol. 21, No. 155, Sunday, May
14, 2006.
4
5
Maradika, Official Publication of the Central Committee of the MILF (1999), Vol.XIX, No.6, June 1999, page 1 and 7.
These same points were reiterated by the MILF’s Chief Information Officer in a forum with a human rights NGO. He
declares:
6
1. “The general policy of the MILF is not to recruit children for combat; if they are with the MILF, their
roles are purely auxiliary in character;
2. “The MILF is fully cognizant that the rightful place of children is in schools;
3. “The MILF recognizes the right of everybody including children to self-defense especially when
communities or villages are under indiscriminate military actions by the enemy; and
4. “It is preferable that children, who are forsaken or those who have no reliable guardians, are taken cared
of by the MILF rather than allow them to be become misfits of society.”
(in http://www.luwaran.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=152 accessed May 10, 2006).
91
CHAPTER 5.
Women Amidst Conflict
The study looked into the needs of women emerging from situations of armed conflict along the
dimensions of physical safety (including sexual violence), health and hygiene, reproductive
responsibilities and sources of livelihood unique to women. It explored how armed conflict and the
presence of the various armed groups have affected the women themselves and with respect to the
multiple roles and responsibilities conventionally expected of them, such as child-bearing and rearing,
as well as assisting in their families’ livelihoods.
The women encountered in the course of data-gathering have experienced varying degrees of
dislocation, displacement and personal suffering. However, there were also many instances of women
dealing with, or otherwise reacting to difficult circumstances in ways belying traditional and
conservative views of women and motherhood.
The situations faced by women
The women who shared their experiences for the study are all poor peasant women, the majority of
whom are members of national minorities (specifically the Maeng, Mangyan, Tumandok and Manobo
tribes and Moro women). All bear multiple burdens at home with many also taking on extra
agricultural production tasks on a regular or seasonal basis. They also account for the largest part of
difficult, heavy and unending domestic work: cooking, attending to children, fetching water and
kindling, and maintaining homes. Nonetheless, many of the women in the communities have reported
declines in gender discrimination in recent decades.
Of the 123 women participants in the FGDs: 25 percent were in their late teens or 20’s, 33 percent in
their 30’s, 30 percent in their 40’s, and 13 percent in their 50’s and over. Nine out of ten of the women
had children: 15 percent of all the women had one or two children, 33 percent had 3-5 children, 31
percent had 6-8 children, 11 percent had 9-11 children, and two percent had 12 or more. Twelve
percent have not had any schooling, 37 percent have had at least some grade school education, 18
percent have had at least some high school education, and two percent have reached college level; the
remainder did not reply. A short survey for mothers was also conducted during the small medical
missions conducted in each of the areas with questions on pre-natal care, tetanus toxoid shots and on
birth attendants. Out of 475 mothers surveyed, only 56 were currently pregnant, although even those
not pregnant were asked about their most recent pregnancy.
By and large the women across all the areas mentioned the same basic problems: backward peasant
production with limited or no tools or animals, poor irrigation, landlessness or lack of control over the
products of their families’ toil, inadequate or non-existent health services, inadequate educational
facilities, and limited electricity, water and telecommunications services. Swidden farms and slash-andburn (kaingin) agriculture on sloped fields is most common with the main products being rice, corn,
vegetables, bananas and root crops; some areas also have cash crops like tobacco, coffee and abaca.
Farming is frequently supplemented by fishing, hunting and backyard poultry- or hog-raising. Other
income sources encountered included harvesting bee honey, coal-making, seasonal farm work, assorted
odd-jobs, and children working in urban centers.
Traditional and evolving cooperative work arrangements were encountered – such as the bayanihan or,
specifically involving women, the lusungan in Surigao del Sur – even as individual family-based plots
were common. There are some aspects of agricultural production that are exclusively relegated to men
such as those that require greater physical strength like plowing. Women nonetheless participate in
many aspects of farm production: weeding, planting, replanting, reaping, grain separation, pest control,
gathering, storage and others.
The communities are all integrated into cash-based commodity economies although production still
generally remains at the subsistence level with little cash surplus. This makes access to paid education
and health services precarious. The mothers in one area visited were especially proud of their efforts to
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build their own community school, in cooperation with an NGO, and they said that they felt much joy
in seeing their children learning to read, write and count.
Reproductive health services are generally poor and reflect the inadequate state of the formal health
system as a whole. For instance, the overwhelming majority of mothers encountered relied on
traditional birth attendants (or hilot) during pregancy and childbirth because they are far more
affordable and accessible than health professionals and formal health facilities. Yet while these hilot
are often rich in practical experience, they are nonetheless not always trained in taking medical
histories nor always able to understand signs of high-risk or emergency conditions during pregnancies
and childbirth, much less able to appropriately deal with these.
The communities have all been areas of armed conflict since the 1970s or 1980s and while the actual
fighting has ebbed and flowed through the decades it has reached a point where “war” is already an
indelible part of the villages’ collective accumulated experience. It is within this overall context that
specific incidents of fighting and military operations compound and disrupt their already many and
difficult responsibilities in caring for their children and and providing for their families. At the
minimum, normal routines in reproductive and productive work are disturbed: women either have to
exert extra effort to do the same thing or are unable to perform their usual tasks. Women’s health has
suffered, sometimes seriously. They have been subjected to persistent sexual harassment. They have
also been victims of physical, emotional and psychological violence that often appears deliberate.
These disturbances are worse the longer there are military operations in their areas and, especially, if
their families are dislocated by the outbreak of battles. Women’s burdens become much more difficult
in the conditions of evacuation centers: pseudo-home environments, dismal living conditions, scant
livelihood opportunities for husbands and other family members. They have also had to deal with the
destruction of homes and livelihoods: fields, crops, property, tools, work animals and livestock. Some
families have been fragmented in the course of displacement. The worst affected in this regard have
been the displaced Moro women in North Cotabato and Maguindanao.
At the same time, women and their communities have devised ways to maintain stability and meet
basic needs. They have continued working in the fields and at home, to heal or stem the worsening of
illnesses, to overcome mounting fears and anxieties, and to protect themselves, their children and
menfolk from violence. Successes may have been mixed but the mere fact of determined efforts to
mitigate the worst effects remains notable.
To summarize, armed conflicts specifically and adversely affect women in the following ways with the
effects being most severe for displaced women and families: disruption of domestic tasks and
livelihoods; hunger, disease, miscarriages and premature birthing; sexual violence; and mental and
emotional traumas. This study also highlights the phenomenon – parallel to what was observed with
children – of verbal, mental and physical threats against women either as part of a community tagged
as supporting the armed groups, or as individuals with close family members suspected of being part of
these armed groups.
Women have also time and again proven that they have considerable internal resources and capacities
for dealing with the adversities that they and their families face. Indeed there are also women for whom
the circumstances of armed conflict have prompted rethinking of conventional definitions of what
women, mothers and wives are. All told, women have faced their difficulties and like their children still
manage to hope, dream and aspire for better lives.
Livelihoods and domestic tasks
Armed conflict situations affect the farms, tools and livestock that are the foundations of rural families’
and communities’ economic survival as well as the sometimes delicate routines and timing of
agricultural production. These situations also affect the free movement of women, even in their homes,
as they go about their important day-to-day tasks. All in all, women’s efforts to surmount these
problems impinge heavily on the quality of their caregiving especially to any young children they may
have.
Disrupted livelihoods
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People’s livelihoods are commonly disrupted for at least as long as there is actual fighting and
oftentimes for as long as there are AFP military operations in their communities. Women and their
families have reported not going to their fields for various lengths of time: a few hours, a few days, two
weeks and over a month. Depending on the timing of the disturbance these have been long enough for
crops to be overrun by pests or animals (ex. rats, birds, insects, goats, cattle), for fields to be overgrown
with weeds, and for harvests to become overdue and for crops to rot or wither. In “normal” times,
women already wake up early to prepare family meals, get the children ready for school, clean the
home and do the laundry, and to help in the fields. They also have to prepare the rest of the day’s
meals. Disrupted production work and the pressure to make up for lost livelihoods invariably mean
added economic burdens on women as they strive to compensate.
Farmers have been prevented from going to their farms or have otherwise been scared of being outside
their homes after dark during military operations. And even when they have braved going to the fields
by forming larger groups instead of going solo, there is still a disruption to the extent that mobilizing
other farmers reduces time spent on any given farm. The end result of less time working the fields is
reduced farm output, or, in some cases, depending on the timing of the disruption, even entire harvests
going to waste.
For example in Abra, women complained during the FGD that two weeks of bombings threw off their
families’ farming routines and the unattended fields were infested by rats and picked at by rice birds.
Overdue harvesting also meant that palay grains hardened and burnt. In Capiz, Mely, 48, said that their
family is too scared to go to their farm when the military comes around because they might get shot at.
The last time this happened, she said, their coffee and banana plants became over-ripe and the harvest
spoiled: “[We went] hungry because we couldn’t go to the fields, couldn’t work.” (Gutom din dahil
hindi makapunta sa sakahan, hindi makatrabaho.) Her neighbor, Gloria, said that their normal 15 sacks
of produce fell to just 10 sacks because they were not able to clean their swidden farm properly when
the military came around in May 2005. Forty-one-year-old Delia said that when the soldiers are
around: “We have to be home before it gets dark because we might be mistaken for NPA.” (Bago
kumagat ang dilim ay dapat nasa bahay na at baka mapagkamalan silang NPA.) The women of
Compostela Valley said the same thing – that their husbands would make sure they were home before
dark – leaving them with just a few hours of work on the farm. Mangyan women in Mindoro Oriental
have said that sometimes the only thing they can do is, “Just bear with not eating rather than wander
around.” (Magtitiis na lang na di kumain kaysa gumala.)
Residents are particularly upset when they see their losses as being the result of deliberate actions.
Veda, 48, of Capiz said of soldiers: “They’re like carabaos when they pass through our fields. They
step on our crops.” (Kung dadaan sila sa aming taniman, dadaan sila na parang kalabaw. Tinatapakan
nila ang mga pananim.) In Abra, Tess, 59, complained that the last time soldiers had a two-week-long
operation in the mountains above them: “When they came down they destroyed the fences around our
farm. When the fence came down, that’s where the carabaos passed through.” Their crops were
trampled on and eaten which made their harvest fall from the usual 12 sacks to just five – a catastrophic
loss for those already living on the margins of subsistence. They reported this to the town mayor but
got no reaction.
Patrolling soldiers “arrested” Dulia, 25, and her husband of Compostela Valley on her birthday while
they were at their field. They were brought to an army detachment with their small boy and she said
that when they got back home after being released: “I felt so sad especially about our farm. We didn’t
have any animals left. Soldiers ate all our chickens – two roosters and five hens. (Napakalungkot lalo
na sa aming bukirin. Naubos kasi ang aming mga hayop, mga manok kinatay at kinain ng mga sundalo
– dalawang tandang at limang inahin.)
Manobo women during the FGD in Surigao del Sur grumbled that the military strafed their homes and
their abaca machine, destroyed their abaca plants, and looted their cooperative and other stores.
Taqiyya of North Cotabato lamented that after having been forced to suddenly leave amidst shooting,
explosions and air strikes, when they returned a few days later to salvage their belongings they found
that soldiers had stolen their rice and emptied their store. Thirty-eight-year-old Akmad, father of 6
children, recalled how a group of thirty of them tried to harvest coconuts to process into copra. They
were rebuffed by the military on their first attempt. They tried again and thought they were successful
after having been able to harvest copra, but: “We were the ones who worked but they were the ones
who profited. There’s no escaping the soldiers, even if we’re allowed to get our products from the
94
barrio they just confiscate it on our way out.” (Kami ang naghirap, subalit sila naman ang
nakikinabang. Wala kaming ligtas sa mga sundalo, payagan man kaming kumuha ng produkto sa loob
ng baryo, kumpiskado naman paglabas namin.)
Jenny, a 40-something pastor in Mindoro Oriental, recalled how checkpoints set up in 2004 during
military pursuit operations against the NPA affected the Mangyan community: “They couldn’t bring
their products out. There were rice blockades where, if the soldiers saw Mangyans with what they
thought was too much rice, they claimed these were support for the NPA who couldn’t go out because
a lot of soldiers were deployed… Their situation became abnormal.” (Di na sila makapaglabas ng
kanilang mga producto. Tapos nagkaroon pa ng rice blockades na kapag sumobra ang binili ng
katutubong Mangyan sasabihin binibigay ng suporta sa mga NPA kasi di makalabas yung NPA kasi
maraming nakadeploy na sundalo… Naging abnormal na yung kalagayan nila.)
Disturbed homes
Women, especially mothers, are primarily responsible for a wide range of domestic tasks to keep
homes functioning. They are then obliged to carry the greatest burden when the performance of these is
in any way disrupted. Much of the work at home can get suspended during military operations with or
without fighting in the vicinity.
In Mindoro Oriental, women said of their domestic work: “[It] is continuous unless there’s a military
operation [and then it] stops… If we hear about one, we get scared.” (Ang gawain namin sa bahay
tuloy-tuloy pero pag may operasyon ng militar, humihinto… Pag kami may nababalitaan, natatakot
kami.) They cannot fetch water from the well and make do with whatever inadequate firewood they can
gather from just around their homes. Marcelina, 37, of Capiz said, “[I] can’t concentrate on my work.
[I] fall behind, the children can’t go to school. My children might get salvaged (summarily executed). I
can’t think straight and I can’t even finish my work at home.” (Di ka maka-concentrate sa trabaho.
Atrasado sa trabaho, di nakakapasok sa eskwela ang mga bata. Baka ma-salvage ang anak ko. Kalat
ang pag-iisip ko at kahit sa gawaing bahay ay di ako makatapos.) Many other women said that they
can get so worried or anxious about the safety of their husbands and children that they cannot work
properly.
Women also tend to spend more time at home than men and so are more likely to be there when
soldiers come around. The women respondents clearly saw their homes as private domains over which
they would like control over who enters. Thus, many women lamented the unwanted invasion of their
privacy by government soldiers. In Abra a woman shared during the FGD that eight soldiers imposed
themselves: “I felt restless even in our own home. I know it’s my right to ask them to leave and I told
them that. A soldier answered, ‘Yes, that’s your right.’ But they still didn’t leave and stayed three
nights.” (Di mapakali sa sariling bahay namin. Karapatan ko naman na paalisin sila at sinabi ko iyon.
Sagot ng sundalo ay ‘Oo, karapatan mo iyan.’ Pero hindi naman sila umalis at tumagal ng tatlong
gabi.) She says that their home was small so they stayed with a neighbor, and that when they returned
their ration (rasyon) of smoked meat was gone: “Instead of eating their supply they finished our
family’s.” (Imbis na suplay ay ang sa pamilya ang inubos nila.) Another participant said that soldiers
forced her to sell her chicken to them: “They said that we give chickens to the NPA but refuse to sell to
them. So what else could we do even if we didn’t want [to sell].” (Sabi na binibigay lang daw namin sa
NPA pero sa kanila ay ayaw ibenta. Anong magagawa namin kahit ayaw namin.) Women also
complained of unwanted searches of their homes, whether they were home or not, especially in the heat
of military pursuit operations.
The greatest disturbance to normal routines happens to families who find themselves in evacuation
centers or otherwise away from their homes. The problems are many and cut across all aspects of home
life: the lack of food, clean water, clothes, beddings and other personal belongings; more time needed
to do basic tasks because of poor kitchen, washing, toilet and bathing facilities in evacuation centers;
and caregiving burdens made heavier by more frequent and unrelieved sicknesses of children.
Sauda, 38, of Maguindanao lamented the difficult life in evacuation centers and how she has had to
deal with all her children and even her mother getting sick, with looking for enough food for all of
them, and with finding clothes to replace all they had left behind – while having no money for any of
this. She also cried: “From the time that I was a child, to an adolescent, when I got married and now
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that I am a grandmother, my life has been of war and evacuations.” (Mula pagkamusmos, pagdalaga,
nagka-asawa na ako at nagka-apo, gera at bakwet pa rin ang buhay ko.)
The research team also heard accounts of mothers separated from husbands and sons fleeing to avoid
perceived threats against them. In Mindoro Oriental, the young teenager Sam regularly helped the NPA
whenever they were in or near their barrio. As a result, according to his 50-year-old mother, Lita, the
military started asking around for him so they made him move elsewhere. Lita said that she has not
seen him for over a year since he left their village and that she has mixed feelings about this: “I want
my son to come home, but I [also] don’t want him to because I’m still scared… I want to be with him
again…” (Gusto ko sanang pauwiin ang anak ko, ay ayaw ko, takot pa rin ako e… Gusto ko na siya
makasama…)
There are also mothers among the evacuees from Leyte who have become separated from their
children. Buding, 39, and her husband left hurriedly when they were warned that soldiers were coming
for them. In Manila she wept: “I feel sad that I haven’t seen my baby who was only seven months old
when I left.” (Nalulungkot ako sa hindi ko pa nakikitang anak kong nawalay sa akin. Seven months
lang noon.) Rose, 49, is in the same situation and said that she and her husband left so hastily that they
did not even get a chance to see their three children. She recounted how she spoke to them over the
cellphone and, crying, they likened the atmosphere in their home to that of a wake for the dead.
Women’s Health
The women approached by the research team were already in precarious social and economic
conditions to begin with. The adverse effects of armed conflict can in the worst cases compound their
difficulties many times over with immediate impacts on their health and emotional well-being. In the
research areas the effect on women’s health include reduced livelihoods and hence food intake;
exposure to acutely stressful events; and being in the unhealthy conditions of evacuation centers.
At the very least the mothers have to take care of their children under more difficult conditions, which
is more difficult the younger and more dependent these children are. It is extremely significant that the
mothers are also their children’s primary caregivers and play vital roles in their growth, survival and
development. Poor health on the mother’s part inevitably affects not only the birthing process, in the
case of pregnant women, but also in the kind of caregiving that they can give their children most
especially during the stages of early childhood. And women are the caregivers not just of their children
but of the entire family including husbands, the elderly and the sick. The burdens on women in times of
turmoil are multiple and compounded. The strain and pressure on women is visible and manifested in
various physical and psychosomatic illnesses.
Mothers’ malnutrition can be a significant contributing factor in complications in the periods before,
during and after pregnancies. The fetus in the womb directly suffers. However, so too do infants in
their critical first months of life if the mother’s lactation is affected or if the militarized situation in any
way affects her ability to breastfeed. The research team also came across some incidents where the
extent of distress due to armed conflict had adversely affected pregnant women.
The main stress factors on women were actual fighting and the presence of soldiers. The most jarring
situations were those that IDP families of Central Mindanao faced: of evacuating with children under
fire, seeing their homes damaged and destroyed, and seeing people wounded and killed. For instance
Suhayda, 42, of Maguindanao recalled how their group of 15 women scampered for safety under
coconut trees during the shelling of their village in 2000. With explosions everywhere and nowhere to
go, “We just fell to the ground and closed our eyes. I thought we were going to die because I didn’t
know where the bombs would fall. One exploded at my feet. I thought I was dead… I cried and cried in
fear. Up to now I still feel like crying when I think about it.” (Nahiga na lang kami sa lupa at pumikit,
inisip ko na mamatay na kami kasi di ko alam kung saan tatama ang bomba. Bumagsak ang bomba sa
paanan ko. Akala ko patay na ako…. Umiyak ako nang umiiyak sa takot. Hanggang sa ngayon pag
naaalala ko naiiyak pa rin ako sa takot.)
The process of evacuation and relocating to centers bears considerably on the health of women and
their families. In Maguindanao, 35-year-old Najiba said she prematurely gave birth to her first child, at
just eight months, due to the assorted stresses of displacement, only to subsequently lose her child to
diarrhea. She got pregnant again while displaced and while her second child was born full-term, the
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baby still died a day after being born. Sauda came down with a bad case of scabies on her hands and
body for two months: “It was revolting, and I could not even wash my hands or cook because of it.”
(Halos mandiri ako, ni hindi ako makapaghugas ng kamay at hindi makapagluto dahil dito.) Her
situation was made even worse by her distress at her children being so badly infected with scabies that
their toenails and fingernails fell off. All the women in the FGD recalled how difficult it was to take
care of their children who could not get enough to eat and were getting sick, with at least two of their
children reported dying.
But although such events are the situations of most acute stress, there is also the phenomenon in the
non-Central Mindanao areas of stress due to military operations even without fighting. The presence of
state forces has generally been associated with the questioning and harassment of residents including
their children, unwelcome entry into and searches of homes, and unwarranted threats and accusations.
There were also frequent accounts of destruction of crops and food stocks, underpaying for goods
bought, and even theft. On the other hand, none of the women reported any equivalent tension from the
presence in their communities of the other armed groups.
It was very rare for any respondent to be neutral about the presence of the military (militar) or soldiers
(sundalo) - both referring to state forces. A woman in the Mindoro Oriental FGD did say that soldiers
built fences and a basketball court as well as had a “beautification program” in their barrio where they
planted flowers. She said that the military just pass by uneventfuly and once even conducted a medical
mission. In Leyte, a woman said that the soldiers who went to their barrio were not like those
encountered by the others in the FGD; they did not beat anyone and bartered sardines for the farmers’
vegetables.
The women openly shared how these armed conflict situations affected their emotional and physical
state. Cita, 40, of Mindoro Oriental said that she had so much on her mind - from how to provide for
her seven children to how to protect them from the soldiers. She says that not only is she sometimes
sleepless because of always thinking and worrying about these, she also has chronic headaches, often
feels dizzy and faint, and frequently feels tightening pressure on her chest: “I’m so frightened that it
seems this is what will kill me.” (Dahil sa tindi ng takot talaga mukhang iyan ang papatay sa akin.)
Various other respondents during the FGD shared what they felt during military operations in their
area: “Everyone is nervous,” (Iyong mga tao laging may kaba.), “When they arrived [one time] I ran
out without any clothes,” (Noong nandoon sila sa amin, wala akong damit, tumakbo ako.), “I wanted to
defecate in fear,” (Halos matae ako sa takot.), “I go to the forest and when they pass, I hide”
(Nagpunta ako ng gubat. Pag nagdaan, nagtatago.). One woman narrates how her pregnant cousin
reacted to the military: “She was so frightened that she wrapped herself in a mat. And she was so
scared that she gave birth right there – in the mat. She was only seven months [into term].” (Binalot
niya sarili nya... sa banig dahil sa sobrang takot. At nanganak siya ng ganon sa takot. Sa banig. Pitong
buwan pa lang siya.)
Rose, 49, of Leyte says that whenever she gets nervous: “I go numb, feel weak and can’t breathe, and
my hands become stiff.” (Parang wala ng pakiramdam tapos nanghihina na talaga ako at di na ako
makahinga, tapos naninigas na ang mga kamay ko.) She says that even now, away from their village,
she is still haunted by and daily gets attacks from their traumatic experiences, sometimes even twice a
day. Sleep is not always a respite: “[I dream about what happened and] it’s like I see it all again.”
(Parang nakikita ko yung talagang pangyayari.) It is worst, she says, when she suddenly remembers
her children who they had to leave behind in a hurry: “I suddenly get weak and can’t breathe.” (Bigla
lang ang panghihina ko at di na ako makahinga.) Women in the Leyte FGD also said that they are
restless and nervous, get no relief, and are worn down when soldiers are around with one declaring:
“There’s no medicine for our nervousness,” (Sa sobrang nerbyos, wala ding gamot.)
Women have also said that they are not safe even in their homes. Mely, 48, of Capiz for instance said
that they are so afraid of being investigated that when the military comes around they cower quietly so
as not to be heard: “There mustn’t be a sound. The army might come up and investigate you.” (Kung
pwede ay wala kang marinig na lagatik man lang. Baka aakyat ang army at baka maimbistigahan ka.)
Lumen, a human rights activist in Leyte, recounted the loss of her second child at their home in
November 2003. She was already anxious from being surveilled by soldiers and, one night, a man
broke into their home and although he didn’t touch her: “I couldn’t scream. I noticed that since then,
my baby wasn’t moving. I was shocked. They say I should have shouted so [the tension] wouldn’t go
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to the baby.” (Hindi ako nakasigaw. Napansin ko, mula noon hindi na gumalaw ang bata sa tiyan ko.
Nashock ako. Sabi nila, dapat daw sumigaw ako para hindi sa bata napunta.)
The women patient survey conducted during the area medical missions gives a general idea of the very
low level and quality of reproductive health systems in the areas visited. It was found that:
•
•
•
Of the 56 currently pregnant women surveyed:
o 61 percent said they were receiving pre-natal care (although it could not be
determined how many pre-natal check-ups these involved or if these were with
health professionals or traditional birth attendants)
o 55 percent said that they were receiving tetanus toxoid shots (although it could
not be determined how many injections they had)
o Their deliveries are going to be attended by traditional birth attendants or hilot
(73 percent), formally trained midwives (9 percent), barangay health workers (4
percent), doctors (4 percent) and themselves alone (2 percent); the remaining did
not answer.
Of the 419 women not currently pregnant surveyed, when asked about their last
pregnancies:
o 49 percent said that they received pre-natal care
o 48 percent said that they received tetanus toxoid shots
o Their deliveries were attended by traditional birth attendants or hilot (73
percent), formally trained midwives (6 percent), themselves alone (5 percent),
doctors (4 percent), and barangay health workers (3 percent); the remaining did
not answer.
Out of the total pregnancies surveyed, past and present:
o Only fifty-one percent (51 percent) had pre-natal care
o Only forty-nine percent (49 percent) had tetanus toxoid shots
o They were attended by: traditional birth attendants or hilot (73 percent), formally
trained midwives (7 percent), self (5 percent), doctor (4 percent) and BHW (3
percent).
Violence Against Women
The study did not come across any firsthand accounts of incidents of grave sexual violence or assault
against women, such as rape, during the period under review. Yet many respondents reported instances
of sexual harassment by government soldiers. The military was also frequently reputed to seduce local
women. The women reached by the research were very often apprehensive about the military on this
point and formed this negative impression from direct personal or community experiences of sexually
abusive soldiers, sometimes going back decades.
That negative reputation is moreover sustained by persistent reports of malicious and sexually
suggestive behavior towards women and girl children. However much of the sexual harassment of
women by government soldiers is also in their body language which respondents found difficult to
capture or express in words. In any case, there were articulated accounts of sexually suggestive
comments or malicious jokes by soldiers either loudly among themselves or to women and girl
children. There was also an account of soldiers casually fondling women under the cover of giving
therapeutic massages. It is notable that nothing similar was said about MILF soldiers and, indeed, that
some women explicitly said that they were reassured by the presence of NPA regulars.
In Mindoro Oriental, a 20-something woman shared how a soldier approached her while she was with
her then eight-month-old baby and proposed to her: “[He said,]‘Ate, do you like the 69 style?’ I
answered, ‘I don’t know what that is.’ He replied, ‘Come here and I’ll teach you… It feels good.” He
also said that it feels good to bathe with your spouse… I took offense, he was insulting me.” (Sinabi sa
akin, “Ate gusto mo ng 69 style?”Sabi ko, “Di ko alam yun.” Sabi sa akin, “Halika, turuan kita…
Masarap iyon.” Sabi nya masarap daw pag naliligo kayo ng iyong asawa... Parang bastos nga,
binabastos nya ako e.) Nina, 19, of Surigao del Sur recalled how the soldiers that rounded them up in
their school insulted the girl students: “They told us, ‘The girls here are beautiful, I feel like kissing
them all on the lips.” (Ang gaganda naman ng mga babae dito, parang ang sarap i-lips to lips.) In
Abra, 14-year-old Tere was asked by a soldier if she had a boyfriend and if they had kissed yet. When
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she answered they had not yet kissed, he replied: “Your boyfriend is slow, on the other hand I’m an
expert.”
Brenda, 15, of Capiz was already angry at soldiers who had forced themselves into their home, even
refusing to let her sister get milk for her baby. She was bothered further by their suggestive manner and
it got to the point that when they said she was beautiful and asked if she had a boyfriend: “I was
offended by his indecency. I wanted to kill him then.” (Nagalit ako sa bastos ang army; noon gusto
kong patayin ang army.) Rhoda, 16, also said: “You don’t know where their hands are going to end
up… Others complain about the Army being [sex] maniacs.” (Kung saan-saan pa minsan napupunta
ang kamay. Ang iba nagrereklamo na sa ka-manyakan ng Army.) Women FGD respondents also told
stories of soldiers seducing women, even married ones: “Soldiers woo a lot of women.” (Maraming
nililigawan ang mga sundalo.)
There were also respondents in Abra who were angry at the military for several incidents where they
apparently felt affronts on their dignity as women. They narrated how an Army commanding officer
allegedly raped the sister of a barangay captain and seduced a few women, single and married alike.
Glenis says she has always been wary of Army soldiers because a niece of hers is currently the kept
woman of a married soldier: “A soldier named Brad visits her only to satisfy his lust. If my niece
refuses to sleep with him, he gets drunk and starts firing his gun.” (Pinupuntahan siya ng military na si
Brad at ginagawang parausan lang. Kung ayaw [ng pamangkin ko] ay nagpapakalasing si Brad at
nagpapaputok ng baril.) Helen, a mother of five, shares how an Army officer frequented her house for
six months in 1993, telling her that he was fond of her and convincing her to leave her husband for
him: “I was insulted because even if he knew I had children, he persisted in wooing me.” (Binastos ako
dahil kahit alam niyang may mga anak na ako ay patuloy pa rin siya sa panliligaw.) A woman from
Leyte shared her rape by a soldier in 1988 when she was 27 years old.
This reputation of soldiers, deserved or not, explains why many respondents reported taking extra care
to not put themselves and especially their girl children in what they see as risky situations around the
military. In Abra, for instance, women shared during their FGD that they feared for their daughters’
being left at home in the presence of soldiers. As long as soldiers stayed in their home, they said, they
would hardly go to the fields or elsewhere so that they would be able to watch over their daughters.
Central Mindanao respondents told of how they would send their elder girl children away if they knew
there were AFP soldiers in their communities. Some members of one FGD group even shared how they
made the effort to get a few prostitutes from the nearest city center to divert soldiers’ attention from
their village’s girls and women.
Threats to Women
Many women in the research areas visited perceived armed conflict as including deliberate actions
against them – either from being spouses, mothers or other relatives of suspected rebel supporters or
combatants, or simply as being part of a community accused of supporting the rebels. There were also
accounts of how women who do not exhibit traditionally expected submissiveness towards government
soldiers are berated for this. Teresita, an evacuee from Leyte, reported that “The military has lost their
love for their fellow men and women. They pick on civilians.” (Nawalan na ng pagmamahal ang
militar sa kapwa tao. Pinagiinitan ang sibilyan.)
To ourselves
The women reached by the research team shared many direct experiences related to armed conflict and
the presence of soldiers.
Hasana, 38, of Maguindanao remembered the first time she encountered soldiers when they first came
to their village almost 30 years ago: “They were vicious and didn’t spare anyone: children, elderly,
women.” (Malupit sila, wala silang pinapatawad, bata, matanda, babae.) She recalls cooking donuts
when the most recent wave of fighting engulfed them and then suddenly dropping everything to run
and get her children when the first bombs exploded. She says her views of soldiers were only
reaffirmed: “I saw soldiers burn houses, fire incessantly and destroy facilities and crops like coconuts.
Even the livestock were not spared.” (Kitang kita ko ang panununog ng bahay ng mga sundalo, walang
tigil na putukan, sira ang mga pasilidad pati na ang mga pananim tulad ng niyog. Pati ang mga
alagang hayop ay di nailigtas.)
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Mona, 27, recalled how seven soldiers looking for her husband, allegedly an MILF commander, forced
their way into their home in 2003. She remembers the guns being pointed at her and her children: “I
was so scared then and crying while holding my four small children.” (Takot na takot ako noon at
umiiyak, yakap ang apat kong maliit na anak.) During the women’s FGD in North Cotabato,
participants claimed: “It’s true that they don’t discriminate in who they kill – they shoot at anyone,
even the elderly [and] children.” (Totoo na walang pinipili ang pagpatay – kahit sino ay paputukan
nila, kahit matanda, bata.)
In Capiz, Marcelina, 37, narrated an incident in 2005 when a soldier, unhappy with how she was
answering his questions, took her bolo and waved it around over her head (Hiniram ng sundalo ang
itak at iwinasiwas sa tapat ng ulo ko). She says soldiers also threatened her, her husband, and their
child and told them that even if they were minced to the size of ants, that still wouldn’t pay for the lives
that the NPA owed the Army. (Sinabihan na tatlo kami ng asawa at anak ko na [kahit] tadtarin ng
pino tulad ng langgam, ay di daw makabayad sa buhay na utang ng NPA sa Army.) According to her:
“The Army says the NPA are bad, but we never experienced being hurt by the NPA.” (Anang army
masama ang NPA, pero sa NPA hindi kami nakaranas na nasaktan.) Mel of Compostela Valley
recalled a soldier threatening to handcuff her and, because she said that she was breastfeeding, even her
infant (posasan kahit nagpapadede at pati ang anak).
Cita of Mindoro Oriental said that her husband is with the NPA and that a fellow Mangyan revealed
this to the military in return for a cash reward. According to her, soldiers wanted to hold her children
and herself to force her husband to come down from the mountains, so they change residences often.
(Kaya ako kasama ang aking mga anak ay nag lipat sa ibang lugar para makaiwas. Dahil gusto ng
militar i-hold ang pamilya para bumaba ‘yung isa.) She is saddened that the constant moving has
forced her children to stop attending school and that they now sometimes just stare vacantly into space.
During the FGD, another woman said that the military was likewise after her husband (hindi na talaga
kumukurap ang mata ng military dun sa asawa ko). In 2002 or 2003, she said that their house
mysteriously burned down which she suspects was the military’s doing to scare them.
Families’ safety
The wives and mothers have also been candid about their fears for the life, security and welfare of their
husbands and their children. The women were markedly anxious especially given the express threats
against their children, husbands and communities; these are apparently aimed at isolating them from
the rebel groups. If there are soldiers wont to keep asking about the whereabouts of their husbands, this
is enough to cause them great tension given their experience of harm befalling those the military is
after.
Susan of Mindoro Oriental recounted when they were awakened at 2 a.m. of October 2001 by men who
were looking for her husband, a community leader. She denied that he was home but the soldiers
barged in and moments later she heard four shots. When she gathered her senses to see to her husband,
“He was lying lifeless on the ground.” (Nakadapa na [ang asawa ko] at wala nang buhay.) Daday, 52,
of Mindoro Oriental related during their women FGD how the military called a village meeting in 2003
or 2004 with the main agenda being to warn all the Mangyan villagers about letting the NPA into their
homes: “They said that if they came across NPA in [our] homes, even if there was just one armed
fighter, they will really [open fire]. They said they would really finish us off and they don’t care even if
there were young children inside... This is really what they told us.” (Sabi nila pag naabutan daw po
ang NPA sa bahay, kahit po isa na may baril, talagang aanuhin po nila. Uubusin talaga daw kami
kahit daw may batang anak pa sa loob hindi daw nila santuhin... Iyan na talaga ang sinabi po sa
amin.)
Similarly in Capiz, 43-year-old Edong, a father with seven young children, narrated how soldiers
warned him and his wife that if they came across NPA in their home they would have no second
thoughts about killing children (di sila magdadalawang-isip na idamay sa putukan). Women in the
Abra FGD sensed the veiled threat when soldiers accuse them of always informing the NPA about their
movements in the area: “You pass them information quickly which is why they lie in wait for us.”
(Ipinasa-bilis niyo kasi sa mga NPA, kaya nandun sila naghihintay sa amin.)
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Katryn, also of Capiz, recalled that when soldiers accosted, pointed their guns and arrested her –
accusing her of being NPA – she said: “I was not afraid for myself but I was worried about the children
we were still taking care of.” (Hindi ako natakot para sa sarili ko pero nag-alala ako para sa mga bata
na alaga namin.) During the FGD in Compostela Valley the women agreed: “Ang unang inisip namin
ay ang aming pamilya, mga anak at asawa.” Lita who fears for her son Sam said: “We’re not scared if
the NPA is here. But if we hear news that soldiers are here, then we really get frightened.” (Pag andyan
ang NPA, di naman kami natatakot. Pag may balita ang sundalo na andyan, takot na talaga kami.)
Gena from Leyte relayed with concern the changes in her husband’s demeanor after being accused of
being a rebel, physically abused, and then warned to stay put by soldiers: “He was so frightened that he
didn’t go out anymore. He just asked his brothers to bring the animals to pasture for him. He was
traumatized, and it’s as if he always sees the soldiers. At night, he’d breathe deeply and sigh. He’d
stand up then lie down again. When the soldiers arrive in the barrio they always check if my husband is
around.” (Hindi na lumabas dahil sa sobrang takot. Inutusan na lang ang kapatid na magpastol. May
trauma sya, parang laging nakikita ang sundalo.Pag gabi, lagi syang bumubuntong-hininga ng
malalim. Babangon, hihiga na naman. Pagdating ng militar sa baryo, laging tinitingnan kung andoon
ang asawa ko.)
Tetet of Leyte said that her cousin, who was a paramilitary CAFGU, warned them around mid-2005
that their home would be raided because her husband was apparently on a list of those the military was
suspicious of. Her husband and all the other men on the alleged list immediately left, but, she says: “I
thought that we’d be safe because my husband was gone… [But] we were all going to be killed.” (Kala
ko ligtas na ako dahil wala na ang asawa ko. [Pero] patayin kami lahat.) She followed her husband to
Manila, leaving their home, land and copra behind and causing her child to stop attending school. The
participants in the FGD recounted their reasons for fearing the military: during the rainy season of
2005, the civilan father and brother of a full-time NPA fighter were killed when their home was
strafed; around August 2005, the civilian sibling of an NPA fighter was mysteriously killed; and in
September 2005, a neighbor who was often seen in the mountains was accused of supporting the NPA
and was killed when his home too was strafed.
Surmounting adversities
By culture, women feel a strong responsibility to care and provide not only for their children but also
for the rest of the family in their households. The difficult events experienced by communities affected
by unacceptable wartime behavior gravely compounds long-standing economic pressures. The women
reached by the research team all expressed worry about how they are going to fulfill responsibilities in
difficult armed conflict situations particularly in terms of ensuring that their families’ economic, health,
security and other needs are met. Many were concerned about the kind of parenting they have been
able to give and expressed anxiety about not being able to provide protective, caring and loving family
environments for their children.
But women have also dealt with their problems and shown their resilience in various ways. Some have
tried to cope with their problems in a purely individual manner such as through finding solace in
prayers and their faith. There have also been moments of levity. Women in the North Cotabato FGD,
for instance, recalled with humor how one of them was caught by the bombings while she was bathing.
Forgetting to don her malong amidst the explosions, she scampered and ran for cover about the
community naked.
But the field data gathered also established the capacities and efforts of women in dealing with the
adverse effects of armed conflict as well as in trying to increase their control over the situation. Women
have tried their best to continue performing their daily household tasks and family responsibilities.
Women have also taken on much of the burden of maintaining some normalcy despite disruptions, and
of keeping the family together. In the difficult conditions of war, militarization and displacement, their
already multiple burdens have been compounded and have become heavier.
Mothers in Abra and Capiz recounted having to bring their children to and fetch them from far-away
schools whenever they hear reports of military presence in the area because they fear that their children
may be accosted and harassed. And then they face a dilemma – soldiers have been known to enter and
ransack unattended houses.
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The women have had to bear even heavier economic burdens. Hasna, 38, of Maguindanao said that her
family’s life was so difficult in the evacuation center that many times they ate only twice a day,
sometimes only managing one meal. She was forced to work as a laundrywoman, leaving home
responsibilities behind, just to try and get by and to feed her six children. Out of 15 women in the FGD,
three had left to find work as househelp and four as laundrywomen – for as little as P500-P800 a
month. They say that even their young daughters had left to find work in nearby town centers. Yet even
when they were able to return, they found their farmland overgrown with weeds and their coconut trees
and homes burned down: “It’s like we were starting over again.” (Para kaming nagsisimula uli.)
Asima, a mother in the North Cotabato FGD, recounted her ordeal in going back to her store to try and
retrieve goods for her family. Not only did she find that looters had emptied her store, fighting also
suddenly erupted while she was in their village and she scrambled frantically to safety and made her
way back to the evacuation center. On the way back she says she was able to catch a live chicken to
bring to her family. When she got back to the center she realized that she was so scared that she had
crushed the chicken to death with her bare hands and that her fingers had bored into it.
Leyte women evacuees and Capiz residents have had to venture into the same sorts of uncertain,
irregular and lowly-paid work: washing clothes, working as househelp, repacking detergent materials,
manicuring, preparing smoked fish, vending street foods like fishballs, ice scramble and cassava cakes,
and others. But at least one displaced woman from Leyte had given up hope: “Didn’t we leave so that
we wouldn’t get killed? Here we’ll die from poverty. So we’ve decided to go back home. So that if we
die, at least it’ll be there [at home].” (Di ba umalis kami para di mapatay? Dito mamatay kami sa
hirap. Kaya ang desisyon namin ay umuwi na. Para kahit mamatay kami, doon na.) Another was angry
and vengeful: “I won’t say how hard it is because we all know that. What I want is to get even with
those responsible. Our livelihoods were destroyed.” (Hindi ko na sabihin ang hirap alam na natin yon.
Gusto ko magganti sa taong may gawa. Nasira ang kabuhayan namin.)
Women’s empowerment
The research encountered a range of self-definitions and self-perceptions of womanhood and feminity
during the women FGDs. On one hand were the stereotypical: quiet, weak, shy, emotional, humble,
easily frightened, but helpful to others, industrious, helping in agricultural production work, supportive
of husbands, caring for the children, preoccupied with domestic work, and happy when around other
women. In the specific context of armed conflict there were women who also said they were helpless,
scared for themselves and their families, and ignorant of what was happening (walang kamalay-malay).
These responses were most prevalent in the North Cotabato and Maguindanao women FGDs even as
they were also evident in Mindoro Oriental and Leyte.
But there were women in the FGDs who responded in defiance of stereotypes. They were brave,
assertive, able to fight back, and saw themselves as deserving of respect as well as having rights that
they should fight for. They had principles they upheld. They were able to face the trials their families
had had to endure, stood up for their children and families, and were shoulder-to-shoulder (kabalikat)
with men. They knew what was happening around them and what needed to be done. They had an
important role in advancing the people’s interests, and were able to fight in wars (Abra, Capiz, Surigao
del Sur and Compostela Valley). Even when sterotypes of womanhood were brought up these were
systematically couched in a framework of gender oppression and discrimination. Also very important
to note is that these assertions were not correlated with high education or urban-based exposure to
progressive views, but were articulated by women from grassroots communities.
In the island of Luzon, women in the Abra FGD asserted that their exploitation by mining projects
would have been much worse without the community’s organized groups including the women’s
organizations. They had educated themselves about their rights and mobilized against perceived
incursions into their ancestral lands. In the Visayas region, women in the Capiz FGD said that even
during their rest times they think about how to improve their lives so that their children will not have to
go through the hardships of their parents. They declared that women have much to contribute: joining
organizations, going to rallies, and even taking up arms. Some declared that “Not to belittle men, but
whatever they can do women can do as well.” (Hindi naman sa pagmamaliit sa mga lalaki pero kung
ano ang makakaya ng mga lalaki ay makakaya rin ng mga babae.) In the island of Mindanao, the
women in the Surigao del Sur FGD asserted that men must not hurt women, that they can do whatever
their husbands can, that they are part of the community’s economic life, that they are capable of
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developing production and the country, that they can deal with the military as much as the men can,
and that they have an important role working for the people’s interests.
Women’s awareness of their social and political milieu and their frustration with the situation has at
times resulted in quite strong attitudes about what needs to be done. A mother in Capiz, 48-year-old
Salvacion, went so far as to declare: “I am in favor of war. For me it’s sad when someone is killed but,
on the other hand, I am in favor of war. Because I have felt such great poverty, such crushing poverty. I
don’t want my children to go through what I’ve gone through.” (Pabor ako sa gera. Para sa akin,
nalungkot ako pag may namamatay, pero sa kabilang banda, pabor ako na mayroong gera. Kasi
naranasan ko na ang sobrang kahirapan, gumagapang sa kahirapan. Hindi ko gusto na maranasan ng
mga anak ko yung naranasan ko.)
Women’s efforts and organized action
Situations of armed conflict place women and mothers in especially difficult circumstances and the
research team observed how they do not bear these increased burdens alone. The usual initial reaction
is to tap immediate family and other kinship structures. Mothers have also extended their role as
providers of daily family needs and found work to meet these needs.
The capacity to take action and to consciously exert efforts to overcome the stereotype that women are
weak and dependent has found the most sustained expression, it seems, in communities with women’s
organizations. Many women say that they have also relied on their local organizations to cope with
difficult situations and reduce their vulnerability. In the first instance, these function as channels for
contesting traditional hierarchies and discrimination against women. The women’s group in Abra even
said that men in the community, still frightened over how the military cracked down on their
organizations in the past decades, initially discouraged them from their effort in 1997 to rebuild their
women’s organization – yet they persevered and succeeded. Overall, these organizations give women
the opportunity for new and higher levels of participation in community life in dealing with longstanding problems of poverty as well as with armed conflict-related problems. But outside help for
material and important moral support was still much sought after and extremely appreciated.
It is always difficult to make generalizations about evolving cultures, traditions and structures from
only a few cases. Nonetheless, there is a rich lode of anecdotal accounts on how local organizing
efforts have precipitated changes in traditional and conservative views of women and of motherhood.
These changes have been toward increasing women’s capacity to deal with adverse circumstances.
One of the forms these have taken is the use of community organizations to help deal with “regular”
day-to-day problems such as providing for their children or seeking medical care for sick family
members. They have also been used in dealing with the military and even the rebel groups themselves.
Women have been part of – and at times have actively initiated – formal discussions with the
government, NGOs, and even the parties in the armed conflict. The effect of such organizations in
stemming individual feelings of vulnerability and helplessness as well as helping concretely deal with
emerging adversities cannot be overstated.
In Leyte, mothers have mobilized family members to give a measure of protection to their husbands
doing otherwise solitary work in the fields. Claiming that soldiers are less prone to abuse or beat up
their menfolk when they are not alone, children have since January 2005 been asked to accompany
their fathers as needed when they work their farms. The women also related how a family in their
village – a husband, wife and two children – was recently brought to a military camp early one
morning. Many of the mothers were at the time washing clothes but when they heard about this they
immediately went to the camp to secure the safety of their neighbors, even still bringing along their
pails of wet laundry. The mother and children were released but the father remains detained. In Capiz,
mothers organized some 25 women and children – because they said soldiers were more easily angered
if confronted by men – when they heard that soldiers operating in their area had captured a young man
they accused of being an NPA guerrilla. They were able to get the youth released but not after he had
been tied up and abused. They argue: “When there’s a situation with the military it’s better if there are
a lot [of people] so that if someone is killed, there are witnesses. Then those who witnessed can pass
this on to the next generation of youth.” (Kung sa panahon ng kagipitan at may militar, mas mabuti na
yung marami para kung may pinatay, may makasaksi. At yung mga saksi ay maipaunawa nila sa
susunod pang henerasyon ng kabataan.)
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Organized women in Surigao del Sur were also actively involved in an effort, after their forced
evacuation and heightened militarization in their area in 2005, to draft and push for a tripartite
agreement between the community, the local government and the AFP. This aimed to stop harmful
military operations and ensure the safety of civilians. The military unfortunately opted not to enter into
the agreement.
Organized groups also appear to have given women and communities the venue for more formal
negotiations with the NPA. Delia, 59, of Abra said that their group has told the NPA to stay far away
from their barrio when there are military operations in the area, and whenever they are entering the
village to leave their weapons outside. (Kapag pumapasok kayo sa barrio, tingnan niyo – na kapag
may operasyon, huwag kayong papasok sa barrio. Ganun din, kapag pumapasok kayo sa barrio,
huwag ninyong hahawakan ang armas ninyo.) She added: “It’s good that we understand each other
because we can tell them when they’re doing something that we don’t approve of, and in the same way,
they let us know if we’re doing something that they don’t agree with.” (Mabuti at nagkakaintindihan
kami dahil maaari namin silang punahin sa mga bagay na hindi namin gusto, at sila rin, pinupuna rin
kami kapag may nakikita silang hindi nila gusto.) During the FGD, another woman said that they can
tell the NPA to move aside, and not snipe at soldiers, to protect the lives of civilians.” (Nagpapasa-bilis
sa NPA para ipakiusap sa kanila na tumabi muna, huwag magi-isnayp ng mga sundalo, at nag-aalala
din sa buhay lalo na ng mga sibilyan.)
A critical aspect of empowering communities and reducing their passive victimhood is for them to be
aware of and understand what is going on around them. The Abra women FGD group also narrated
how their community asked the NPA to explain to them why the bombings in 2005 happened so near
them. They said that their elders even scolded the NPA for allowing bombings to occur near populated
areas, and took some time before they accepted the guerrillas’ explanation that they were put in a
position where they could not but fight back.
Dulia, 25, of Compostela Valley recounted how they told the NPA to as much as possible avoid
encounters in their village: “It’s good that they listened to me.” (Sinabi ko talaga sa mga NPA na kung
maari ay huwag silang mag enkwentro dito. Mabuti naman at pinakinggan nila ako.) She volunteered
the information that when soldiers went into their village at the same time that about 40 of the NPA
were nearby, although the NPA were in a favorable high position for an ambush and had heavy
weapons with them, they did not open fire because “the people were not ready for this”. (Naka posting
sila sa may bandang itaas na paborable sa kanila, pero di nila binanatan ang sundalo. [Mahigit 40
sila] meron nga sa kanilang may dalang malalakas na armas, kayang kaya nila talaga ang mga
sundalo, pero di nila tinira dahil nga hindi handa ang mga tao dito.) Lumen of Leyte also narrated
how there was one time when the military was patrolling their area and, worried that fighting might
erupt around civilians, they asked NPA guerrillas in their barrio to leave, which they did.
The community organizations have also facilitated the search for outside help in times of distress,
enabling more ordered transactions or negotiations with local government units, urban-based health and
human rights NGOs, and radio and print media. Residents in Abra and Surigao del Sur said that beyond
material support they particularly appreciated how their organizations gave them access to “moral
support”. They gave much importance to feeling that other people care about their situation and that
outside organizations can help them bring issues to local authorities and other concerned government
agencies. A participant in the Abra women FGD said: “We would have loved to explain how afraid we
were to other people, and they would have comforted us. The place would have been warmer and less
forebidding.” In Surigao del Sur, residents wanted to have advocates for their call to stop the bombings
and military harassments and to demand compensation for lost or damaged homes, belongings, farms
and animals.
Women’s hopes, dreams and aspirations
Situations of poverty aggravated by the physical, psychological and emotional costs on victims of
incidents related to armed conflict can have serious repercussions. But the study came across so many
women who not only resist lapsing into apathy, weariness and depression but who are still able to
articulate alternative ways forward. Women seek to address their families’ immediate concrete needs,
especially those of their children, but many also articulate visions far broader than themselves and their
families. Perhaps most importantly, many do take concrete steps forward.
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The women were very clear in expressing their hopes, dreams and aspirations. Despite the qualitative
data-gathering being in areas of armed conflict, the most pressing problems articulated generally
related to immediate basic needs rather than to matters related to armed conflict (which reflected the
difference in the types of internal armed conflicts in the Philippines as already discussed in an earlier
chapter). Although armed conflict situations were in their consciousness, the women seemed most
focused on addressing the daily poverty they faced.
It was the women of Central Mindanao who most systematically linked their poverty to the on-going
armed conflict. They blamed their displacement for their losses in economic capital, difficulties in
finding livelihoods, and problems with their children’s schooling and health. This was similarly the
case with the evacuees from Leyte. The women of Abra, Mindoro Oriental, Capiz, Surigao del Sur and
Compostela Valley – and especially the direct victims themselves – in turn decried the disruption of
their lives due to military operations even as the poverty-related problems they faced became more
pronounced daily.
A notable recurring hope of the mothers in all the research areas relates to their children’s education –
that if only their children could finish even just elementary school, their children would not have to
experience the poverty of their parents. Related to this was their demand for schools in their
community, good quality teachers, scholarships for their children and day care centers.
However, also persistently mentioned as needs were those pertaining to their economic life. The
women cited a range of economic needs: farm tools (shovels, plows, sprayers, threshers, etc.), work
animals, tractors and irrigation; poultry and livestock; higher prices and wider markets for their
products; lower prices of seeds, fertilizers and pesticides; jobs and livelihood opportunities (including
credit, capital, sewing machines); and even soil analysis to understand why their yields are so low.
Reflecting the gross inadequacies in their communities, the women also expressed needs for health
centers, doctors, nurses and other health personnel; pre-natal and family planning; medicines and
vitamins; more accessible clean water; electricity; better transport systems and roads.
The women in areas which have accumulated experience with local community groups were able to
articulate various needs towards strengthening their people’s organizations including help with
planning and implementation of projects such as cooperatives and health programs. It was also
emphasized that these groups were necessary for them to be able to unite not only to gain strength in
numbers but also to access external help (i.e. support groups for national minorities, help for IDPs).
A range of national political and economic demands were also articulated, indicating high levels of
social awareness among the women reached by the research team. The FGD groups articulated
demands, in varying degrees, for: preservation of their natural resources; an end to destructive mining
and logging; changes in national economic policies like oil price deregulation; and changes in
government and governance.
There were also very specific demands particular to the armed conflicts the women and their
communities were often in the middle of.. Recurrent was the demand – sometimes in the form of a plea
– for civilians to be left out of the fighting and particularly for the military to stop accusing and scaring
civilians. There was a persistent call for soldiers not to enter their communities, which was sometimes
expressed as a desire for an end to “militarization”, even as there were instances when the NPA was
also asked not to enter because they invite military presence. Women also asked for a stop to violations
of their rights and demanded justice for victims of human rights violations. On a number of occasions
the demand was even more precise: for there to be respect for the rules of war and also for the
Comprehensive Agreement on Respect for Human Rights and International Humanitarian Law
(CARHRIHL). Lumen of Leyte, for instance, said that “If you’re a civilian, then you’re a civilian.”
(Dapat kung sibilyan ka, sibilyan ka). She added: “The [war] is already there. All I ask for is that they
respect the rules of war.” (Andyan na yun. Ang hiling ko lang ay sumunod sa batas ng gyera.)
Residents from Abra said that three adjoining barrios had already gone to the town mayor to petition
government soldiers to respect the CARHRIHL during their military operations. (Pumunta kami sa
munisipyo. Tatlong baryo ang nagsasama doon at nakipag-usap at nagkaisa na gumawa ng petisyon
na kahit may military operation, irespeto nila (sundalo) ang kasunduan partikular ang CARHRIHL.)
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Some of the communities volunteered awareness of the peace talks between the Philippine government
and the MILF and the NDFP, respectively. Women have asked for these to continue and conclude
successfully. It was expressed simply in, for example, Surigao del Sur: “For the peace talks to
continue.” (Magpatuloy ang peace talks.) In the case of the Central Mindanao women FGDs there was
a specific desire for government recognition of Bangsamoro independence and their ancestral domain.
The women of the FGD in Maguindano agreed that their hope for a peaceful community, restored
livelihoods and overcoming poverty lay in just one thing: “We hope that the on-going negotiations
between the government and the MILF are successful. We expect that the negotiations will result in the
Bangsamoro getting independence which means fulfilling what is in the Q’uran.” (Sana ay maging
matagumpay ang nagaganap na negosasyon sa pagitan ng gubyerno at MILF. Ang inaasahang resulta
ng negosasyon ay makamit ng Bangsamoro ng Independence na ang pakahulugan ay ang
pagpapatupad ng nakasaad sa Koran.)
The current and recent IDPs also expressed particular needs related to their displacement. All said they
needed to secure livelihoods somehow, be this through finding jobs or getting the capital for small
businesses. Those who have been able to return to their villages – the Central Mindanao evacuees –
still expressed needs for food support while they still do not have sources of livelihood, and for help in
recovering basic household items they lost as a result of their displacement (clothing, kitchen items,
pails, wash basins and the like). Despite acknowledging housing “rehab” projects, the women still said
they needed homes, housing materials and carpentry tools. Scabies apparently continues to be a
scourge and they have also asked for more knowledge about it as well as cures.
The primary need expressed by the still-displaced Leyte evacuees was straightforward: to be able to
safely return to their homes and farms; to be reunited with their families and relatives. In the meantime,
having become aware that there are so many of them in similar circumstances, they have also expressed
their desire to set up an organization of IDPs from their province.
The women also poignantly articulated other visions: an end to war and fighting for more peaceful
communities, peace for the lumad, and a change in the social system; Bangsamoro communities for
themselves and according to the Q’uran.
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CHAPTER 6.
Overall Impact of the Conflict
The overall impact of armed conflict on communities can be understood at two levels: the
accumulation of effects on individual men, women and children as well as on communities; and, far
more difficult to identify, the general effect at the national level of protracted guerrilla and positional
armed conflicts in terms of lost economic opportunities and unrealized social potentials. The second
level of impact is important however it is beyond the scope of the current study.
Other chapters of this study provide qualitative details on the effects of armed conflict particularly on
children and women. This chapter draws on those experiences towards coming up with some general
conclusions regarding overall impact.
Accumulated Effects
The accumulated effects of armed conflict are most conventionally seen in terms of the tallying the
number of individual victims and extrapolating the sum of the adverse effects on them. This is the case
for instance when counting over a million IDPS, some 43,000 victims of conflict-related human rights
violations, and 343 civilian casualties of armed encounters over the period 2001-2005 – and then
giving more depth to these numbers through qualitative accounts. Aside from the effects on children
and women already discussed earlier, there are four points particularly regarding economic effects and
social capital worth emphasizing:
1.
2.
3.
4.
The people reached by the research were mainly engaged in subsistence low-input agricultural
production with extremely low productivity. Their families were perpetually on the knife-edge
of subsistence: earning just enough to survive and meet their most basic needs and not
generating any surplus. They were in a delicate equilibrium easily upset by theft, health
emergencies, adverse weather and the manifold disruptions to lives by armed conflict.
Accumulated losses in personal economic capital can be considerable for those directly
affected. Respondents were particularly burdened by the costs of rebuilding homes, replacing
livestock, and restoring crops and farmland. IDPs were most adversely affected. Also, the
communities covered by the study already suffered from bad roads, and water, power,
telecommunication, education and health infrastructure problems to begin with. There have
been anecdotal accounts of significant and sustained damage to these due to fighting in MILF
camps, but with no such accounts emerging in NPA-influenced areas.
Aside from evident economic losses, victims of armed conflict also suffer losses in social
capital that has been painstakingly built up. These include disruptions not only in the usual
family support networks but also in community-based organizations. Armed conflict situations
have rendered these untenable for various reasons and in varying degrees.
The momentum of recovery begins after fighting and when the disruptive presence of abusive
soldiers recedes. This is relatively quick for those who remain in their communities and much
more difficult for IDPs who are unable to quickly regain or rebuild the accumulated economic
capital they have lost due to armed conflict. The problem is most severe in the Moro areas
which have seen cycles of war since the 1970s. This has resulted in a situation of perpetually
arrested development.
Shooting battles and military operations thus have interrelated consequences on the safety, security,
health, education and economy of civilian communities. All have negative effects on children and
women as part of the civilian, non-combatant population.
The knife-edge of subsistence
As this study has emphasized, the effects on civilians and how they recover should be seen against their
basically precarious situations to begin with: low economic status and the underdeveloped conditions
of their communities. These communities typically subsist on backward farming and fishing –
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notoriously unpredictable and subject to the vagaries of the weather – as their means of livelihood.
Farm lots are usually small and poorly irrigated, if at all. Family members young and old, male or
female, often have to keep going farther and farther away for odd jobs to augment poor household
incomes. Especially in the Moro areas, the worst off families are buried in debt, with harvests going to
just stopping debts from growing further. Moro people looking for work are also greatly burdened by
Christian chauvinism and discrimination.
All this adds up to a very limited economic basis for family life. The more this is undermined by
untoward events, the harder it is for the victims to make progress along any of the other areas of
impact: education, health, psychosocial well-being and others. The most severe effects occur when
family members are killed or maimed. The loss of any close family is a great tragedy in itself but the
burden is magnified even more if the casualties are those who had previously shouldered major
economic and domestic family responsibilities. Destructive armed conflict and widespread looting also
threaten to wipe out hard-earned capital and to divest poor rural families of critical sources of
livelihood not just in the immediate period but also far into the future.
Personal economic capital and public infrastructure
Rural assets such as land, livestock and plants are products of months and even years of agricultural
labor by a rural family and the community. Months of unrelenting labor in clearing, cleaning and
irrigation is invested for land to start being productive. Significant efforts are also needed to maintain
the land’s productivity with, for instance, a sudden overgrowth of weeds sufficient to ruin a harvest
many months of toil in the making. The same is true of farm animals and livestock and it takes months
or even years of feeding and looking after chickens, goats, pigs and carabaos before they are
economically useful.
Destructive armed conflict threatens to wipe out this hard-earned capital and to divest poor rural
families of critical sources of livelihood not just in the immediate period but also far into the future.
This may come in the form of collateral damage. Coconut trees are felled by bombs, carabaos are shot,
and crops abandoned as residents flee communities that have become war zones. Unfortunately, the
damage also comes in the form of widespread looting or even intentional destruction of crops,
livestock, agricultural machinery and homes. Almost all the research sites visited lamented the
military’s reckless trampling on their crops (in the countryside, relatively open fields are the easiest
paths to take instead of having to navigate roundabout narrow paths or thick foliage).
The loss of homes is economically and psychologically painful. The accumulated value of whatever
savings earned through hard work these embody is lost. But the destruction of homes is also
tantamount to families’ losing the single biggest physical manifestation of their permanence in the
community. This was particularly observed in North Cotabato and Maguindanao. Communities have
also reported being divested of their property, with their produce harvested by others either for their
own consumption or for sale. The poor rural families encountered by the research team invariably
blamed government forces for these.
There is also a particularity to agricultural production cycles that needs to be considered. These
production cycles are quite extended – lasting months for temporary crops and years for permanent
crops – but are so delicate that a disruption at any point can compromise entire harvests. In the research
sites of the current study these disruptions have taken many forms and ranged from temporary forced
neglect of farmlands to actual destruction of crops and livestock. In any case it was clear that even in
the “mild” cases of a few weeks of suspension of livelihood activities such as farm work, the disruption
was often enough for damage to become irreversible until the next planting or cropping season.
The permanent loss of a harvest invariably results in families – living hand-to-mouth existences to start
with – being pushed deeper into crisis and debt. Or, at the very least, harvests for consumption or sale
are reduced because less time working the fields reduces output and productivity. This can happen due
to curfews or restrictions in mobility, either enforced by the military or self-imposed by fearful farmers.
Peasant respondents in Abra, Mindoro Oriental, Capiz, Surigao del Sur and Compostela Valley shared
many experiences on this problem.
Communities that rely on hunting and gathering produce like wild boar or honey from mountain forests
as a source of additional sustenance for their families are also seriously affected. The interruption lasts
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at least as long as fighting is ongoing, but the loss of access can go on longer when communities are
afraid of being caught going into forests by soldiers and then being accused of going to help the NPA.
Respondents in Abra and Capiz living beside thickly forested areas particularly felt such losses.
Social capital
These effects are further aggravated by the loss in painstakingly built-up social capital. At the very
least there are interruptions in children’s education and disruptions in the community’s religious and
social activities. At worst, the social capital built up through many years of organizing local peasant,
women and youth organizations and of establishing informal support networks among families, friends
and neighbors are rendered untenable by counter-insurgency tactics that – in line with current military
doctrine – look with suspicion at any sort of organized activity in communities.
It is a recurring narrative in virtually all the areas visited that government soldiers use threats,
harassment, intimidation, and violence to force communities to withdraw their support or even turn
against the rebel armed groups operating in the area. Worst affected are those directly victimized by
soldiers but the effects go far beyond and spread to the rest of the community: the climate of fear, the
forced adjustments in everyday work and domestic routines especially childcare, the effective loss of
the right to move freely within and around the community, and the short- and long-term displacement
of entire families.
Formal organizational meetings which are central to any group activity are looked upon with suspicion
by government forces and discouraged if not outright broken up. Collective community social and
economic projects are accused of being NPA-initiated and those involved of being NPA supporters. It
has been distressing to hear respondents, such as in Leyte and Mindoro Oriental, say that they do not
want to get involved or join organizations anymore because they and those close to them just end up
getting hurt.
Informal support networks that share resources also become unviable when those involved are
dispersed, become overwhelmingly preoccupied with pressing survival needs, or end up having
diminished resources to share. These factors also lead to the continuing attitudes of fear and distrust
that communities feel towards the military and, insofar as the soldiers are the most visible sign of the
presence of the state, of the government as a whole.
Recovery
Recovery can only begin when the community’s situation is more or less stable – certainly not before
actual fighting ends and in many cases only after the deeply disruptive presence of military operations.
This disruptive presence is most brazenly manifest in active and outright violations of human rights.
These need not even be violent although deadly physical attacks in any case apparently do happen.
They can include such military control measures as a community “census” where soldiers go house-tohouse listing family members and probing for indications of being NPA supporters (Mindoro Oriental);
having farmers sign the barangay logbook so that the military can keep track of their movements
(Leyte); and remote households being forced to move into a common area near the village center for
closer monitoring (Capiz). The general climate of fear also discourages an immediate return to more
normal work and social habits and patterns, thus prolonging the recovery process.
The return to some level of normalcy is most difficult in the case of long-term IDPs who are unable to
quickly regain or rebuild the economic capital they had previously accumulated but had lost due to the
outbreak of fighting in their villages.
Arrested development
The problem is most severe in the Moro areas which have seen cycles of destructive large-scale
shooting wars since the 1970s that have resulted in a situation of perpetually arrested development. The
damage to farms and property is severe, which means that much greater effort is needed to rebuild
them. However, the effort to rebuild itself often becomes half-hearted because of the fear (or
expectation) that the inevitable outbreak of fighting again will just destroy any hard-earned gains
anyway.
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Indeed, the cycle of war for the past three decades seems to have set a new low and lasting level of
“war-time normalcy” compared to the pre-1970s situation. Economic and social recovery in MILF
camps seems not so much a return to some pre-war peace but rather to a situation more akin to a
momentary lull in fighting. Community members have lamented that they feel like repeaters in school
perpetually stuck in “grade one” and unable to move forward; the collapse in morale is palpable.
Already long-suffering from conditions of poverty which breed these conflicts in the first place, they
are pushed by large-scale fighting even further into a state of destitution. And when the fighting ends
all they have to return to is at best the low-level equilibrium far beneath anything that might be
realizable during a genuine extended peace.
A parent in North Cotabato articulated their predicament: “Because of the conflict here in Mindanao,
we always begin with nothing. We are attacked, we lose our properties; our homes, mosque and
madrasah are burned. When we return, then we start over with nothing. People will say, how will these
people govern when all they have to show for themselves is the single piece of cloth that they wear.
Yes, but only because our situation here year in and year out is that we are in the midst of war.”
(Subalit sa kaguluhang nangyayari dito sa Mindanao, paulit-ulit kaming nagsisimula sa wala. Inaatake
kami, nawala ang aming properties, nasunog ang aming mga bahay, aming mga simbahan pati ang
madrasa. Pagbalik namin, doon naman kami nagsisimula sa wala. Ang sasabihin pa ng ibang tao,
“Paano magpapalakad ng isang gobyerno ang mga taong ito na kung titingnan mo ay isang tapis lang
ang kasuutan?” Oo, dahil nga sa sitwasyon dito sa aming lugar na taun-taon ay may kaguluhan.)
The sense of uncertainty and helplessness that sometimes emerged in the war-torn Moro communities
visited is stark and had no comparable equivalent in the less war-afflicted non-Moro areas.
Respondents told of the loss of family members, the burning of homes, uprooting from communities,
damage to crops and fields, destruction of roads and agricultural infrastructure, absence of basic social
services, and a persistent marginalization from “mainstream” political, economic and national life.
They also spoke of outright violent attacks against them precisely because of the most deeply felt
center of their identities – being Muslim. The sense of despair has not spared even children and 15year-old Nasriah of North Cotabato said with resignation: “I really don’t know who’s at fault because
it’s a difficult question. Even if I ask my parents, they don’t know either. They just keep quiet because
they can’t do anything about it. Yes, I accept that when there’s fighting again we’re going to evacuate,
and we’re going to accept everything that happens. There’s really nothing we can do.” (Di ko talaga
maisip, kung sino talaga ang may kasalanan, kasi mahirap isipin. Kahit magtanong ako sa magulang
ko di din nila alam. Kasi nagwalang-kibo na lang ang mga magulang ko, wala naman silang
magagawa. Oo, tanggap na kung gegerahin ulit, lilikas ulit at tatanggapin lahat. Wala naman kaming
magagawa.)
Lesser impact
The impact on civilians in areas of guerrilla warfare is qualitatively different even if sharing some
essential similarities with the situation in areas of positional conflicts. “Recovery” in the sense of
rebuilding economic capital generally seems relatively easier because the scale of destruction due to
fighting or of deterioration due to forced abandonment tends to be less. The much lower intensity of
fighting away from populated centers – compared to prolonged massive attacks on MILF fixed campscum-communities – also means less damage to personal properties and village infrastructure.
Shorter periods of displacements mean shorter periods of abandonment of farms and, assuming that a
return to regular work routines is possible, mean less work to get these back into working order. At the
same time, however, short-term IDPs have also complained about returning to their communities to
find livestock stolen and produce consumed; stores ransacked and personal belongings stolen. Indeed
there were those who said that government forces brazenly did these before their very eyes even before
they had started evacuating (Surigao del Sur).
None of the non-Moro areas have yet been visited by hostilities on the scale and regularity seen in
Central Mindanao so there does not yet seem to be the demoralizing feeling of perpetually arrested
development. However the particularity to the areas in NPA guerrilla fronts is the pervasiveness of
military counter-insurgency operations. As already noted elsewhere in this study, state forces are
unable to enter, stay in and exit MILF camps in the way that they can do so, more or less, in NPA
guerrilla fronts. Hence notwithstanding the “lesser” impact in terms of the consequences of direct
110
fighting, there are instead the pervasive and lingering effects and insecurities associated with longdrawn-out military operations.
While there is more space for recovery insofar as the effect of relatively “low impact” armed conflict is
mitigated, this has to be qualified by whether or not there are military counter-insurgency operations in
the area and whether these are still at the “clearing” and “holding” stages which seem to correspond to
harsher treatment of civilians suspected of supporting the NPA. In any case, it does seem that a greater
degree of normalcy can more quickly be restored in the NPA guerrilla front areas in the absence of
intrusive military operations.
The exception to this is in the case of the Leyte evacuees who felt threatened for being identified as
supporters of the CPP-NPA-NDFP and so packed up and left. These were families that did not face
severe shooting battles in their communities, but who nonetheless chose to semi-permanently displace
themselves, some leaving as hurriedly and frantically as if there was on-going fighting in their midst.
Whatever the specific details, the common result is a drastic change in these families’ futures where
they have left behind or even sold their homes, productive farm land, and other income-earning
property to take their chances in urban centers in the Visayas region or as far away as in the National
Capital Region (NCR).
The research team also tried to generate insights into the possible differences, or lack thereof, between
armed conflict (AC) and non-armed conflict (non-AC) areas. This was attempted through household
surveys in each of the eight (8) provinces visited for the study – Abra, Mindoro Oriental, Capiz, Leyte,
Surigao del Sur, Compostela Valley, North Cotabato and Maguindanao – where an AC town and a
non-AC town within the same province were compared.. The sampling was purposive.
Within each province the barangay site of the qualitative data-gathering was automatically taken to
represent the “armed conflict town”. Twenty-five (25) women aged 18 and above and 25 children aged
9-17 were randomly selected within the barangay and questionnaires administered. Selection was done
by counting every third house starting from the barangay hall with at most only one woman and one
child from each house; a parent or otherwise older relative needed to be present for each child
respondent. The “non-armed conflict town” in turn was randomly selected from the remaining
municipalities within the province of the same municipality class as the research site and with no
incidents of hostilities in the last five years. If it turned out that all towns in the same municipality class
have had armed conflict incidents, then the procedure was repeated with the next higher class of
municipality until a match was found. A barangay was then randomly selected within this town, and
then the 25 women and 25 children respondents chosen according to the same procedure in the “armed
conflict town”.
With its non-probability sample, the survey design does not allow for generalizations about AC and
non-AC areas as a whole (i.e., at the national level) although it does permit comparisons between the
particular AC and non-AC areas surveyed (i.e. between the specific eight AC and eight non-AC areas).
The results were then most appropriately read as providing an additional level of description and
comparison to complement the detailed qualitative accounts from the field visits in armed conflict
areas, not national-level generalizations.
Generally speaking, there tended to be wide variations between individual provinces. This indicated
that a major factor affecting results was that the provinces themselves vary in terms of socioeconomic
levels and quality of governance. Indeed, in terms of poverty incidence, the eight provinces ranged
from the country’s second (2nd) to sixtieth (60th) poorest provinces out of eighty (80) provinces
nationwide. On a few occasions there were marked differences between the Central Mindanao areas
and the others which likely reflected the differences due to the respective natures of positional and
guerrilla conflicts.
With these qualifications the study arrived at the following observations on the difference between
armed conflict and non-armed conflict areas. Percentages are rounded-off and may not always add up.
On education
111
•
The percentage of children who said that they were not in school was almost the same in AC
and non-AC areas – 24 percent (AC) and 23 percent (non-AC).
The greatest concentration of children stopped schooling at about the same level,
between grades 4-6 – 47 percent (AC) and 42 percent (non-AC).
In AC areas, the reasons cited for stopping schooling were (multiple response): lack
of funds (70 percent), turmoil (kaguluhan) due to war (19 percent), far-away school
(17 percent), not interested (13 percent) and need to work (11 percent). Other
responses included death of parents and marriage.
In non-AC areas, the reasons cited for stopping schooling were (multiple response):
lack of funds (76 percent), need to work (18 percent), not interested (16 percent),
sickness (4 percent) and far-away school (4 percent).
•
More children in AC areas said that they had family members who stopped schooling while in
elementary school – 55 percent (AC) versus 36 percent (non-AC) – and while in high school –
44 percent (AC) versus 33 percent (non-AC).
In AC areas, the reasons cited for their family members’ stopping schooling were
lack of funds (49 percent), lack of interest (22 percent), turmoil due to war (18
percent), far-away school (11 percent) and need to work (9 percent). Other reasons
cited were personal problems, marriage, death of parents and broken home.
• The reason of turmoil due to war was cited only in four out of the eight
provinces. Their respective provincial response rates were: 76 percent
(North Cotabato), 40 percent (Maguindanao), 16 percent (Oriental
Mindoro) and 8 percent (Surigao del Sur).
In non-AC areas, the reasons cited for their family members’ stopping schooling
were lack of funds (41 percent), need to work (13 percent), far-away school (5
percent) and marriage (3 percent). Other reasons cited were death of parents, broken
home, and turmoil due to war.
•
The percentage of women who said that they had young relatives (5-17 years old) in their
household who had stopped school was almost the same – 28 percent (AC) and 25 percent
(non-AC).
•
When the women were asked what they thought were the main reasons that their young family
members had stopped schooling, they cited (multiple response):
In AC areas – lack of funds (44 percent), sickness (18 percent), fighting between
military and rebels (14 percent), lack of interest (11 percent), need to work (10
percent), far-away school (10 percent), marriage (2 percent) and joined NPA (1
percent).
• The reason of fighting between military and rebels was cited in five out of
the eight provinces. The respective provincial response rates were: 52
percent (North Cotabato), 32 percent (Maguindanao), 12 percent (Oriental
Mindoro), 8 percent (Abra) and 4 percent (Leyte).
In non-AC areas – lack of funds (38 percent), need to work (13 percent), lack of
interest (12 percent), marriage (5 percent), far-away school (4 percent), sickness (1
percent) and fighting between military and rebels (1 percent).
•
More children in AC areas said that not all the students in their school had their own desks –
18 percent (AC) versus 5 percent (non-AC).
•
Slightly fewer children in AC areas said that their classes had forty-one (41) or more students
– 27 percent (AC) versus 33 percent (non-AC).
•
More children in AC areas said that they had multi-grade sessions in their classes – 32 percent
(AC) versus 13 percent (non-AC).
On health
•
The number of times children said they ate per day was almost the same in AC and non-AC
areas.
More than three times a day – 10 percent (AC) and 9 percent (non-AC)
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Three times a day – 75 percent (AC) and 79 percent (non-AC)
Two times a day – 10 percent (AC) and 10 percent (non-AC)
Once or less a day – 5 percent (AC) and 3 percent (non-AC)
•
Fewer children in AC areas said there were the following health services or facilities in their
barangay:
Barangay health workers – 69 percent (AC) versus 81 percent (non-AC)
Health centers – 41 percent (AC) versus 67 percent (non-AC)
Clinics – 6 percent (AC) versus 37 percent (non-AC)
Traditional healer (arbolaryo) – 33 percent (AC) versus 48 percent (non-AC)
•
More children in AC areas said there was a community organization providing health services
in their barangay – 26 percent (AC) versus 20 percent (non-AC).
•
Fewer women in AC areas said there were the following health services or facilities in their
barangay:
Health centers or clinics – 64 percent (AC) versus 87 percent (non-AC)
•
Fewer children in AC areas said there were the following health services or facilities in a
neighboring barangay:
Health centers – 41 percent (AC) versus 69 percent (non-AC)
Clinics – 19 percent (AC) versus 31 percent (non-AC)
Traditional healer (arbolaryo) – 27 percent (AC) versus 32 percent (non-AC)
•
The same number of children said there was a community organization providing health
services in a neighboring barangay – 16 percent (AC and non-AC).
•
Fewer children in AC areas said they had been vaccinated – 89 percent (AC) versus 96
percent (non-AC).
•
More women in armed conflict areas said they experienced sudden interruptions in health
services – 81 percent (AC) and 69 percent (non-AC). The reasons cited were (multiple
response):
In AC areas – funding dried up (71 percent), war (20 percent), lack of service (14
percent), destruction of facilities due to calamity or accident (11 percent), infrequent
visit of medical personnel (3 percent).
• The reason of turmoil due to war was heavily concentrated in two
provinces. The respective provincial response rates were: 48 percent
(North Cotabato) and 56 percent (Maguindanao).
In non-AC areas – funding dried up (75 percent), destruction of facilities due to
calamity or accident (12 percent), lack of service (11 percent), infrequent visit of
medical personnel (7 percent) and others.
•
The number of children who said there were sicknesses that “frequently” afflict children in
their area was almost the same – 82 percent (AC) and 84 percent (non-AC). They cited the
following sicknesses (multiple response):
In AC areas – fever (43 percent), coughs (36 percent), colds (30 percent), scabies (19
percent), flu (13 percent), and diarrhea (9 percent).
In non-AC areas – fever (51 percent), coughs (49 percent), colds (27 percent), scabies
(27 percent) and flu (19 percent).
•
The number of women who said there were sicknesses that “frequently” afflict women in their
area was almost the same – 83 percent (AC) and 79 percent (non-AC). They cited the
following sicknesses (multiple response):
In AC areas – flu (41 percent), cough (36 percent), headache (30 percent),
stomachache (24 percent), colds (16 percent), body aches/pains (14 percent),
rheumatism (13 percent), goiter (11 percent), diarrhea (11 percent), malaria (11
percent), blurred vision (10 percent), asthma (8 percent), high blood (8 percent), heart
113
failure (7 percent), ulcer (7 percent), toothache (6 percent), tuberculosis (5 percent),
UTI (3 percent) and others.
In non-AC areas – flu (40 percent), cough (34 percent), rheumatism (17 percent),
colds (16 percent), blurred vision (15 percent), skin allergy (15 percent), headache
(11 percent), high blood (11 percent), stomachache (9 percent), asthma (9 percent),
tuberculosis (9 percent), ulcer (7 percent), UTI (6 percent), cancer (6 percent), body
aches/pains (4 percent), diarrhea (4 percent) and others.
On mobility
•
More children in armed conflict areas said there was a curfew in their communities – 44
percent (AC) versus 34 percent (non-AC).
•
Fewer children in armed conflict areas said they were allowed to play outside or wander freely
– 75 percent (AC) versus 86 percent (non-AC).
•
More children in armed conflict areas said there was a place they are scared to go to – 54
percent (AC) versus 47 percent (non-AC). When asked why, they answered:
In AC areas – fighting between the military and rebels (26 percent), presence of
soldiers/CAFGU (17 percent), snakes (9 percent) and ghosts/evil spirits (7 percent);
no answer (15 percent).
In non-AC areas – ghosts/evil spirits (21 percent), drug addicts (12 percent),
accident-prone areas (10 percent); no answer (27 percent).
On families’ production work, earnings and livelihoods
•
More children in armed conflict areas helped their families in production work – 74 percent
(AC) versus 55 percent (non-AC).
•
The children said their families’ main sources of livelihood were:
In AC areas – farming (79 percent), farm labor (8 percent), small businesses (6
percent), fishing (4 percent) and non-farm wages (3 percent).
In non-AC areas – farming (39 percent), non-farm wages (16 percent), small
businesses (15 percent), fishing (10 percent), wage labor (9 percent), farm labor (7
percent) and driving (3 percent)
•
The women said that their families’ main sources of livelihood were:
In AC areas – farming (86 percent), slash-and-burn farming (17 percent), fishing (14
percent), small businesses (13 percent), non-farm wages (8 percent), gardening (7
percent), poultry raising (3 percent), OFW income (1 percent), pension (1 percent)
and no answer (4 percent).
In non-AC areas – farming (48 percent), small businesses (30 percent), non-farm
wages (29 percent), fishing (16 percent), driving (3 percent), poultry raising (2
percent), pension (1 percent) and no answer (3 percent).
•
More women in AC areas said their family’s earnings were not enough for their needs – 76
•
More women in AC areas said they were directly involved in their families’ main sources of
livelihood – 80 percent (AC) versus 61 percent (non-AC).
•
More children in AC areas said their family’s livelihood had been drastically affected in the
last five years – 67 percent (AC) versus 30 percent (non-AC).
The most frequently cited reasons for this were:
• In the AC areas – war (42 percent), militarization (17 percent), typhoon
(12 percent), parents lost jobs (9 percent) and entry of soldiers (5 percent).
• In the non-AC areas – “crisis” (29 percent), typhoons (17 percent), high
prices (17 percent), and death in the family (7 percent).
114
Fewer children in AC areas said they were subsequently forced to find work – 29
•
More women in AC areas said their family’s livelihood had been drastically affected in the
last five years – 75 percent (AC) versus 28 percent (non-AC).
The most frequently cited reasons for this were:
• In the AC areas – war (30 percent), militarization (23 percent), bombing
(9 percent), evacuation (8 percent), fighting between military and rebels
(5 percent), typhoon (5 percent), nothing to plant (5 percent), sickness in
the family (3 percent), crops were destroyed (3 percent) and others.
• In the non-AC areas – livelihood problems (16 percent), typhoon (15
percent), “crisis” (15 percent), no work (11 percent), landgrabbing/ejected from land, (10 percent), sickness in the family (9
percent), militarization (4 percent), family problems (2 percent) and
others.
More women in AC areas said they were subsequently forced to find work – 35
percent (AC) versus 16 percent (non-AC). Of those who took on other work, the most
commonly cited were :
• In AC areas– vending (29 percent), farm labor in other farms (28 percent),
fishing (6 percent) and domestic helpers (4 percent).
• In non-AC areas – domestic helpers (25 percent), vending (19 percent),
laundrywoman (19 percent) and farm labor in other farms (6 percent).
On women’s reproductive work
•
More women in AC areas said they encountered drastic problems in house work and taking
care of their children – 44 percent (AC) versus 15 percent (non-AC).
The most frequently cited reasons for these were:
• In the AC areas – sickness in the family (19 percent), separated from
children (19 percent), militarization (18 percent), could not find work (9
percent), evacuation (8 percent), war (6 percent), poverty (3 percent) and
others.
• In the non-AC areas – sickness in the family (57 percent), poverty (10
percent), separated from children (7 percent) and others.
On violence against women
•
Fewer women in AC areas said that they knew of the following happening in their
community:
Wife-beating/abuse – 20 percent (AC) versus 27 percent (non-AC)
Rape – 12 percent (AC) versus 21 percent (non-AC)
•
More women in AC areas said that they knew of the following happening in their community:
Gross disrespect (pambabastos) of women – 18 percent versus 16 percent (non-AC)
Threats to women – 18 percent (AC) versus 15 percent (non-AC)
•
However, a high proportion of respondents did not give any answers – 57 percent (AC) and 44
percent (non-AC).
On women’s concerns
•
When women were asked what events or experiences caused them to worry or be fearful, they
answered (multiple response):
In AC areas – militarization (27 percent), war (25 percent), threats by military (16
percent), bombing (9 percent), being accused of supporting NPA (6 percent), rape (5
percent), rebels (5 percent), many deaths (3 percent) and others.
In non-AC areas – rape (7 percent), drunks (6 percent), feeling bad (5 percent),
family squabbles (4 percent) and others; 44 percent did not give any answer.
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On available services and programs
•
When the women were asked who had programs for women in their area they answered:
In AC areas – government (21 percent), community organizations (25 percent), no
one (47 percent) and don’t know (11 percent)
In non-AC areas – government (25 percent), community organizations (13 percent),
no one (44 percent) and don’t know (14 percent)
•
More women in AC areas said the government did not have livelihood programs in their
community – 77 percent (AC) versus 55 percent (non-AC).
•
When the women were asked if the government was able to address their livelihood needs
they answered:
In AC areas – sufficient (6 percent), not enough (66 percent), don’t know (25
percent) and no answer (4 percent)
In non-AC areas – sufficient (11 percent), not enough (51 percent), don’t know (31
•
When the women were asked if the government was able to address their health needs they
answered:
In AC areas – sufficient (7 percent), not enough (82 percent), don’t know (9 percent)
and no answer (2 percent)
•
When the women were asked if the government was able to address their children’s education
needs they answered:
In AC areas – sufficient (8 percent), not enough (70 percent), don’t know (14
On community organizations
•
More children in AC areas said there were local youth organizations in their community – 39
percent (AC) versus 29 percent (non-AC). More or less the same number of children said that
they did not know – 28 percent (AC) and 26 percent (non-AC).
•
More children in AC areas said they approached community organizations if they had a
problem – 17 percent (AC) versus 2 percent (non-AC).
•
More women in AC areas said there were local women organizations in their community – 58
On problems in their area
•
More children in armed conflict areas said they and their families were currently facing
turmoil (kaguluhan) or dangers (panganib) – 40 percent (AC) versus 30 percent (non-AC).
The most frequent problems cited were:
In AC areas – militarization (28 percent), fighting between the military and rebels (16
percent), war (16 percent) and “crisis” (6 percent). Other problems cited were:
bombing, economic crisis, family grudge, loss of jobs by parents, sickness, inability
to finish schooling and death.
In non-AC areas – “crisis” (29 percent), family grudge (10 percent), rising river
waters (9 percent) and drug addicts (7 percent). Other problems cited were: turmoil
(kaguluhan), sickness, hunger, economic crisis, war, inability to finish schooling,
calamity and stealing.
•
When the women were asked who helped them address their problems as women – i.e. single
female, wife, mother – they answered (multiple response):
116
In AC areas – family (70 percent), community organization (30 percent), government
(8 percent), no one (3 percent).
In non-AC areas – family (76 percent), community organization (15 percent),
government (25 percent), no one (6 percent).
On utilities
•
Fewer women in AC areas said their homes had electricity – 30 percent (AC) versus 72
percent (non-AC).
Of those women who said that their homes had electricity, fewer women in AC areas
experienced disruption in electricity services – 83 percent (AC) versus 91 percent
(non-AC).
Of those women who said that they had experienced disruptions in electrical services,
the reasons cited were:
• In AC areas – calamity (43 percent), normal expected disruptions (31
percent), inability to pay (16 percent), lack of fuel (2 percent), war (2
percent) and no answer (6 percent).
• In non-AC areas – normal expected disruptions (58 percent), inability to
pay (25 percent) and calamity (15 percent) and no answer (2 percent).
•
More women in AC areas said they had nearby sources of potable water – 98 percent (AC)
versus 94 percent (non-AC). These sources are (multiple response):
In AC areas – spring (47 percent), faucet (31 percent), well (27 percent), pump (23
percent), river (14 percent), rain-water (2 percent).
In non-AC areas – faucet (22 percent), rain-water (15 percent), well (14 percent),
spring (13 percent), water for sale (9 percent), pump (6 percent) and river (1 percent).
•
Fewer women in AC areas said there were times that they had difficulty getting potable water
– 67 percent (AC) versus 70 percent (non-AC). Of those who said that they had such
difficulty, the reasons they cited were (multiple response):
In AC areas – water source dried up (71 percent), water became dirty due to
calamity/accident (23 percent), war (14 percent), flooding (8 percent).
In non-AC areas – water source dried up (71 percent), water became dirty due to
calamity/accident (24 percent), water became salty (6 percent), no electricity (3
percent), war (1 percent), and no money to buy (1 percent).
Chapter conclusion
Along many aspects, the results of the qualitative and survey data-gathering complement and reinforce
each other in specifying how the country’s internal armed conflicts affect children and women. Without
strictly repeating the results as they stand we can make a few overall conclusions.
In armed conflict areas poverty is higher, educational and health facilities are scarcer, and electricity
access limited. Children and women have greater roles in their families’ livelihoods – which likely
reflects how there are few sources of income in hinterland areas and economic production tends to be
peasant- and family-based agriculture. Women particularly expressed dissatisfaction with how the
government addressed their families’ livelihood, health and education needs. This could be due to a
combination of, objectively, poor government services per se and, subjectively, to a sense of
deprivation emerging from a more critical or ideologically-driven assessment of the state. On the other
hand, there seem to be more community organizations in armed conflict areas that provide health and
other services.
Armed conflict situations have adverse effects on those directly affected by fighting or militarization.
Children and women confirm that war and militarization have had drastic effects on their families’
livelihoods, as well as causing them much worry and making them fearful. Women also add that these
have caused them problems in meeting their domestic responsibilities. Children face more curfews and
are less able to wander freely. The results of the qualitative data-gathering in particular indicate a
pattern of deliberate aggression against civilians, including children and women.
117
While the lack of funds is the overwhelming reason cited for children stopping their studies (i.e.,
families cannot provide incidental needs) and for disruptions in health services (i.e., the local
government has no funds for health), many respondents also cited reasons related to armed conflict.
These responses were, as might be expected, heavily concentrated in the Central Mindanao research
areas and among long-term IDPs. But there is little to indicate that electricity or water services have
been disrupted by war.
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CHAPTER 7.
Some Experiences in Meeting the Needs of Children
and Women
In looking into how the needs of children and women affected by armed conflict have been addressed,
we can classify those needs as of basically two types according to the primary location of the victims:
the needs of those who are displaced; and the needs of those who remain in their communities despite
armed conflict. Among the most significant points that may be highlighted are the following:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
Local community organizations can play critical roles in both community-initiated efforts as
well as in coordinating with outside people’s organizations (POs), non-government
organizations (NGOs), local government units (LGUs) and personal contacts from before
displacement, during residents’ time in evacuation centers, and upon their returning to their
communities
While evacuation centers may provide greater safety from fighting, there is the perpetual
lament of poor physical and socioeconomic conditions affecting families’ health and wellbeing. A stressful security situation in and around evacuation centers also greatly adds to
tensions and difficulties.
There is a steep drop in resources for and attention to internally displaced persons (IDPs) once
they return to their home communities and respondents articulated gross insufficiencies across
the wide range of economic, education, health, clothing, shelter, houseware and water needs.
IDPs remain wary about their security in their home communities; at least one organized
group of IDPs tried to reach an agreement with government soldiers to be kept safe from
military abuses but was rebuffed.
There are serious difficulties in making any headway against human rights violators in remote
rural communities where the military in particular seems to operate with impunity.
Children and Women Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs)
Armed conflict can unfortunately result in the large-scale displacement of families for an indeterminate
period of time. We recall that some one million IDPs have been recorded in just the period 2001-2005.
Of the eight areas covered by the study, five had experienced evacuations in the past five years with the
lengths of displacement lasting from some weeks to about five years. It has been seen how the
dislocation of children and women IDPs results in the complete disruption of their routines and deep
losses across the range of their livelihood, education, health, psychosocial well-being, and shelter and
security needs. They are first of all confronted with having to deal with extremely difficult situations in
evacuation sites and then, upon their return to their communities, with the nearly impossible task of
picking up the pieces.
Conventional IDPs
All the mass evacuations were immediately driven by AFP offensive operations. Judging from
respondent accounts, coordination between the military and civilian authorities has been uneven. LGUs
down to the barangay level are seldom appraised of impending military operations. Respondents
claimed this to be the case as well for such relevant agencies as the Department of Social Welfare and
Development (DSWD), Department of Health (DOH), Department of Interior and Local Government
(DILG) and even the Office of Civil Defense (OCD), although the research team could not confirm
this. Some respondents surmised, however, that the practice is due to the military’s desire to have the
the element of surprise on their side.
The worst problems during evacuations occur during the frenzied departures of residents while under
fire, and the difficulties of travelling to evacvuation sites, when family members are sometimes even
separated temporarily. Some residents of conflict areas left their homes with only the clothes on their
backs, leaving everything else behind.
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The existence of traditional social organizations and POs helps establish a level of capacity to address
community crisis situations. These POs usually have direct knowledge of the needs of their
communities, are familiar and trusted, and are thus in a better position to mobilize and coordinate
internal resources to meet immediate challenges. This was apparent in the case of the Surigao del Sur
and Compostela Valley evacuations in which residents themselves systematically worked out the safe
evacuation of the community. The North Cotabato and Maguindanao communities presumably would
have benefited the most from strong local organizations if only because of the scale of resident
displacement. However, they apparently relied more on individual family initiatives – with many
resorting to the decades-old practice of independently dispersing and going to other Muslim
communities where they have relatives – and on the local government.
For respondents the main role of LGUs and line agencies should be resource generation. In Compostela
Valley, local organizations were able to coordinate quickly with LGUs which swiftly and generously
provided resources. The residents said that after two weeks of staying in an evacuation center,they even
brought back with them substantial rice rations. Relief assistance, especially from international aid
agencies and NGOs, was said to be relatively substantial as well in the North Cotabato and
Maguindanao cases. The role of these organizations was also important in highly volatile
circumstances in which neutral organizations were needed to deliver aid.
Some community organizations were able to access a wide range of support from LGUs (e.g.
congressmen, vice-governors, mayors and municipal board members), NGOs (e.g. human rights,
disaster relief and rehabilitation, community organizing), and quasi-NGOs (Red Cross). At least two
local POs cited the importance of outside support to bring their concerns and needs to the attention of
the authorities and relevant government agencies.
North Cotabato respondents volunteered that their most recent evacuations were to some extent a
qualified success because they were given enough advance notice to prepare for it. The Moro areas
have already become accustomed to evacuation and have developed ways to fend for themselves such
as by going to relatives in nearby provinces. Yet for the first time in 2003, say the displaced residents,
the government was able to rapidly provide significant relief assistance soon after the military
offensives started. Some of the former IDPs said they heard about possible AFP offensives first from
mass media – which reported the movement of troops, tanks, artillery and war materiel – and then from
local government officials, human rights organizations, and peace advocacy groups. To some extent
this seems to have helped them prepare psychologically. But it also had a practical side. Some women
in the FGD recalled that the first trucks sent by the LGU arrived to fetch them three days before actual
hostilities ensued and brought them to evacuation centers in various nearby towns. This prompted a
few to favorably comment that, war notwithstanding, the occasion at least saw the first efforts by the
government to organize an evacuation they could remember for being better than than past ones. Some
respondents were grateful that the government social welfare agency and donor institutions had been
on hand to somewhat mitigate the humanitarian costs of the displacement on tens of thousands of
civilians.
Yet in both North Cotabato and Maguindanao there were still many Moro civilians trapped in their
communities as the shooting, air strikes and artillery bombardments ensued. Some respondents averred
that many of them still refused to leave despite warnings of impending danger to their lives because
they could not bear to just leave their homes and land. For others it seemed that the decisive factor was
their distrust of outsiders and the government. There were families that, instead of proceeding towards
the highway and away from where it was announced there would be much fighting, opted to go the
other way to seek shelter deeper into acknowledged MILF territory. It is possible that the orderly and
timely evacuation of civilians would have been further facilitated if there were trusted and prepared
internal community-based organizations already in place instead of families’ being left basically on
their own to decide when and where to evacuate, relying on information relayed by “outsiders”.
The experience of the Surigao del Sur village visited is an IDP situation on a smaller scale but still
provided some insight into the benefits of strong community-based organizations. When the sounds of
shooting came closer, the community organization acted on the basis of their perception of the military
and residents quickly assembled in one area to help ensure their security. The idea was to minimize
abuses against those who remained in far-away isolation in their homes. When the military imposed
strict controls on their movements and on the amounts of food they could bring in, residents pooled
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their limited resources and rationed rice gruel and what few viands they had, particularly prioritizing
children, pregnant women and nursing mothers as the supplies dwindled. The organization also actively
took steps to facilitate the intervention of the LGU and the local church diocese. When they were
eventually forced to evacuate, there was a clear physical and social center where the residents of the
community could get information, continue coordinating efforts, and negotiate for material and
logistical support from the LGU and the diocese.
Temporary evacuation centers for IDPs are usually schools, churches, gymnasiums and other public
structures large enough to accommodate many people. When there is insufficient room, temporary tent
shelters of plastic are built in public spaces such as the grounds of government offices and even the
roadsides. These makeshift structures are invariably made of light and improvised materials that
provide insufficient protection from the elements. On the other hand, those who are placed in buildings
not intended to be lived in immediately have to cope with confined spaces and inadequate ventilation.
Some evacuation centers had been transformed into semi-permanent resettlement areas because the
armed conflict in their home communities had been going on for months and even years.
The situation in these temporary evacuation centers is singularly unhealthy. Evacuees describe them as
unsanitary and unhygienic, extremely overcrowded, exposed to the elements, and grossly lacking in
food, potable water and toilet facilities. Health services are also far from adequate in meeting the needs
of so many people in such unhealthy conditions. The North Cotabato and Maguindanao IDPs recalled
the presence of government health workers in their evacuation centers, but also said that they were just
too few, too overworked and too lacking in medical supplies to service the needs of so many. All these
resulted in malnourishment, sickness and even death especially among the very young and the very old.
Diarrhea and fevers were common, with the crowded conditions also encouraging the spread of
scabies, coughs, colds and other illnesses. The longer the evacuees stayed, the more the conditions
deteriorated.
A hovering military presence can also add to the tensions of already stressful conditions. The Surigao
del Sur evacuees reported that soldiers were stationed around the center they were staying in and
discouraged their entry and exit. They also complained that the military took videos of them despite
their protests.
Although humanitarian assistance can at times be plentiful, it often declines rapidly, and families must
deal with the problem of meeting their needs in the face of diminished livelihoods. Fathers and other
older males are forced to go farther and farther away in search of employment; even mothers and
children are also forced to find paid work.
The respondents nevertheless remembered the various groups that had given them assistance while they
were in the evacuation centers. They were thankful to such international organizations as UNICEF,
OXFAM, MOVIMUNDO, DARUEFTA, CFSI, Accion Contra El Hambre, and the European Union
Commission. On the local front they named the Philippine Red Cross, GMA Kapuso Foundation, Balay
Kalipay, Archdiocese of Tandag and a number of disaster, relief and rehabilitation, human rights,
health, and peasant- and indigenous people-focused NGOs.
If life in evacuation centers is difficult, so is returning to their communities. Most returning evacuees
are haunted by feelings of uncertainty regarding their security because of continuing military presence.
But even when back in their communities, the evacuees still must face the harsh consequences of
military confrontations. Especially in the Central Mindanao areas, the returning IDPs confront badly
depleted economic resources with the usual community support networks also undermined inasmuch as
all are in the same precarious situation. In the Muslim areas where the most severe fighting has taken
place, entire communities are barely able to make any headway in recovering from their losses in
crops, farm implements, farm tools, farm animals and store inventories. They frequently face mounting
debts and are hampered by debilitating sicknesses. It is common for former IDPs to spend less on
everything including such essentials as food and schooling. What remaining assets they have are soon
depleted as they are gradually sold for much-needed cash.
Some respondents complained about the aid-constructed shelters (“rehab”) replacing their homes as
too small and uncomfortable. Others said they were among those who did not get even that. The
physical aftermath of war and abandonment is immediately jarring, said respondents: the ruins of their
homes, the burned stumps of once-productive coconut trees, and the overgrowth of weeds and plants in
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their farm lands. There was even one account of a farmer seriously injured in September 2005 when he
accidentally detonated a leftover military landmine while clearing a grassy area by the mosque.
The research team also found that one of the most crucial periods for intervention is during the postevacuation stage when displaced communities are beginning to rebuild. This is most difficult in
prolonged cases of displacement where the community is damaged both physically and
psychologically. The cycle of wars in the Central Mindanao areas has not just destroyed much of the
economic infrastructure in the areas of conflict, it is also straining to the breaking point the social ties
that bind people together as members of a community. Indeed, some accounts indicate that among the
unintended consequences of sudden and large infusions of well-meaning humanitarian and
rehabilitation aid are the stoking of differences within the community, the fostering of individualism
and, in effect, the undermining of existing community structures while exacerbating existing frictions
between families and individuals.
The usual opportunists preying on the desperation of a people who had lost almost everything were
also in evidence. Maguindanao FGD participants, for instance, mentioned the various pyramiding
scams targetting the already desperate poor, which falsely promised quick pay-offs in exchange for
“membership fees”.
“Invisibly” displaced
The phenomenon of pockets of families displaced member-by-member or family-by-family over a
relatively extended period of time as a result of threats due to counter-insurgency operations deserves
special mention. These are not nearly as visible as the large-scale displacements in the well-publicized
war zones of Central Mindanao, but the humanitarian consequences, when added up across the entire
country, are arguably comparable. In just one area visited by the research team in Leyte province, it
was estimated that some 200-250 individuals had left contiguous barangays to move to the National
Capital Region (NCR) over the second semester of 2005. This estimate did not include those who had
moved elsewhere in the Visayas or to the nearby Bicol region.
The ordeal of these “invisibly” displaced is somewhat different from the more conventional IDPs. To
begin with, they had gone through the harrowing experience of being intentionally targeted by the
military – or at least the perception that they were being intentionally targeted – for being supporters of
the NPA or for having family members who are with the NPA. They may be leaders of the local POs
the military has labeled “Communist fronts”, parents or children of NPA fighters, or otherwise reputed
to be active NPA supporters. But they may not even be any of these, and have merely been arbitrarily
tagged as one or the other. Thus there is already mounting trauma from threats, harassment and
violence even before the actual displacement itself.
When beleaguered families finally make the decision to evacuate, their peculiar circumstances may
militate against accessing external support from mainstream sources. Their cases can be seen as too
“political” for government welfare agencies. Perhaps because they move as a steady trickle rather than
as a massive cataract of evacuees, their plight is not dramatic enough for the usual humanitarian
donors. Meanwhile human rights groups that may be sympathetic tend not to have the resources or
experience for any sort of sustained relief or rehabilitation work. The tendency of such evacuees to be
dispersed also makes any organized or centralized effort to assist them a costly affair. There may also
be security considerations insofar as close family members may really be associated with or are
actually with the NPA, in addition to their being suspected of themselves being NPA “fronts.”
These evacuees’ return to their communities can also be hard to determine. It is not just an end to
fighting that they need but also an end to the perceived military threat to them. Moreover, even if they
brave a return to their homes, the threat to their security and welfare may last as long as counterinsurgency operations continue in their area.
Children and Women in Their Communities
The research team found that the main sources of armed conflict-related problems for those who
remain in their villages is ongoing fighting nearby and continuing military operations. Children and
women have had to deal with the immediate effects of these realities, and, for some, their aftermath.
The research team was able to observe firsthand the experiences of community residents as they tried
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to address the needs of their wives and children during armed conflict situations. In areas where the
communities are not physically displaced but nevertheless experience disruptions due to the military
presence, the internal strengths of the community as well as external support are the key components in
determining the degree and level of protection of women and children.
The various ways in which children and women have tried to continue normal schooling, domestic
work, production and recreational routines during armed conflict-related incidents in their communities
have already been discussed in earlier chapters. While the needs and related problems have been
identified, the communities – including children and women – have mobilized themselves as well as
resources from within and without the community. These positive experiences of empowerment are
evident, and indicate what people often stereotyped as passive “victims” are actually capable of.
Victims of war
Direct victims of rights violations and abuses are burdened many times over. Like their neighbors in
their communities they have had to suffer disruptions due to military operations in their villages. Yet
on top of this they are also at risk of becoming direct victims of physical, mental and emotional abuse
in the course of counter-insurgency operations.
The research team interviewed national and province-based human rights workers, church workers,
social workers, and local government officials (mayors and barangay captains) regarding the services
available for addressing the needs of civilians “invisibly” victimized in the course of counterinsurgency operations. These services cover three basic areas of need: securing the liberty and safety of
victims; welfare support and assistance; and achieving justice for what they experienced.
The incidents encountered by the research team occurred in remote rural villages far from mainstream
national political and economic life. When an incident affecting one or many children and women
happens, the first reaction is to tap communities’ long-accustomed social capital: family and neighbors
are mobilized to help the victim or victims. This rapid response is possible, quicker and more effective
if there is already a system of community organizations in place, whether indigenous socio-political
systems or more recently-organized community groups.
The research team observed some changes through the decades in how communities deal with
situations of armed conflict. In the 1970s and 1980s, for instance, the indigenous tribes of Surigao del
Sur instinctively fled in fear of armed external aggressors and fighting and hid in forest caves. Men,
women and children endured exposure to the elements and going without food. Today, however, those
children are now adults and have accumulated many years of organizational experience in their local
community groups. In contrast to the situation of decades past they are more able to coordinate their
responses and to assert themselves and their rights vis-à-vis armed groups and local government. The
community, through its PO, is in a better position to fight for the safety and security of all its members.
If as is often the case, the community is unable to completely deal with the emerging problem, they
establish contact with other groups beyond their locality. These may be church groups (Protestant,
Aglipayan or Roman Catholic), peasant POs, NGOs, or local party-list group chapters. The churches,
with their long geographic reach and local parishes, have been particularly important in linking up with
outside support groups. These groups provide or facilitate humanitarian support and conduct factfinding missions. The usual process is for the victim (if available), families, friends and representatives
of organizations involved (if any) to immediately convene to assess the situation and come up with a
concrete response. Mass media outlets such as local radio and newspapers have also been helpful in
bringing issues to public attention.
Respondents in more than one area emphasized their need for “moral support” in terms of making their
situation known to people outside their communities. This would help give them comfort, courage and
confidence. Despite advances in establishing networks with outside support groups, there was a sense
of isolation because of the absence of groups to which they can air their grievances about rights
violations and abuses. At the same time, many lamented the indifference or inaction of those they
normally would have relied on such as local government officials. The desire for “moral support” may
also be interpreted as an appeal for justice and retribution. The communities know their rights have
been violated and they want redress.
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Direct contact between villagers and outsiders is critical. It seems that many victims have allowed
incidents to pass without complaint for want of reliable and trustworthy allies. The difficulties of
progressive organizations which are under apparent attack especially in the provinces becomes
immediately relevant. These (often Left-leaning) groups have historically been the spearhead of human
rights advocacy in the Philippines and their diminishing presence means diminishing support for
human rights victims.
Meta-legal efforts are apparently preferred if immediate action is needed – such as the release of an
alleged guerrilla or NPA sympathizer – to avoid lengthy and sometimes expensive legal processes.
However it emerged that there is another particularity that discourages legal action: the difficulty of
going up against the military in remote and heavily- militarized areas. Respondents say that
overwhelming military presence and power undermines whatyever courses of action may be legally
available.
In any court case, for instance, it is extremely difficult to find witnesses willing and able to testify
against the military out of fear of reprisals against them or their families when they return to their farflung villages. There have been victims who have tried to formalize complaints but who have been
subjected to threats or harassment by government soldiers even after just the initial step of having the
incident recorded in police blotters. There is also the difficulty for poor subsistence peasants, already
struggling to eke out a living, of finding the time for protracted legal processes happening mainly in
distant urban centers – time whose opportunity cost is incomes and livelihoods.
The net result is that a community’s return to “normalcy” is impeded, and the main factor militating
against this return to normalcy – indiscriminate counter-insurgency operations – persists. In this regard
the apparent nationwide increase in threats on even urban-based advocacy, organizing and human
rights groups as well as Left-leaning political parties is especially alarming. These threats imply that
the communities’ internal social capital as well as their external networks are being simultaneously
undermined. This can only mean even worse adverse effects on the well-being of women and children.
Local government officials have in some instances provided food, clothing and shelter support
although the research team itself did not come across any case of a mayor or governor, for example,
actively helping victims in the pursuit of justice. A human rights lawyer in Eastern Visayas noted how
some previously approachable officials have in recent years become cold even to requests for merely
“charitable” help for affected peasants out of fear of being tagged by the military in their area as
supporting the NPA. This was occurring in the wake of a sustained campaign in Samar and Leyte that
indiscriminately tagged various leftist organizations and political parties as “Communist fronts” and
“NPA supporters” or “NPA recruiters”.
Most local police officials are also apparently unwilling or otherwise unable to seriously help in
pursuing or investigating cases. A church worker in Mindoro Oriental pointed out that the general
apprehension of residents is such that police blotters are conspicuously devoid of entries regarding
human rights violations despite their great number in her area of responsibility.
Local Committee on Human Rights (CHR) offices apparently have an uneven reputation, supposedly
depending on whether and how far its officials and staff have a human rights advocacy orientation or
not. Some local CHR offices were said by respondents to rely mainly on media reports or on already
existing documentation from human rights and other organizations. The national CHR office on the
other hand was positively cited for being active and taking the effort to conduct its own investigations.
On this basis it has for instance already come out with a statement “[detesting] these inhuman practice
of summary execution committed against our helpless brothers especially those who belong to Bayan
Muna, Anakpawis, Gabriela and other allied organizations.”1 Also relevant for the current study is its
observation that, “Sadly, the reported offenders belong to [the ranks of the PNP (Philippine National
Police), the DND (Department of National Defense) and the AFP (Armed Forces of the Philippines)]”
and how “investigations have been closed for monitoring due to various reasons such as, but not
limited to, its consequent filing in court and lack of information due to refusal of witnesses and family
members to shed light and furnish details on the incident for fear of their own lives, some have even
gone to the extent of transferring residence in order to avoid whatever repercussions the incident may
cause them.”2
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Exposure in local and national print and broadcast media was also said to help in restraining military
abuses although, as with other potential actors, this has also tended to depend on the courage and
willingness of media personalities to antagonize local military officials. As it is, the National Union of
Journalists (NUJP) in the Philippines has already reported that 45 journalists have been killed for workrelated reasons in the period 2001 to June 2006. This phenomenon has earned the country the
reputation of being the most dangerous country in the world for journalists next only to Iraq, and is
presumably a basis for journalists who would otherwise be critical to be intimidated.
It is striking to note from the respondents’ responses that it is the very acknowledgement, tacit or
otherwise, of military involvement that precisely militates against any action being taken against those
allegedly responsible for abuses. Soldiers are very intimidating in these remote barangays that are far
from centers of civilian governance and mass media attention. The end result of this sum of
circumstances is that military units and any abusive soldiers can act with impunity – there is no
historical experience or precedent of any legal or court action being taken against state forces for
human rights violations. External actors such as NGOs, human rights groups, and church-based
organizations can provide important support for beleaguered communities and can bridge this gap
through quick, if dangerous, advocacy work.
A final important dimension to the reality of militarized communities is the desire and right of
victimized children and women, as well as the rest of the community, to seek justice and redress. There
appears to be much room for the improvement of state mechanisms in this regard.
Endnotes
Commission on Human Rights (CHR), “On the killings of members of Bayan Muna, Anakpawis, Gabriella (sic) and
other allied organizations”, Quezon City, July 8, 2005.
1
2
Ibid.
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CHAPTER 8.
Conclusion and Recommendations
The effect of armed conflict on children and women is conventionally understood in terms of casualties
from hostilities and the large numbers of persons internally displaced. This research affirms the already
well-understood humanitarian consequences of displacement, poor conditions in evacuation centers,
and difficult rehabilitation in communities returned to. There is also the specialized and controversial
matter of child soldiers. This study found evidence to conclude that archetypes from other countries’
experiences such as of forced recruitment of children are inapplicable to the practice of the major
armed groups in the country.
The study found, and calls attention to, the need to give greater prominence and priority to the
“invisible” but nevertheless real categories of armed conflict-related victims. These are: 1) the steady
trickle of evacuees fleeing perceived or actual threats to them in their communities; and 2) the civilian
victims of counter-insurgency operations. These other categories will gain greater importance to the
extent that state forces intensify their “low-intensity conflict” approach against guerrillas, whether
Communist or Moro, according to current military doctrines. This study began exploring these underresearched aspects of the impact of armed conflict on affected Philippine communities.
In many respects, the basic situation of children and women in armed conflict areas is little different
from the essential situation of Filipino children and women in other backward upland rural areas across
the country. They have limited livelihood opportunities as well as limited education and health
services. In itself this underscores how vital it is to address the problems that confront the country’s
tens of millions of destitute children and women. But their poor situations are further compounded by
the effects of the various armed conflicts being fought in the country.
Children and women have been victimized as IDPs and even calculatedly targeted as rebel supporters
in the course of military operations. These deserve critical attention not just because of the large
numbers involved but because they cut to the heart of the matter of what kind of victims there are in the
sort of wars being waged in the country. State forces seem to have greater accountability than the other
armed groups in that threats and actual harm to civilians seem to be a defining feature of counterinsurgency operations.
The study also calls attention to certain premises on the ground that would be useful to take into
consideration in whatever effort is designed at whatever level. Many communities already have
organized groups of peasants, women and children. These tend to have links with urban-based NGOs
and other POs. At the local level these go farthest in breaking communities out of a victimhood mold
and provide the organizational infrastructure for civil society to build interventions on.
It also appears that there are significant populations of communities, if not effectively entire
communities, that go beyond merely grudging or tacit political service support for armed rebel groups.
Indeed, the existence of a shared reality by rebel combatants and civilians – and the apparent
partisanship of the latter for the former – is acknowledged by current military doctrine. Absent a more
rigorous elaboration, assertion and defense of the status of civilians from the government, the military
has looked at non-combatants sympathetic to rebel groups as fair game during counter-insurgency
operations. The legitimacy of this view is of course questionable at best.
On the matter of child combatants, it appears that children by and large voluntarily wish to join the
armed groups of the NPA and MILF (although the study had less opportunity to probe in the case of the
latter). It is also noteworthy that the CPP-NPA-NDFP and the MILF-BIAF have official policies and
procedures dissuading minors from joining as combatants that, even given the exceptions explicitly
allowed in the case of the MILF, seem to have substantial degrees of implementation. Communities
also apparently have some influence over the process. These can be the basis for forming a practical
framework for continued advocacy on age-limit requirements. The study proposes the following
general and specific recommendations.
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General Recommendations
The findings of the research team on the concrete conditions of children and women in the rural
communities affected by armed conflict suggest approximately three clusters of needs and hence of
interventions. These clusters constitute an underlying framework for the specific recommendations for
stakeholders that will follow.
First, the most basic, widespread and long-standing needs are those affecting the entire civilian
population and that result from the general situation of poverty, the backwardness of state social and
welfare systems, and the weakness of governance. These cut across all the people in the study areas.
Second, there are the pressing needs of children and women displaced either by evacuation en masse
due to the eruption of intensive and sustained combat; or by individualized family evacuation due to
prolonged and systematic threats and/or attacks against their families.
Third, there are the needs of children and women in these communities who are generally affected by:
the situation of conflict; the presence of armed groups; and the counter-insurgency operations of
government soldiers with their concomitant civilian population control measures.
Focus objective #1: Alleviate overall poverty, backwardness and weak governance. The
persistence of armed conflicts in the country appears intractable because they are responses to
larger social and historical factors. These factors are manifestations of the deep poverty in the
Philippine countryside where the overwhelming concern of the rural population is basic
subsistence and survival. They are ultimately what underpin armed conflict, and are most of all
what have adverse effects on women and children. These imply a larger preventive framework that
must be appreciated at a strategic level.
An overall strategy of genuinely developmental effort in the affected communities would have a
two-fold beneficial impact: 1) it would address the poverty and underdevelopment that are the
roots of armed conflict; and 2) it would undermine the primary reason for being of the two major
armed groups insofar as their struggles express legitimate grievances. The concrete improvements
in people’s lives will ultimately redound to a reduction or elimination of armed conflict and all its
adverse effects. In terms of governance, there is a general need to promote children’s and women’s
rights and to strengthen adherence to human rights and international humanitarian law.
General thrusts around this focus objective can include the following:
1.
2.
3.
4.
Conduct wide- ranging development projects at provincial and regional levels for poverty
reduction as well as increase access of the poor to social and economic services (especially
education, health and livelihood opportunities).
Support peace-building initiatives that address the roots of armed conflicts and eschew
militarist solutions to the insurgency that only intensify adverse effects on children and
women.
o Community respondents have in places also called for a resumption of the stalled GRPNDFP peace talks, and for the GRP-MILF talks to be brought to a meaningful and
generally acceptable conclusion.
Increase awareness and appreciation of children’s and women’s rights through education,
training programs and advocacy as well as ensure that these are reflected at the political,
policy and operational levels.
Improve the respect and observance of human rights and international humanitarian law –
recently finding specific expression in the Philippine context in the CARHRIHL – and of
declared age requirements for full-time fighters.
However, it is not only the deep systemic and structural problems that need to be addressed. There are
proximate problems that can be immediately dealt with. The following are both urgent and doable:
Focus objective #2: Improve relief efforts and ensure greater support for rehabilitation. The
most critical areas are the conflict-affected upland communities which can be among the country’s
most socially and economically vulnerable. However, emergency service delivery to cases of
short- or longer-term displacement only partially responds to immediate needs and is frequently
127
inadequate in various respects. These efforts can be improved to more effectively mitigate the
impact on children and women. Ensuring real participation by children and women through
people’s organizations is vital towards greater empowerment and developmental effectiveness.
•
To improve relief efforts:
1. Study the extent of “invisible” IDPs and their patterns of out-migration and support so as
to better target them for support system interventions.
2. Improve basic health and sanitary conditions in evacuation centers.
3. Improve livelihood opportunities to improve the economic base of families’ well-being.
4. Distance armed groups from evacuation centers to lessen tensions and stress in already
stressful situations.
•
To improve rehabilitation efforts:
1. Increase the resources available for development rehabilitation with priority for
supporting the return of children to school, for addressing children’s most pressing
psychosocial and medical needs, and for recovering families’ lost economic capital.
2. Address the demoralization of both children and adults from due to protracted
experiences of displacement, loss and armed conflict.
3. Expedite and prioritize the safe return of evacuees to lessen the protracted humanitarian
load and to channel these towards more sustainable development assistance; coordination
among stakeholders can be the basis for more effective negotiations with government
military forces.
4. More quickly mobilize resources towards addressing the most critical and urgent
economic losses in the communities (farm implements, inputs and animals).
Focus objective #3: Address the deliberate or otherwise reckless endangerment of civilians
and civilian communities, especially children and women, during counter-insurgency
operations. Children and women who remain in their communities face pressing problems from
the effects of small-scale fighting, during military pursuit operations, and for being perceived as
supporting the NPA or MILF. Even if their communities may not be areas of chronic hostilities
and fighting, there is nonetheless a continuing emergency: perceived civilian support systems of
the NPA have been targeted apparently as part of a general effort to undermine and weaken “the
enemy”; and combatants have apparently been targeted through the children and women closest to
them.
It is important to normalize livelihoods as well as education and health services that are disrupted,
but it is also critical to protect children and women and ensure their well-being and protection from
attacks. There is a particular need to address the apparent impunity of human rights violators.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
Improve the monitoring, reporting and verification of violations of children’s and women’s
rights in situations of armed conflict. Special attention must be given to determining the
degree, intensity and pattern of violations.
Raise the level of public discourse on the issues of human rights and international
humanitarian law.
Promote accountability by condemning perpetrators of crimes against children and women
and holding them accountable for their actions.
Advocate more explicit prohibitions against equating civilians and communities with armed
rebel groups. Specifically:
o Stop the targeting and harassment of civilians apparently aimed at undermining the NPA
and MILF political infrastructure.
o Stop the targeting of families of suspected NPA and MILF fighters.
o Stop civilian population control measures.
Provide additional protection and access to services to communities affected by armed conflict
especially rapid medical and legal services to victims.
Specific Recommendations
128
The three aforementioned focus objectives can be particularized for the various relevant stakeholders:
UNICEF, the national government and its relevant line agencies, local governments, NGOs and other
institutional responders, communities, the AFP, the CPP-NPA-NDFP and the MILF-BIAF.
To begin with, the following can be considered as specific recommendations applying to all the
stakeholders:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
To build, strengthen, and encourage community organizations as mechanisms for
communities to assert themselves and as critical infrastructure for any and all development
interventions for the community in response to armed conflict-related problems.
To improve coordination among all the stakeholders in terms of evacuation situations,
evacuation centers, rehabilitation, individualized displacements, and in promoting the welfare
of children and women.
To develop operational links of community organizations with the widest possible range of
outside POs, NGOs, LGUs, academe, media and even private individuals to reduce
communities’ isolation and provide support mechanisms that can be mobilized in times of
distress.
To conduct and support advocacy, education and information dissemination on human rights
and international humanitarian law, especially regarding:
o The special status accorded civilians and non-combatants amidst armed conflict.
o The lack of justification for any and all kinds of violations of the right to life, liberty and
security of persons.
To support agreements, mechanisms, venues, monitoring and other efforts that give
momentum to or encourage state forces and the armed groups to comply with agreed
standards of human rights and international humanitarian law.
o In particular, support the creation and/or projects of child- and women-focused
community organizations in the key developmental area of child rights protection.
To initiate and encourage a multi-sector and multi-stakeholder process of consultation –
particularly involving members of the Philippine Congress – towards drafting and passing
legislation that addresses the specific issues and needs of children and women affected by
armed conflict.
There are also particular recommendations for specific stakeholders.
1.
For UNICEF:
•
•
•
•
To support programs of disaster, relief and rehabilitation, health and human rights NGOs
able to address the specialized needs of children and women affected by counterinsurgency – e.g., individualized displacements, human rights violations. These can
include:
Participatory relief and rehabilitation projects, especially but not only:
i. Psychosocial services for affected children and women;
ii. Women-focused livelihood support;
iii. Transient housing; and
iv. School reintegration programs considering the particular circumstances
and limitations of IDP children.
Legal defense funds covering the range of litigation-related expenses.
To support efforts aimed at improving monitoring and documentation of the effects of
armed conflict on children and women, especially in the worst-affected remote rural
communities.
To support the building and consolidation of community children and women
organizations, including their linking with counterpart provincial, regional and national
formations. These can include:
Organizing roundtable discussions and forums with stakeholders.
Providing material support for community organizations.
Organizing international information exchanges.
To conduct and support advocacy and information dissemination that directly bear on:
Child rights protection.
129
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
2.
Acceptable standards of age requirements for combatants that positively build on
current levels of accomplishment by the armed groups and community awareness.
To serve as a channel by which affected women and children can get their experiences
across to the most critical stakeholders as well as to the broader public.
To initiate, encourage and facilitate various processes that promote and protect the rights
of children and women affected by armed conflict, such as:
Multi-stakeholder dialogues or conferences on their situation and needs.
Legislative consultations, drafting and lobbying.
Incorporating human rights, children’s rights and women’s rights (in general and in
situations of armed conflict) in the materials of the Department of Education
(DepED) school system.
To initiate deeper studies and field research on the following towards improving the
design of interventions and as tools for advocacy and fund-raising:
The effects of counter-insurgency on civilians, children and women.
The individual and organizational capacities of children and women (so that
interventions build on, support and reinforce these).
To support the drawing up and implementation of bilateral agreements between the
Philippine government and the armed groups, as relevant, that can contribute to the
promotion and protection of the rights of children and women amidst armed conflict.
To coordinate with the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD),
Department of Health (DOH), Department of Interior and Local Government (DILG) and
Office of Civil Defense (OCD) to develop relief and rehabilitation programs specifically
focused on armed-conflict-related displacement and trauma of children and women.
To conduct a program/projects development study for upland communities in
coordination with the armed groups and within the framework of continuing peace talks
between the Philippine government and the CPP-NPA-NDFP and the MILF-BIAF,
respectively.
To advocate for peace talks as the most effective means to a just and lasting peace in the
communities. This may include facilitating peace dialogues or conferences between and
amongst various sectors in the Philippine government, civil society, academe and the
business community that focus on the issues and needs of children in the context of the
on-going armed conflicts. Coordination may be initiated beginning with the Office of the
Presidential Assistant on the Peace Process (OPAPP).
To consider the creation of a special rapid response desk for children and women affected
by armed conflict.
For the national government and its relevant line agencies:
•
•
•
•
•
•
To implement agricultural production and livelihood support programs/projects for
upland communities. Important agencies involved include the Department of Agriculture
(DA), Department of Agrarian Reform (DAR), Department of Environment and Natural
Resources (DENR) and the National Anti-Poverty Commission (NAPC).
To develop child- and women-specific health and education programs in conflict-affected
areas.
To promote children’s and women’s rights through appropriate training programs and
awareness-raising activities among relevant line agencies (DSWD, DOH, DILG, OCD)
and local government personnel. Special attention may be given to corresponding
activities with the AFP including particularly field-level officers, enlisted and nonenlisted personnel. The OPAPP may be responsible for coordinating these efforts.
To improve coordination with local government, NGOs and other institutional
responders, and community organizations.
To explore formulating conflict-related indicators within the framework of aiming to
achieve UN Millennium Development Goals (MDGs).
To assert civilian supremacy by:
Ensuring that all economic, development, social and welfare programs are not
subordinated to military counter-insurgency objectives.
Vocal and credible condemnation of militarist methods and actions that violate
human rights and international humanitarian law.
130
•
•
•
3.
To review current counter-insurgency doctrines for their conformity with internationallyaccepted standards of human rights and international humanitarian law.
Specific attention should be given to clearly differentiating combatants from noncombatants with a view to protecting the security of civilians, especially children and
women.
To operationalize the GRP-NDFP Joint Monitoring Committee (JMC) as a standing
venue for resolving mutual complaints of violations of human rights and international
humanitarian law.
To pursue peace talks as the most effective means to a just and lasting peace in the
communities.
For local government:
•
•
•
•
•
•
To develop child- and women-specific health and education programs in conflict-affected
areas.
To be strengthened through increased allocations of development funds for grassroots
projects, especially LGUs in upland communities.
To improve coordination with national government line agencies, NGOs and other
institutional responders, and community organizations.
To take steps to prevent the intentional or reckless depletion and destruction of economic
capital in evacuated communities.
To assert civilian supremacy over the military.
To formulate, enact and enforce local laws protecting human rights and implementing
international humanitarian law.
.
4.
For NGOs and other institutional responders:
•
•
•
5.
For communities:
•
•
•
•
6.
To give special and increased attention to programs and projects supporting the
empowerment and participation of children and women in conflict-affected areas.
To take efforts to help remote rural communities overcome their isolation from civilian
governance and the mass media, such as by:
Bridging this gap through quick and responsive advocacy work.
Directly intervening in armed conflict situations where civilians are adversely
affected.
To advocate for peace talks as the most effective means to a just and lasting peace in the
communities.
To continue building, strengthening and consolidating community children’s and
women’s organizations as important venues for their growth, coping, survival and
development.
To link their community organizations with counterpart provincial, regional and national
formations.
To conduct advocacy and information dissemination within the community on:
Human rights and international humanitarian law.
Acceptable standards of age requirements for combatants.
To advocate for peace talks as the most effective means to a just and lasting peace in their
communities.
For the armed groups (AFP, CPP-NPA-NDFP, MILF-BIAF):
•
•
To continue, deepen and affirm adherence to accepted standards of human rights and
international humanitarian law by sustained explicit declarations and by corresponding
formulation or reformulation of official policies as necessary.
To initiate or otherwise continue with field-level dissemination and advocacy of the
United Nations’ principles of human rights, agreements on human rights and international
humanitarian law as well as the Philippine-specific CARHRIHL.
To ensure that all internal education and training materials conform to these.
131
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
Particularly for the CPP-NPA-NDFP, to continue with its community-based
information drive on this despite the overall status of the peace talks with the
Philippine government.
To ensure that there are functioning mechanisms for seeking and giving redress in
instances of rights violations and abuses of civilians.
To accord the appropriate respect and consideration to any and all community leaders,
groups, organizations and members.
To refrain from camping or otherwise basing in communities’ schools, day care centers
and health facilities.
To refrain from intentionally or recklessly depleting and destroying economic capital in
evacuated communities.
Especially during the outbreak of hostilities, to establish more open communication lines
with LGUs, NGOs and other institutional responders to better coordinate the safe
evacuation of civilians.
To modify, as appropriate, established military doctrines to more explicitly conform to
internationally accepted standards of human rights and international humanitarian law,
especially regarding the special status accorded civilians and non-combatants amidst
armed conflict.
To support or otherwise pursue peace talks as the most effective means to a just and
lasting peace in the communities.
Particularly for the CPP-NPA-NDFP and MILF-BIAF, to conduct a program/projects
development study for upland communities in coordination with UNICEF within the
framework of continuing their respective peace talks with the Philippine government.
132
PART II
The Research Areas
133
The Philippines is a country marked by high levels of poverty and severe inequality. The National
Statistical Coordination Board (NSCB) reported official poverty incidence in 2003 at 30.0 percent of
the population, using a per capita poverty threshold of P33.72 (about US$0.65) per person per day
(equivalent to P12,309 or about US$236 per person per year).1 Alternative estimates using higher
poverty thresholds or self-rated income poverty measures however rate poverty incidence at between
67 percent to over 80 percent.2 The Family Income and Expenditure Survey (FIES) of 2003 also found
that the top 20 percent of families account for 53.3 percent of total family income, as opposed to the
bottom 60 percent who divide just 25.7 percent of total family income between them; as it is, the total
income of the top 10 percent of families is twenty-one times that of the bottom 10 percent of families.3
Unemployment rates in the 2001-2005 period – at an average annual rate of 11.4 percent – were the
highest sustained rates recorded in the country’s history.4
Table 7: Basic Demographic Data of Research Area Provinces
Population
Area
Land Area (sq.
kilometers)
Number of
municipalities
Number of
barangays
Individuals
(2005) *
Families
(2000)
85,261,000
227,100
15,072,000
300,000
1,501
41,982
39,452
4,000
27
543
779,300
132,229
4,365
14
426
719,500
1,764,000
131,121
2,633
16
473
300,680
5,713
41
1,641
Surigao del Sur
549,300
97,346
4,552
18
309
Compostela Valley
641,500
266,299**
4,667
11
235
Philippines
Abra
Mindoro Oriental
Capiz
Leyte
North Cotabato
1,075,000
191,892
6,570
17
543
Maguindanao
1,057,700
145,985
4,900
28
481
Notes: * 2000 Census-based 2005 projections
** Statistics for Compostela Valley (declared a province in 2001) are not available and Davao del Norte figures are used as
proxy statistics.
Source: National Statistics Office
The provinces in which the research areas are located are scattered nationwide across the Luzon,
Visayas and Mindanao islands. In terms of poverty incidence among the population, they are likewise
scattered widely across the scale of provincial poverty incidence. Based on the final results of the FIES
2003, out of a total of eighty (80) provinces nationwide: Maguindanao is the country’s second (2nd)
poorest province, Surigao del Sur the sixth (6th) poorest, Abra the eighteenth (18th) poorest, Mindoro
Oriental the twenty-seventh (27th) poorest, Leyte the thirty-third (33rd) poorest, Compostela Valley the
thirty-fifth (35th) poorest, North Cotabato the fifty-fourth (54th) poorest, and Capiz the sixtieth (60th)
poorest.5 (See Table 8) Annual per capita incomes ranged from P14,198 (Maguindanao) to P29,045
(Capiz), compared to the national average of P27,442.
Table 8: Poverty and Subsistence Incidence in Research Area Provinces
Area
Philippines
Annual per capita
income ( in P)
Poverty Incidence (in %)
Subsistence Incidence (in %)
Population
Families
Population
Families
2003
2003
2003
2003
2003
27,442
30.4
24.4
13.8
10.2
134
Abra
28,329
50.2
Mindoro Oriental
19,626
44.3
Capiz
29,045
29.2
Leyte
19,119
42.3
Surigao del Sur
17,076
57.1
Compostela
41.9
Valley
North Cotabato
22,142
32.1
Maguindanao
14,198
68.1
Sources: National Statistical Coordination Board, 2006
41.0
37.0
21.6
34.6
48.6
22.4
20.5
9.4
21.1
32.1
16.5
15.3
6.3
15.7
24.6
34.4
26.9
21.2
26.1
60.4
13.0
38.4
9.4
30.0
In the Philippine Human Development Report of 2005 (PHDR 2005) of the Human Development
Network (HDN), the provinces’ rankings according to the Human Development Index (HDI), out of
seventy-seven (77) provinces listed, are: Maguindao ranks seventy-six (76), Surigao del Sur ranks
sixty-five (65), Mindoro Oriental ranks fifty-two (52), Leyte ranks fifty-one (51), North Cotabato ranks
thirty (30), Capiz ranks twenty-three (23) and Abra ranks twenty-two (22); there is no listing for
Compostela Valley.6 (See Table 9) Also according to the PHDR 2005, life expectancy at birth in the
research provinces ranges from 52.0 years (Maguindanao) to 63.2 years (Abra), compared to the
national average of 69.8 years. The percentage of high scool graduates among those 18 and above in
turn varied from 28.9 percent (Maguindanao) to 49.5 percent (Abra), against the national average of
52.1 percent. Finally, the combined primary and high school enrolment rate ranged from 81.2 percent
(Maguindanao) to 93.3 percent (Mindoro Oriental), compared to the national average of 90.6 percent.
Table 9: Human Development Index (HDI) and Ranking of Research Area Provinces
Human Development Index (HDI)
HDI Rank
2000
2003
2000
2003
Philippines
0.704
0.721
77
85
Abra
0.614
0.6
31
22
Mindoro Oriental
0.535
0.521
29
52
Capiz
0.549
0.598
53
23
Leyte
0.565
0.523
30
51
Surigao del Sur
0.525
0.487
58
65
Compostela Valley*
0.524*
0.564*
43*
31*
North Cotabato
0.548
0.566
51
30
Maguindanao
0.431
0.36
75
76
* Statistics for Compostela Valley (declared a province in 2001) are not available and Davao del Norte figures are used as proxy
statistics.
Source: 2005 Human Development Report
Area
The research areas also exhibited much variation in various measures of education and health, both
according to enabling indicators and actual outcomes. (See Tables 10 and 11) Indeed the only apparent
trend is how Maguindanao province consistently rates at or near the bottom of the range of measures
cited, and is a distinct outlier even in those cases where the other provinces exhibit comparable levels.
These provincial results are largely consistent with the results of field data-gathering. For instance,
none of the communities visited had a functioning health center and all have had to rely on traditional
community healers and the infrequent and irregular visits of barangay health workers (BHWs) and
midwives. Anecdotally, government immunization and vaccination programs have been very visible in
all the areas, while reproductive care and pre-natal care for women have been scarce.
The provinces in which the various research areas are found are of markedly different status according
to these basic socioeconomic indicators, albeit sharing the common experience of being sites of longrunning armed conflicts involving the New People’s Army (NPA) or the Moro Islamic Liberation Front
(MILF) – or indeed of both as in the case of North Cotabato. In itself this already suggests that any
interventions aimed at addressing the needs of women and children affected by armed conflict are not
necessarily best concentrated in just the country’s poorest and most backward provinces. This view is
supported by a finding in the PHDR 2005. Comparing poverty incidence and the frequency of armed
135
conflict across provinces, it was determined that there was no direct relationship between the two – i.e.
that the poorest provinces are not necessarily those with the most incidents of armed conflict .7 Indeed,
the current study found that much of the adverse effects of armed conflict are essentially unrelated to
shooting incidents per se and have more to do with the nature of counter-insurgency operations against
guerrillas.
Armed conflict areas in general are certainly poor and register absolute levels of backwardness along
various social indicators: poverty, subsistence, health, education and utilities. While the Philippines is a
poor country overall, there are areas poorer and richer than armed conflict areas which do not have
corresponding armed groups. The direction and nature of causality is by no means unambiguous. What
is clear is that poverty and underdevelopment in the country are long-standing, pre-dating even the
current armed conflicts running nearly four decades so far, which indicates deep structural or systemic
problems. The following area profiles provide two things: a richer account of the effects of armed
conflict on children and women; and insights into why militarist solutions to the country’s internal wars
will likely worsen the situation of children and, in the end, will likely prove futile in resolving the
country’s raging social crisis.
136
Table 10: Education Indicators in Research Area Provinces
Area
Children of school age who are in school
(% of families)
Primary and Secondary
Enrolment Rate (%)
% of HS grad (18
years old and
above)
Functional Literacy
13-16 yrs in
2002
2003
high school
(2002)
Philippines
91.2
77.0
90.6
52.1
Abra
93.7
82.8
91.9
49.5
Mindoro Oriental
95.7
84.9
93.3
40.1
Capiz
93.0
77.5
91.4
41.0
Leyte
93.4
71.0
88.7
37.5
Surigao del Sur
89.7
71.0
90.4
41.3
Compostela Valley*
89.4
69.96
90.1
41.1
North Cotabato
91.6
77.8
92.8
41.3
Maguindanao
85.8
62.4
81.2
28.9
* Statistics for Compostela Valley (declared a province in 2001) are not available and Davao del Norte figures are used as proxy statistics.
Sources: 2002 Annual Poverty Indicators Survey, 2002 and 2005 Human Development Report
6-12 yrs in elementary
(2002)
2000
83.8
90.1
91.5
76.5
79.5
82.4
85.5
72.8
68.7
Table11: Health and Electricity Indicators in Research Area Provinces
Area
With Access to
Health Facility (% of
families)
With Sanitary
Toilet, (% of
families)
Access to Safe Water
Supply (% of families)
Life expectancy at
birth (years)
Underweight children
under age five (%)
2002
2003
2002
2002
2002
69.8
Philippines
38.3
72.8
82.7
4.6
63.2
Abra
28.8
80.8
98.8
8.5
65.8
Mindoro Oriental
61.6
89.2
94.9
5.1
65.3
Capiz
53.4
73.0
44.7
6.8
68.9
Leyte
36.0
83.8
80.4
7.6
63.7
Surigao del Sur
41.5
83.9
86.4
9.2
Compostela Valley*
40.7
96.7
67.5
66.1
4.3
69.6
North Cotabato
38.5
79.8
72.7
8.1
52.0
Maguindanao
30.1
60.3
52.8
6.4
* Statistics for Compostela Valley (declared a province in 2001) are not available and Davao del Norte figures are used as proxy statistics.
Source: 2002 Annual Poverty Indicators Survey, NSCB Statistical Indicators on Philippine Development 2004, 2005 Philippine Human Development Report
With electricity, (% of
families)
2002
79.0
74.4
59.0
58.6
67.7
72.4
65.9
63.5
60.8
137
The Affected Communities
The following area profiles give additional information on the eight (8) communities visited and draw
heavily on the direct accounts of residents during the FGDs, life stories and key informant interviews.
They are firsthand and collective testimonies on the concrete conditions in each of the communities, on
the effect of armed conflict on them, and on their personal and common aspirations.
The sizes of the towns visited varied greatly, with land areas varying from some 180 to nearly 700
square kilometers, and the number of barangays ranging from just 10 to almost 60. The towns’
populations as of the 2000 Census ranged from around 5,000 to 69,000 people.
The Maeng tribe community in Abra has had a CPP-NPA-NDFP presence since the late 1970s, with
military operations in subsequent decades being conducted by division-size units. A few years of
“relative quiet” were broken in 2005 by military pursuit operations of the NPA that culminated in two
weeks of continuous bombings in an unpopulated mountain range adjacent to the village.
Villagers of the Mindoro Oriental community visited recalled a high profile CPP-NPA-NDFP activity
in the area in 2001. The Mangyan residents said that military operations greatly intensified after this
and, accused of being supporters of the NPA, they were subjected to widespread abuses, threats and
harassment in the months that followed. Local leaders were killed and the local organizations the
community had painstakingly built over the years all but withered away.
The Tumandok of the Capiz research area have a long history of struggling to assert their rights over
their ancestral land which is in the heart of what they say is the country’s largest military reservation.
At the same time the local community organizations are active in small-scale health and socioeconomic
projects. They said government troops have long been hostile to them but that things became even
worse after a large NPA ambush in the next town which resulted in many military casualties. After this,
they said, “they [the government forces] revealed their true colors, and worse.”
The first armed encounters in the tri-boundary research area in Leyte happened some three-and-a-half
decades ago. Equally memorable for many residents is the rapid growth of the rural and urban mass
movement in the 1980s that is the foundation for many of their people’s organizations today. The last
three years, however, have witnessed the apparent extra-judicial killings of leaders and activists,
especially of the party-list group Bayan Muna, which the military claims is a CPP “front organization”.
Civilians in the community have been beaten, threatened and harassed by the military, forcing
hundreds to flee for their lives – not through the stereotypical mass evacuation, but one-by-one and
family-by-family over a six-month period.
The Manobo of the Surigao del Sur research area narrate many generations of government neglect and
lowlander exploitation of their community’s forest and mineral resources. On the other hand, they say
they appreciated the NPA’s respect for their lumad culture and their encouragement of ever more active
community life. In 2005 the children and adults said that “metal birds” arrived amidst shooting and
explosions, that they were herded into the village school during military operations, that they were
treated as if they were NPA themselves, and that when they evacuated it was to the miserable
conditions of an evacuation center.
The first encounter with the NPA of the research site village in Compostela Valley was in the 1970s
and military operations there reached a point in 1975 when the area was declared “No-Man’s Land”.
By 2003, residents could still claim that their village was peaceful even if still very poor. Things
changed for the worse with an outbreak of fighting that resulted in the evacuation of hundreds of
families for two weeks.
The Moro people of the barrio visited in North Cotabato said that war visits them every three years. It
most recently arrived in 2003 when government forces launched a military operation and overran the
MILF’s headquarters in the Buliok Complex. Some 45,000 residents evacuated amidst aerial
bombardments, shelling and shooting. They were able to return to their homes only after a year. They
said that the military is not just after the MILF but also the Liguasan Marsh’s rich natural resources.
The barrio visited in Maguindanao is considered part of the MILF’s Rajamudah Camp and has seen
fighting between the AFP and the MILF since 1973. When war broke out most recently in 2000 with
138
the government effort to seize the MILF’s central headquarters of Camp Abu Bakr in Matanog,
Maguindanao, some 60,000 residents evacuated even as their homes and crops were being destroyed.
They lived in the dismal conditions of evacuation centers for the next five years and pined for their
quieter, happier and more peaceful lives before the war. Although they have recently returned to their
homes, the return of these lives still eludes them.
139
ABRA
Abra is an inland province bounded by the provinces of Ilocos Norte and Mountain Province on the
north, Ilocos Sur in the south, Ilocos Norte and Ilocos Sur in the west, and Mountain Province, Kalinga,
and Apayao in the east. It has a total land area of approximately 397,555 hectares, and is composed of
27 municipalities and 304 barangays.
The study focused on Barangay Aayagan, a settlement near the base of a mountain, facing north. The
residential area visited by the research team is divided into four clusters (or purok) the largest of which
has some two dozen homes. The people of Aayagan belong to the Maeng tribe, an ethnolinguistic
group. Some of the residents have Kankanaey roots because they come from the Municipalities of
Sagada and Banaw, Mountain Province. The people speak the Maeng dialect but they can also
communicate in Ilocano and Kankanaey.
The community’s main source of livelihood is farming. The most common agricutural produce in the
area includes rice, corn, tobacco, fruits, and vegetables. Families have either a rice field kaingin (slashand-burn farm) or an uma (terraced upland farm). While a few families own many or large parcels of
land, most families work small plots or as farm hands for other landed peasants. Because of this setup,
alluyon or cooperative farming is largely practiced in the area. Cash surpluses from their crops are rare
with each family’s agricultural produce going mainly to their subsistence.
In the few times that the women of Aayagan are able to sell vegetables, they say that their earnings are
still inadequate to purchase basic items such as soap and cooking oil. Residents frequently hunt for
food and when a wild boar is caught in the forest its meat is distributed to the families. Selling honey
collected from the forest is a primary source of cash for some families. Others raise livestock,
particularly chickens and pigs, to be sold for added income.
The participation of all villagers in community-related development work is a must. The villagers have
developed a support system characterized by voluntary communal labor undertaken to assist members
of the community in need of it. This is done through binnobong (household representation), or through
binnotantes where all the villagers aged 18 and above participate in a community project. In
constructing a house, for instance, each household contributes free labor for a certain number of days.
The villagers also help in gathering construction materials such as lumber and rattan. For families
lacking in resources to procure materials that are not produced in the community, the village has a
system of choosing which family will be given cash with which to purchase the needed materials. Each
year, around one to three families benefit from this indigenous cooperative system.
The community visited was able to set up formal people’s organizations as early as 1982 and 1983.
Management of community projects was once assigned to the Aayagan Farmers Association (AFA)
which for various reasons however has been dormant since 1996. The women of the community took it
upon themselves to found the Makmak Association to take over the tasks of AFA. The Makmak
Association soon became a member organization of the Cordillera region-wide federation of militant
women’s organizations. They rose to the challenge of revitalizing the projects previously neglected by
the AFA. They initiated the practice of alluyon or cooperative farming to augment the earnings of
farmers in their community and many of its projects have been successful. All the officers of the
association are women even as their husbands and other menfolk have already been recruited as
members.
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Table 12: Monitored Armed Confrontations Between The New People's Army and Government Forces - Abra Province
KILLED
DATE
Incidents
2001
-
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
-
-
WOUNDED
CIVILIAN
-
CAPTURED
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
-
-
-
-
-
-
CIVILIAN
2002
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
2003
1
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
2004
3
1
3
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
2005
3
2
2
10
141
The Community
While there is a formal unit of government in Aayagan as represented by barangay officials, the locals
still retain the traditional socio-political institution known as dap-ay. This body is composed of the
heads of all households, but it is the lallakay or council of elders made up of respected elderly men in
the community who facilitate discussions regarding collective public concerns in a dap-ay or
community meeting. The dap-ay is also a venue for settling conflicts among community members.
Because of its influence and power as a tribal institution, the decisions of the dap-ay typically outweigh
the resolutions ratified by barangay officials. Indeed, local government officials must get the approval
of the dap-ay before they can perform their duties as local government authorities. The views and
opinions of the lallakay are held in high esteem by the people and this is evident in the way they abide
by the mandate of the lallakay.
The Aayagan Primary School, established in the 1960s, offers day care and grades one to four. Since it
is only a three-classroom facility the day care class occupies one room while the other rooms are shared
by grades one to two and grades three to four, respectively. The average number of students in each
class is 18-20. The villagers said there is no shortage of books and chairs in the school. Children who
are able to continue to higher grade levels have to enroll in other schools however, the nearest being the
elementary school in Barangay Latipan which is an hour’s walk from Aayagan.
For those who can afford to go on to high school there are two secondary schools to choose from: one
in Dawdawisan, some three to four hours away by foot, and another in Bab-asig, Mountain Province
which is a good seven-hour hike from their homes. Since it is impractical for high school students to
return to Aayagan every day after classes they remain in the vicinity of their schools for the duration of
the school week, lodging with relatives or working as household help for other families in exchange for
lodging. Participants in the FGDs estimate that only 80 percent (80%) of the school-age population
actually attend school. The remaining 20 percent (20%) help their families in subsistence farming,
work as farm hands in others’ fields, or earn their keep as babysitters.
The most common ailments of the locals are fever, cough, colds and asthma. Due to the absence of
potable water, diarrhea becomes common during the rainy months of June to September. Among the
women of the community, goiter has become a typical condition due to iodine deficiencies in their diet.
Other reported health problems among adults are ulcers, anemia, and arthritis. Sadly, both children and
adults can die from common illnesses. Although the community has a few health workers there is no
functioning health center in Aayagan.
The nearest health center is in Dawdawisan which can be up to a four-hour walk away. The two most
accessible hospitals from this area are in Tabung, Mountain Province (a day’s hike away) and in
Quirino, Ilocos Sur (a four-hour walk to find a jeepney that will then travel another four hours). A
midwife from Dawdawisan sometimes visits the community to immunize infants and children, and to
sell medicines. Due to insufficient health services and the virtual inaccessibility of doctors, locals resort
to herbal medicine to relieve their health problems. Locals say that members of the NPA have been
teaching them the medicinal uses of various plants since the 1980s. They also claim that, aside from
rendering basic dental services such as tooth extraction, the NPA has also taught them useful
therapeutic alternatives such as acupuncture and acupressure. Cordillera Health Services (CHS), an
urban-based NGO with community health projects as core activities, has also conducted health
seminars in the community, the most recent being a series in 2005.
Memories of a massacre
Militarization in the research area started in the late 1970s or early 1980s with AFP deployments in that
part of the province even reaching division-size in the mid-1980s. The village visited at one point
apparently even had a platoon-sized military detachment right in the middle of it. Armed encounters
broke out sporadically throughout the late 1980s until the early 1990s, most of which were said to be
outside the village center, except for an NPA raid on the detachment itself. These encounters recurred
in 2003. The NPA command currently operating in the area is known as the Agustin Begnalin
Command.
The June 2005 bombings were not the first time that the residents of Aayagan experienced aggression
on the part of the military. Most parents in the community said that it reminded them of an incident
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they now refer to as the 1983 Banaw Massacre. A barangay official who was suspected to be an NPA
supporter suffered a blow to his head and was shot to death by army soldiers; his wife and their sixyear-old daughter were also killed. Their bodies were burned along with some houses in the
community. Fear and chaos drove the families to evacuate to the mountains. At least nine children died
of a measles outbreak following the military operations because of poor sanitary conditions and the
absence of medical attention. A desperate lack of resources even drove some residents to take
advantage of their neighbors by stealing from them. When the military had gone, most of the residents
were dismayed to find irreparable damage to their crops when they returned, and for a time felt
discouraged from going back to work in the fields.
In 1992, less than a decade after the Banaw massacre, a two-month military operation led by a certain
Lt. Guerrero took place in the area and resulted in a string of military abuses. In 1994, a military
detachment was set up in the area to allegedly safeguard the community from NPA who might steal
from them. For four months, recall respondents, soldiers underpaid for supplies, took their vegetables
and chickens, and insisted on bathing in their homes.
In 2001, military operations took place in the nearby barangays of Latipan, Dawdawisan and Ilyan.
Since then, there has been, on average, one military operation in the area every month, with each
lasting about a week or so. In 2003, an NPA fighter and a civilian were killed by the military in
Barangay Latipan. The family of the civilian was also threatened and harassed by army soldiers who
insisted that they were all members of the NPA. The community’s collective memory of the 1983
massacre is particularly striking – although it happened in the increasingly distant past, the traumatic
event is still a reference point and the behavior of state forces to this day is seen as further proof that
they have not changed.
Simple Joys and Gentle Sorrows
A focused group discussion (FGD) was conducted among 19 children from Barangay Aayagan. The
activity aimed to get the children to talk about their experiences related to armed conflict. The
participants were all from peasant families and their ages ranged from 12-18 years old. They were at
various stages of primary and secondary education but the community trend seems to be that most of
them will stop schooling before or upon graduating from high school. The most common reasons for
this are financial difficulties, the absence of tertiary schools in the area, and early marriage.
The children were asked to recount some of their happy experiences before the most recent incident of
armed conflict between the military and the NPA took place. It turned out that the children were easily
pleased by the simplest things: a family trip to Baguio City, celebrating a birthday, having a small
amount of money saved up, being awarded school honors, simply being able to go to school, having a
picnic with friends, spending time with the family, celebrating Christmas and New Year. Some recalled
unique experiences like attending the wedding of two NPA fighters in their forest camp, and being
invited to celebrate the founding anniversary of the NPA.
On the other hand, the children recalled some sad moments: being away from their families while
attending school in a faraway place, failing exams and getting low grades in school, having no money
or school supplies, being scolded by parents, not being able to celebrate a birthday. Despite their tender
sorrows, the children were comfortable in their usual routines: studying, working in the fields, helping
with household chores, playing with other kids. Before the 2005 bombings, the children said they had
peace of mind and had no difficulty concentrating on school work. According to them, they felt free to
roam the nearby forests and play by the river, and they could also work in the farms until evening.
Frightened and Angry
In June 2005, a strong military presence in the area was to the community a sign that all was not well.
According to the residents of Aayagan, the military sees the tri-boundary of Abra, Mountain Province
and Ilocos as a rebel stronghold: “In their view, the tri-boundary is a bastion of the NPA.” (Pagtingin
nila, kuta ng NPA ang tri-boundary) As for the immediate cause of military operations, children like
Erwin, 13, overheard a soldier saying that NPA fighters had earlier raided the camp of an army unit in
Barangay Ilyan in the adjacent town of Tad-ao (also in Abra), and seized dozens of firearms. They said
that the military was humiliated and bent on striking back at the NPA to recover the weapons they had
lost and to eliminate the group. Yet one of the participants in the children’s FGD, Lira, 16, observed
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that in trying to retaliate, the military only suffered greater losses: “The bombing took place because
the soldiers wanted to kill the NPA in order to get back the weapons that the comrades took from
them… but they were unsuccessful because more soldiers died.” (Nangyari po ang pagbobombang
iyon dahil gusto ng mga sundalo na patayin ang mga NPA para mabawi ang mga armas na nakuha ng
mga kakadua… pero sila ay bigo dahil mas marami sa mga sundalo ang namatay.)
The air strikes and mortar fire were concentrated in the forests of three small mountains where the
military suspected the NPA had retreated. The only direct damage that respondents could recall were to
one rice field and a granary, and the death of one carabao. A barangay councilor shared that she
remembered children running scared into their homes or under trees whenever they heard the sound of
military airplanes or helicopters.
Though most of the children recalled that the bombings took place around the first and second week of
June, 16-year-old Daisy says the fighting must have lasted for a month in the nearby barangays of
Kibungan and Bangao. Tessie, 12, was at home when she saw helicopters dropping bombs on the
mountainside and firing machine guns. Mia, 15, said the bombing frightened her and made her restless:
“I was always praying together with my family but I couldn’t calm my nerves so I stood by the trail
with my friends.” (Palagi kaming nananalangin kasama ko ang aking [pamilya] subalit di ko
malabanan ang pagtibok ng aking dibdib kaya sa daan ako nakatayo kasama ko ang aking mga
kaibigan.) Mia missed school for a month. Jess, 17, related that at the height of the siege, he was
worried that his family’s carabao might be terrified by the explosions, or worse, get hit by the bombs.
Sheryl, 16, said that after the incident, they couldn’t catch any fish from the Sabangan River and they
blamed the blasts for disturbing the ecology. Lira added that the army soldiers passing by their
barangay recklessly trampled on her aunt’s rice crops: “The fields were ravaged and army soldiers
burned down Lolo (grandfather) Padi’s hut which they mistook for NPA property.” (Nasira ang bukid
at sinunog pa [ng militar] ang kubo ni Lolo Padi na akala nila ay pag-aari ng mga NPA). Because the
families could not attend to their farms for almost two weeks, their crops were eaten by field rats and
birds. Since reaping the palay grains was delayed the harvested rice grains were burnt and hardened.
Gina, 14, remembered that she was most concerned about the situation of NPA fighters dodging the
bombs deep in the forest. “The soldiers also said that they killed a lot of NPA but there was no truth to
this” (Isa pa sa sinasabi ng mga sundalo na marami daw silang pinatay [na NPA] pero walang
katotohanan ang lahat ng sinabi nila), she added, openly doubting the military’s claims. Once, Gina
had a chance to talk to some soldiers: “I told them that so much money was going to waste [because of
the military operations], but they said that even if they spent millions, the important thing was to wipe
out their enemy, the NPA.” (Sinabi ko sa kanila na sayang ang malaking perang tinatapon nila [dahil
sa operasyon] pero sabi nila, kahit na milyon milyon ang mawala, ang mahalaga ay mapatay nila
lahat ng mga kaaway na NPA.) Like Gina, parents in the community also perceived that government
funds are misappropriated by the military for its counter-insurgency operations: “We are tax-paying
people who are dismayed with the government because we expect these to come back to us in the form
of services… but the government uses the funds to buy bombs and pay soldiers who terrorize us.”
(Nadismaya kaming mga mamamayang nagbabayad ng buwis dahil umaasa kaming ibabalik sa amin
ito sa pamamagitan ng serbisyo pero…ibinuhos [ng gobyerno] ang pondo sa pagbili ng bomba at
pagbayad sa mga sundalong nagteterrorize sa amin.) While Gina had the courage to confront the
soldiers about using government resources in such destructive operations, Gerry, 14, avoided facing
them if he could help it. “I made myself elusive to soldiers staying at the dap-ay because they would
order us to look for banana plant blossoms.” (Naging mailap ako sa mga sundalong nag-base sa dapay [kasi] pinapahanap nila kami ng puso ng saging.)
While the parents of the community shared their children’s fears, they are most afraid over what the
future may bring, given the red tag on Aayagan: “The people of the community are troubled because
this place has been marked as a war zone.” (Nangangamba ang mga mamamayan dahil markado na
ang komunidad bilang lugar ng gera.) Other children were obviously affected by the armed conflict in
different ways. Rhoda, 14, said she no longer felt like playing, and didn’t have the urge to study her
lessons. Sixteen-year-old Edre was anxious about going hungry because farm production had been
disrupted. Beng, who just turned 18, was afraid of the soldiers and did not go out of the house by
herself anymore. Her parents also forbade her from wandering far from their house so the whole family
can evacuate at a moment’s notice if needed. Mina, 16, found the atmosphere in school unfavorable
with the helicopters and the sounds of fighting drowning out their teacher’s voice.
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Daisy’s family felt forced to let some soldiers stay in their home. Some young girls recalled being
offended by malicious comments made by soldiers. Some young boys also reported inappropriate
behavior on the part of the soldiers such as showing pornographic video clips on their cellphones.
When one of the boys, Edre, was asked what he felt when he saw these he says, “It felt good. We were
laughing with the soldiers. The soldiers said that’s what they do with their girlfriends.” (Masarap.
Tawa kami ng tawa kasi tumatawa din sila. Ganoon daw ang ginagawa nila sa mga nobya nila.)
Changes
After the most recent bombing incident, barangay officials issued safe conduct passes to residents of
the community as a means of identification during random searches by the military. A curfew was also
imposed on the community that prevented residents from working in their farms in the evenings. To
lessen the risk of being accosted by the military for interrogation, families often went to work in the
fields in groups. The use of a flashlight at night was also prohibited. Because of restricted mobility in
their own fields, farm production was delayed and families resorted to borrowing money in order to
survive.
While most locals blamed the military for the problems they face, some also blamed the NPA..
According to one parent during the FGD, “The soldiers set up a detachment within the community.
They did not respect the rules of war. As for the NPA, they did not make sure that no civilian would be
hurt during their raid in Ilyan.” (Nagtayo ng detachment ang mga sundalo sa loob ng komunidad. Hindi
nila sinunod ang mga kasunduan at batas ng digma. Ang kamalian naman ng NPA ay hindi nila tiniyak
na walang sibilyan na madadamay sa raid nila sa Ilyan) Another believed that armed conflict is
inevitable because one group is trying to impose its ideology on the other, and vice-versa (nagpipilitan
ng paninindigan), and both groups are uncompromising. However, locals said that at least NPA
fighters are approachable and open to dialogue, unlike the military: “We have dialogues with the NPA.
We are able to tell them to stay away from our village. But no decent discussion is possible when it
comes to the military.” (Nakakausap namin ang NPA. Napagsasabihan namin sila na umiwas dito sa
loob ng barrio. Pero ang mga sundalo hindi namin sila makausap nang matino.)
Immediately after the incident, many community residents say they suffered from temporary deafness
due to the intensity of the explosions. Seventeen-year-old Neil suffered more serious physical and
psychological consequences and was shocked upon witnessing the bombings at close range. According
to his younger brother, “He wouldn’t eat, he just lay down. He didn’t go to school for a month. He
couldn’t sleep. He remembers [the bombings] up to now.” (Hindi siya kumakain, nakahiga lang. Hindi
nakapasok sa eskwela ng isang buwan. Hindi rin makatulog. Hanggang ngayon naaalala niya.) Neil’s
aunt relates that soldiers gave him some medicines but because he showed no signs of recovery, his
family decided to perform a traditional ritual to summon back his spirit which they believed had
deserted him. The ritual involved cutting the head of a live chicken. Neil’s health improved soon after
but he became irritable, stubborn and oftentimes appeared to be distracted. Three months after the
bombings, he is reportedly also remote, absent-minded and moody. His childhood friends pity him, but
they can’t help but resent the changes in Neil either.
Most recently in September, military soldiers returned to the barangays for operations against the NPA.
Among the differences respondents noted from years past is how soldiers would go out of their way to
approach children and youth (dinidikitan ang kabataan) and discourage them from joining
organizations. Apparently trying to establish a rapport, the soldiers also said that they are townmates or
provincemates of the villagers (kababayan) but that they lived and grew up elsewhere.
The respondents said that when they learn about a military presence in their barangays, school
authorities have to decide if they will continue with classes. Life in general is difficult for the children
and their most fundamental needs have yet to be met. They need school supplies, better social services,
and basic utilities such as electricity and potable water. They can only hope for added employment
opportunities to help their families prosper. Some of the children dream of joining the NPA, and plan to
support the group in whatever way they can while waiting for the right time to take up arms.
According to one parent, “When the NPA comes by our place, we feed them. Whatever we have, we
share it with them because we feel safe with them and we trust them.” (Kung dumadating ang NPA dito
sa baryo, pinapakain namin sila. Kahit anong pwedeng ibigay, binibigay namin dahil mas magaan ang
kaisipan at kalooban namin sa kanila.) The locals noticed that the children and youth are friendly to
145
the NPA even as they know that the NPA does not recruit minors: “Because of the NPA’s stern
discipline, children aspiring to join them are returned to their families.” (Mahigpit ang disiplina nila
kaya binabalik nila ang mga bata). They for instance recalled the case of two girls, natives of Licuan,
who were denied membership by the group since they were still underaged. Still and all, one mother
was of the opinion that their children should not join either the military or NPA because of the
attendant risks. Another parent admitted, “If for instance my son joins the NPA, I will be extremely
anxious. I will lose sleep thinking of him because we all know that the NPA is fighting a war. What
about my son’s future?” (Kung halimbawa yung anak ko ay sumampa, matinding pangamba ang
dadanasin ko. Baka hindi ako makatulog sa pag-iisip sa kanya dahil alam nating ang NPA ay
nakikidigma. Paano na ang hinaharap ng anak ko?)
Meanwhile, some parents appreciated the fact that their children join community organizations and
have become politicized. One parent says, “I observe that organized youth are aware of so many
things.” (Ang pagtingin ko sa mga organisadong bata at kabataan, marami silang alam.) Another says,
“Those who are organized are united, but those who are not wallow in individualism and their own
personal interests. If one is organized, one constantly scrutinizes and studies events and experiences.”
([Kapag] organisado ay nagkakaisa at [kung] hindi organisado, naghahari ang indibidwalismo at
personal na interes. Ang organisado, tuloy-tuloy ang panunuri at pag-aaral sa mga bagay at
pangyayari.)
Sheryl: Working, waiting
Sixteen-year-old Sheryl is the eldest of seven children. She stopped attending school after her first year
in high school so she could earn some money and help her parents provide for her other siblings. Sheryl
eventually found work earning P1,500 (about US$29) a month as a babysitter in the nearest town
center. During the June 2005 military operations in Aayagan, anxious about the safety of her family,
Sheryl decided to quit her job and go home.
She recalled the day a handful of military men harassed her. She was on her way home from the store
when five soldiers grabbed her by her clothes and interrogated her, at times pointing a gun at her
stomach. They asked her if she wanted to join the NPA, if she had a boyfriend, and if she knew anyone
who was an NPA fighter. Sheryl trembled in fear, but could not ascertain the names of the men who
accosted her because they either did not have fatigue jackets or else these had no visible identification
patches.
Shortly after that incident, Sheryl found work once more as a babysitter for the child of an elementary
school teacher in Barangay Latipan. Since the teacher was from the town, she and her baby stayed at
the barangay hall whenever she had teaching duties in the local school. According to Sheryl, whenever
the teacher’s baby would cry, soldiers stationed near the barangay hall would throw stones at the
building. Sheryl says that at first she thought that the soldiers were doing it to scare her for fun, until
she found out that the husband of the teacher she was working for was suspected by the soldiers of
being with the NPA. When the soldiers confronted the teacher about their suspicions about her
husband, she became too frightened to continue teaching and asked to be re-assigned to another school.
Sheryl still manages to help her parents financially by working as a farmhand, for which she earns P5080 (about US$1-1.54) a day.
Sheryl admitted that she has wanted to join the NPA since she was in the fifth grade. She said she has
always admired the NPA for helping their community with farm production, and for teaching them
about their rights. Sheryl hopes to be able to go back to school while waiting to turn 18 when she can
join. Though her parents do not approve of her plans, her cousins support her decision and even tell her
that she might be the one able to do something about their father (Sheryl’s uncle). According to Sheryl,
this uncle of hers is a paramilitary, and his children hate him because of his philandering and neglect of
his family.
Edre: Countryside dilemmas
Sixteen-year-old Edre, born and raised in Aayagan, is the son of two farmers and the second child in a
brood of four. After finishing Grade 4 at the Aayagan Primary School, Edre stopped schooling to help
his parents with farming. They plant rice twice a year, and are able to harvest 10 sacks of rice every
146
July and December. His elder brother tends a plot that produces sweet potatoes, cabbage and other
vegetables.
Edre vividly recalled the arrival of two fighter planes and two helicopters of the AFP in their barangay,
signaling the onset of the June 2005 bombings. He said some tracts of land cultivated by families from
their community were damaged by the bombings. He also claimed to have witnessed soldiers firing
their machine guns at locals who were collecting honey in the forest. He said that even as a mere
bystander, having experienced such violence gave him much pain (masakit sa damdamin).
Edre also recounted that a military commanding officer, whom he named, summoned a barangay
official to round up a group of young men to carry five cavans of rice (a cavan, or sack, weighs some
50 kilos) and some boxes of sardines to the military unit operating in the barangay. He was one of 10
young men chosen for this task. Some parents said that their sons secretly refuse to do favors for the
army soldiers, but they indulge them nonetheless to diffuse suspicions that they are NPA supporters.
They are particularly afraid of being accused by the soldiers of being NPA informants and of being
subsequently harassed or attacked. Hand-held radio units of the LGU, their only means of
communication with the outside world, were even confiscated by the military allegedly because these
were used to inform the NPA of the military’s movements in the area. Nonetheless, Edre didn’t mind
the strenuous work because he said it is part of his community’s culture to help whoever is in need,
even if it happens to be the military who are out to kill the NPA whom Edre considers his friends.
Edre said that compared to the military, NPA fighters are more disciplined and responsible: “They
don’t womanize and they help us with farming.” (Hindi sila babaero at tumutulong sila sa gawain
namin sa bukid.) He asserted that the NPA are on the side of the poor: “They defend the poor.”
(Ipinaglalaban nila ang mga mahihirap.) He affirms what other children have said about the guerrillas’
character: they help improve agricultural production, they care for the sick and give them free
medicines, and they educate the locals about the dangers of mining. Edre, however, seemed to have
accepted the fact that the soldiers are bent on eliminating the NPA so that the military can control the
community and allow foreign mining companies to freely operate in the area (Para maghari [ang
militar] at maipasok ang mina.) An elderly community member echoed Edre’s views when he said:
“The NPA’s armed struggle is the ultimate and highest form of resistance to protect our mountains
from deforestation.” ([Ang armadong pakikibaka ng NPA] ay ang pinakahuli at pinakamataas na
porma ng paglaban para maprotektahan ang mga bundok na kinakalbo.)
When asked what his future plans were, Edre frankly admitted that he wanted to be a member of the
NPA as soon as he turns 20. He very well knows that his choices are equally difficult: “It’s not easy to
be a farmer, and it’s not easy to be an NPA either.” (Mahirap maging magsasaka at mahirap din
maging NPA.) But he is determined to join “to add to those who struggle, and to add to those who fight
for the poor.” (Para madagdagan ang nakikibaka, [at] para dumami ang lumalaban para sa
mahihirap.)
Delia: Empowered woman
Delia is a 59-year-old peasant mother with seven children. She has experienced the effects of armed
conflict several times in her life. It is not unusual for her to welcome NPA fighters into her home when
they happen to be in the community conducting mass work. It is also not uncommon for her to
encounter military men while she goes about her daily tasks.
Once Delia was on her way to the farm to clear it for planting when she came across some soldiers.
They informed her that there was an ongoing encounter with the NPA nearby. She had anticipated that
this would happen especially after the NPA-led raid on a military detachment in Tad-ao. However
Delia didn’t hear any gunshots or explosions so she wasn’t aware of the current hostilities.
Nevertheless, the military soldiers warned her not to tell the NPA about their presence in Aayagan and
they said, according to Delia: “We’re just passing through. Don’t tell the [NPA] that we passed this
way.” (Daraan muna kami, ha. Pero huwag ninyong sasabihin sa mga kadua diyan; Huwag ninyong
sasabihin na dumaan kami.) She recalled, “I was so scared then, but because they talked to me in a nice
way, my fear went away.” (Takot na takot ako noon, pero dahil mabuti naman ang pakikipag-usap nila
sa akin, parang [nawala] ang takot ko.) A few days later, soldiers came down from the mountains
carrying several wounded soldiers whom they laid out in stretchers right outside her house. After
147
evacuating the injured among them, the soldiers returned to Aayagan and sought shelter in Delia’s
house. It was then that she heard their claims of having successfully overrun an NPA camp.
The soldiers told Delia that they knew that the NPA frequented their community. Delia didn’t deny this
and said, “Oh, they say good things.” (Ay, mabuti ang sinasabi nila.) She said that she went on to tell
the soldiers what she saw to be the difference between the military and the NPA: on the one hand,
soldiers are paid to do what they do which is wipe out insurgents; on the other hand, the NPA does its
work based on principles that give emphasis on what is in the interest of the majority. “They say that
you soldiers [are in conflict with the NPA] because somebody controls you. You are at war with them
because that’s how you make a living. [The NPAs], as we can see, live in the forest and [have taken up
arms] to defend the majority. For where does the NPA come from? The people. The soldiers also come
from the people. If only you, our soldier sons, could understand them you would fight by their side for
what they want us to struggle for… because what they’re fighting for is in the interest of everyone, and
not just for themselves.” (Sinasabi nila kayong mga sundalo, nakikipaglaban kayo…dahil mayroong
kumokontrol sa inyo. [Ang gawain niyo ay lumaban] dahil sa ang inyong ipinaglalaban ay
pinagsuswelduhan ninyo. Sila, nakikita naman natin…tumitira sa gubat, lumalaban dahil sa
ipinagtatanggol nila ang nakararami. Dahil ano nga ba ang pinagmumulan ng NPA? Umili. Ang
pinagmumulan ng sundalo, umili… Kung kayo sanang mga anak naming sundalo ay
makipagkaintindihan sa kanila, magtulungan kayong makipaglaban sa gusto nilang ilaban natin...
Dahil itong ipinaglalaban nila ay para sa lahat, hindi lang para sa kanila.)
Delia said that the soldiers seemed receptive to what she was saying so she seized the opportunity to
confront them about their abuse of power: “And you, there are things you do which we don’t like about
what soldiers do. You say you are the army of the people, in defense of the people, guaranteeing the
welfare of the people. But if you look at the soldiers, when they come across civilians on the road or in
the forest, they threaten them, and even kill them!” (At kayo, [may hindi kami gusto sa] gawain ng mga
sundalo. Samantalang sinasabi ninyo na kayo ay mga sundalo ng umili na makikipaglaban para sa
umili, magtitiyak sa kabutihan ng umili. Pero kapag titingnan mo ang mga sundalo, kapag may
nakakasalubong sila sa daan o sa gubat, tinatakot nila, o pinapatay nila!) To which she said the
soldiers only responded: “Oh no, nanay (mother)! We are not forces from Abra, we are forces from
Ilocos Sur!” (Ay, hindi, nanay! Hindi kami pwersa ng Abra, pwersa kami ng Ilocos Sur!) Delia also
recalled them saying, “On our part, nanay (mother), if the residents of the community are good to us,
we will also treat them well.” (Kami, nanay, kung mabuti ang [pakikitungo] sa amin ng madadatnan
naming barrio, mabuti rin ang gagawin namin.) However, she said that she still inwardly doubted their
sincerity: “They seemed kind because they were staying in the village. But we really don’t know if
they’ll act the same way when we encounter them elsewhere.” (Parang mababait sila dahil nasa loob
sila ng barrio. Pero…ang hindi natin alam, [kapag] masasalubong sila, [kung] totoo kayang ganoon
ang ugali nila.)
Delia’s attitude to the military was formed when she witnessed the atrocities they committed in 1983 in
their community of Aayagan that she said she would never forget. At that time there was a military
operation being conducted in nearby Barangay Ilyan. One day, some soldiers arrived in Aayagan at
dawn and seized Delia’s neighbor, a barangay councilor, and bound his hands and feet. They also
strafed the house of Rosario who, like the councilor, was believed by the military to be an NPA
supporter. Her child was shot. As the pregnant Rosario carried her injured son out, the soldiers set fire
to her house. Delia says Rosario’s neighbors saw how she was killed by the soldiers. “She was sitting
down, holding her son. That’s when the soldiers hit her on the head. She was sprawled on the ground
and lost her grip on her son… While she was out cold, the soldiers showed no mercy. They knew she
was pregnant yet they trampled on her body.” (Hinawakan niya ang anak niya, [nakaupo]. Doon na
siya pinalo sa ulo. Doon siya napahandusay. Nabitawan niya ang anak… At noong nakahandusay na,
wala silang awa. Alam nilang buntis, doon nila pinagaapakan.) Rosario and her child did not survive.
The cruelty did not end there. The soldiers also threatened the rest of the community residents, saying,
“Let’s burn the houses of these people. Let’s burn their homes because these are the ones who feed the
NPA!” (Sunugin na natin ang mga bahay ng umili, sunugin na natin, dahil sila ang nagpapakain ng
NPA!) Delia, who already had five children at that time couldn’t help but cry and begged the soldiers
not to do it. She told them, “What did we do to you that you want to burn down our houses? Please
show pity, don’t set fire to them. Don’t you feel sorry for us that you want to set our houses on fire?
Where will we live?” (Anong kasalanan namin, at susunugin ninyo ang aming mga bahay?... Parang
awa ninyo, huwag ninyong sisindihan ‘yan. Hindi ba kayo naaawa sa [amin at] sisindihan niyo pa ang
148
mga bahay namin? Saan kami titira?) A soldier threatened her into silence, “‘Shut up! Do you want me
to blow your head off?’ he said.” (“Tumahimik ka riyan! Gusto mong paliparin ko ang ulo mo?” sabi
niya.) The soldiers eventually rounded them up and took them to the church. While some soldiers
looted their homes, others beat up the men. Before the soldiers left, they threatened the people, saying,
“We will come back here and turn this place into dust.” (Babalikan namin ang bayan ninyo hanggang
sa umalikabok dito.) Delia clearly still suffers to this day from the deep-seated traumas of two decades
ago.
On the other hand, Delia said the NPA continues to educate the residents on many things when they are
around, like the proper relations between husband and wife which eschew feudal machismo. They are
also taught alternative health care methods like acupressure and acupuncture. Delia maintained that the
community and the NPA are on good terms: “It’s good that we understand each other because we can
tell them when they’re doing something that we don’t approve of, and in the same way, they let us
know if we’re doing something that they don’t agree with.” (Mabuti at nagkakaintindihan kami dahil
maaari namin silang punahin sa mga bagay na hindi namin gusto, at sila rin, pinupuna kami kapag
may nakikita silang hindi nila gusto.)
Building Communities
A community women’s organization, a local chapter of a nationwide militant women’s group, was
established in Aayagan fourteen years after the massacre. Fifteen women were its founding members.
Delia recalled saying in one meeting: “It’s true what the NPA says – that we ourselves are responsible
for the progress of our community. They are the soldiers of the people, they make an effort to learn
about our conditions, and we can depend on them.” (Totoo naman ang sinasabi [ng NPA] na tayong
umili rin ang magsusulong ng kabutihan nating umili. Dahil sila, mga sundalo ng umili, sila ang
tumitingin sa ating kalagayan, sila ang ating sinasandalan.) But some men tried to discourage them.
They said, “You’re women, mothers at that, yet you want to put up this organization? Aren’t you
scared? We already saw in 1983 what can happen..” (Kababaihan pa naman kayo. Mga ina kayo. Bakit
kayo ang magbabangon ng [organisasyon]? Hindi ba kayo natatakot? Naranasan na natin noong 1983
ang napakahirap na kalagayan.) Even the dap-ay did not immediately approve of their organization,
but the women weren’t fazed.
After attending the organization’s congress in Baguio City, the women were all the more convinced of
the importance of their organization’s role in the community. They initiated the alluyo,n, or cooperative
farming, to ensure that nobody would go hungry and that all would benefit from their earnings from the
sale of their produce. After about five years, the organization was able to completely gain the
admiration and, more importantly, the trust, support and participation of the community. The
organization was able to put up a small rice mill for everybody’s use – which they now fear losing
because they said the military claims that the NPA stores rice there.
Moral Support
After the June 2005 bombings, the community residents said that what they needed most is moral
support; that is, they need to feel that other people care about their situation and are willing to support
their call to stop military harassment and their demand for reparations for agricultural goods damaged
by the military. They said that local government officials didn’t even bother to visit to see how they
were affected by the bombings. They said that only two organizations showed interest and concern for
them – the provincial chapter of a progressive national political party and the other a human rights
group, which both conducted a fact-finding mission in the area. After this, the community petitioned
the military to respect their rights, invoking the Comprehensive Agreement on Respect for Human
Rights and International Humanitarian Law (CARHRIHL), and also demanded sanctions and
reparation for military abuses. A certain Major Bello of the Army, however, replied that they will only
cease operating in the area when the NPA stops as well. The military said they might consider
declaring the area a Peace Zone where both the military and the NPA are banned from entering the
area. However this arrangement apparently remains unpopular among the residents of Aayagan
because, according to them, the implementation of the Peace Zone in Sagada, Mountain Province failed
to put an end to relentless military operations in that area.
Aayagan is a poor community and its residents are in dire need of basic social services. They need a
health center with a resident physician and other health personnel. They would like to have additional
149
teachers and classrooms so that the Aayagan Primary School can finally offer all grade levels. They
would like to have more opportunities for livelihood so they can send all their children to school. They
need better tools for farming to increase their harvests. They have even asked for soil analysis in the
southern part of the sitio as the fields there have yielded rice of poor quality during past harvests. They
see the need for a better communication system, such as hand-held radios, to link one barangay to
another. They also see the need for educational discussions on matters such as the implications of the
World Trade Agremeent (WTO) Agreement on Agriculture (AoA) to their community. Their long-term
hopes include a change in governance, and an end to corruption, militarization, and armed conflict.
150
MINDORO ORIENTAL
The island of Mindoro has an area of 10,245 square kilometers and is the seventh largest of all islands
in the Philippines. It has a length of 150 kilometers from the north to its southernmost tip, and a width
of 90 kilometers. Mindoro Oriental belongs to one of two major clusters of provinces in the Southern
Tagalog region. It is bounded in the north by Verde Island Passage, in the east by Tablas Strait, in the
south by Semirara Island, and in the west by Mindoro Occidental. It is divided politically into 15
municipalities and is further subdivided into 70 barangays. The provincial capital is Calapan.
The province has a total land area of 4,365 square kilometers. As of 2000, a little more than half of the
land had been classified as certified alienable and disposable, or part of public domain. This means that
tracts of land can be sold and owned privately. Agricultural production is the main driver of the
economy.
The coastal areas boast of white sand beaches and bountiful fishery resources. The province is drained
by several rivers and their tributaries. At least 12 river basins can be found in the province, with a total
drainage area of 3,521 square kilometers. There are 21 ports in Mindoro Oriental, but only 17 are
operational. Of these, 10 are feeders, which provide linkages among neighboring islands and nearby
urban centers, four are public commercial ports, two are fishing ports and one is a private commercial
port owned by Pilipinas Shell Petroleum Corporation.
The mountainous interior of Mindoro Oriental is home to several Mangyan groups, namely: the
Alangan, Iraya and Tadyawan on the northern part of the province, and the Hanunuo, Buhid and TaoBuhid on the southern part. The Mangyans are river people. They live along riverbanks where they get
much of their livelihood and subsistence. However, with the arrival of internal migrants from other
islands who settled in the lowlands, the Mangyans were pushed deeper into the mountains. The
Mangyan communities are the starkest reminder of the poverty that grips the whole province. Problems
of severe economic scarcity, lack of land for production, and inadequate social services are
compounded by large-scale militarization in the countryside.
Barangay Milagros in the town of Pamucuban where the research was conducted is located in the
southern part of the province; it is approximately four hours’ drive from Calapan and many more
hours’ hike to the interior. The town has a narrow coastal plain and rugged interior. The Hanunuo
Mangyan live in a mountainous area of about 800 square kilometers.
A Daily Struggle
Life for the members of this indigenous community has been far from idyllic for as long as they can
remember. The community is almost cut off from the outside world except for a few vehicles that
infrequently offer transportation for goods and people to the town proper according to erratic
schedules. Social and economic services are hard to come by. There is a community hospital in
Pamucuban proper, although the expense of travel and treatment still means that the members of the
community do not often go there for medical attention. There is no electricity and no other source of
potable water except the river.
They practice slash-and-burn agriculture and their kaingin is their major source of income. They grow
vegetables and fruits in their small patches of land mainly for their own consumption. Sometimes, they
are able to harvest enough to bring some to the community market or tiangge; their meager earning is
used to buy a few kilos of rice and some dried fish. Some are engaged in weaving, basket making and
bead works. However, these are not stable forms of livelihood since there is no steady market for them
and much of their goods are bought by traders at very low costs and sold at much higher prices in urban
centers.
To augment their earnings, other families have ventured into charcoal-making. The process takes about
two weeks to complete and is very tedious. However, many of the locals are becoming aware of the
destructive effects to the environment of cutting down and burning trees for charcoal. They then face a
dilemma. Loss of trees worsens soil erosion, makes the area prone to landslides and dirties the river.
On the other hand, charcoal-making is for many families a valuable source of extra income given the
dearth of livelihood opportunities.
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The state of women’s reproductive health also reflects the village’s general backwardness. Women
FGD participants explained that pre-natal check-ups are rare for Mangyan women. They also related
that their usual birth practice is for the woman to kneel – sometimes hanging by her torso from a cloth
tied to the ceiling – and then pushing until the child comes out. These births are commonly attended by
traditional birth attendants (hilot).
Livelihood support
The NPA in Mindoro was founded in the mid-1970s and has since operated in the remote and interior
parts of the province. It has been visible across almost all the towns of the province not only during
tactical offensives against state troops but, especially to locals, apparently in various health and
economic production initiatives since the 1980s. The NPA unit operating in the area is under the Lucio
de Guzman Command. Residents meanwhile recalled that the first deployment of military troops in
Pamucuban was in the 1980s although it was not until the early 1990s that they remembered always
seeing large numbers of state forces.
Apparently among the NPA’s earliest campaigns was to encourage communal farms, ranging from half
a hectare to some five to six hectares, in many sitios of the barangay. These were planted to various
vegetables – such as bitter gourd, tomatoes, and beans – and also used for raising livestock such as
cattle and goats. Respondents who once partook of these livelihood efforts of the NPA recalled that
everyone who shared in planting and taking care of the crops and animals could eat. These small-scale
agricultural systems were said to be a part of the “agrarian revolution” being waged by the CPP-NPANDFP and were, as far as the residents benefiting were concerned, a success. However, it seems that
the military found out about these farms and launched successive military operations, thus discouraging
residents from continuing with them.
The community has had very little exposure to other groups that aim to help ease their poverty in the
long-term. Community residents also seem to have ceased to expect the local government to deliver
even the most basic social services. The only health center that operated continuously in the barangay
many years ago was said to be run more by nuns and other religious workers and not by the
government. Ranking local government officials admitted that there are areas in Pamucuban that they
barely ever go to not because of any fear of hostilities or of the armed groups, but simply because their
remoteness made them too expensive and too difficult to reach.
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Table 13: Monitored Armed Confrontations Between The New People's Army and Government Forces - Oriental Mindoro Province
KILLED
WOUNDED
CAPTURED
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
4
2
3
7
3
-
-
1
-
4
11
10
-
-
-
-
-
2004
3
2
Undetermined
#
-
3
Undetermined
#
-
1
-
-
2005
1
-
-
-
1
-
-
-
-
-
DATE
Incidents
2001
2002
2003
PNP – Philippine National Police
153
The Red tag
State troops of the AFP, as well elements of the Philippine National Police (PNP) and CAFGU, have
been operating in the area since 1991. Army troops in particular maintain a presence in the community.
They would arrive once a month, or sometimes once in two months. The members of the community
could not remember a time in recent years when the military was not in the area for a sustained period.
Particularly in 2001, however, there occurred a massive deployment of military forces after a highprofile CPP-NPA-NDFP activity in the general vicinity of Pamucuban. Many respondents felt that this
led many to believe that the town was an NPA stronghold. According to residents, more than 300
soldiers in full battle gear arrived in the community with two to three army tanks and armored
personnel carriers. They said that elements of the 16th Infantry Battalion (IB) of the Philippine Army
were deployed to the different sitios of Pamucuban and adjoining barangays. The soldiers reportedly
stayed for up to two weeks and set up camp in barangay halls and schools. According to residents who
were mostly indigenous people, they were given forms with questions regarding the whereabouts of the
NPA and the frequency with which NPA would appear in the area. They were also asked if they
belonged to any community or people’s organization.
It appears that 2001 was the start of a military campaign plan to annihilate the revolutionary forces in
the area, resulting in the intensification of military operations. There were direct military offensives
against the NPA in their forest camps while others entailed an apparent witch-hunt against civilians in
the community. The pronounced presence of heavily-armed soldiers alarmed residents and drastically
disturbed their, up until then, relatively peaceful lives. According to residents the military seemed to
believe that all the civilians in the area were supporters of the NPA, if not actual members. This was
also the time when the number of attacks against human rights activists, members of people’s
organizations, and other Left-leaning organizations increased.
Residents also said that alongside these operations, the military had “beautification” and “cleanliness”
campaigns in the center of the barangay as well as in some outlying sitios. The soldiers built fences and
tried to teach the indigenous people how to beautify and maintain the cleanliness of their surroundings.
The soldiers also conducted a medical mission for the residents and built a basketball court for the
youth. They stayed for more than a month in the school buildings.
Human rights violations
As has seemed to be the pattern in many other parts of the country, the Red tag was accompanied by
human rights violations. Respondents said that the years 2001 and 2002 marked the height of military
deployments in their community. In 2001 there were 50 documented incidents of human rights
violations in Mindoro Oriental, with some 1,700 victims. Ten of these incidents were summary
executions, and nine were physical assaults on civilians suspected of supporting the NPA. In 2002 in
turn there were 52 incidents with some 1,030 victims, of which 14 were summary executions and 21
cases of physical assault.
There were also some 850 (2001) and 470 (2002) victims of forced evacuations. The number of
documented incidents has dropped since 2003, although it is apparent that the traumatic effects on
residents have lingered. All these incidents were allegedly perpetrated by state forces (military and
paramilitary groups).
Harsh lives
Sagbos Baticuling said that life is hard for the Mangyans of Mindoro: “Parents work very hard to give
their children an education, but their money is never enough to see their children through school.
Education is what we wish for our children but we can’t afford it.” (Ang mga magulang
nagpapakahirap sa pagtatrabaho para sa mga anak pero kinakapos… Iyon ang pangarap namin sa
aming mga anak, kaso [kapos sa panggastos].)
During the women’s FGD, the participants computed at least P132 per day as the amount they needed
for their basic needs which, one mother points out, “Doesn’t yet include emergencies and a whole
year’s schooling.” (Di pa kasama [doon] ang pang-emergency at isang buong taon na pag-aaral.)
Poverty has made it impossible for parents to meet their family’s health needs and their children’s
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education. “If a child happens to be ill, we have to borrow some money to save the child’s life,” said
another mother. (Halimbawa may sakit ang [anak], mangungutang talaga para lang mailigtas ang
[bata].) Another lamented, “The children need P20 for food on school days. If they have an
examination, we pay P40. There are eight exams in a year. Whoever is studying will really have to
stop.” (P20 kada araw ang baon ng mga bata [sa eskwelahan]. Pag exam, P40 ang bayad. Walong
exam sa isang taon ang binabayaran… Kung sinong nag-aaral, titigil talaga.)
A community organization was established in Pamucuban in 1985 which, Sagbos said, the military
branded as an NPA front: “[They said] the NPA was behind the organization.” (NPA daw ang nasa
likod ng organisasyon.) He admitted that they help the NPA by giving them food and water: “If they
need water or rice, we help provide these things. Anyway, they also help us out.” (Pag kailangan [nila]
ng tubig, bigas, [tumutulong] din kami. Binibigyan din kami, eh.) He recalled that in the 1980s the
NPA implemented an “agrarian revolution” where they gave out parcels of land to the Mangyans. What
used to be cattle pastures owned by the rich were converted into land for farming: “It was a huge help
for the indigenous people and the Mangyans were pleased with the livelihoods provided.” (Malaking
tulong iyon sa mga katutubo. Kaya natutuwa ang mga [Mangyan] partikular doon sa kabuhayan.)
The Mangyan’s ancestral domain is currently under the threat of mining. Sagbos asserted: “Vast tracts
of ancestral land will surely be affected by the entry of mining corporations in Mindoro. This is why
we continue to protest mining – it’s unacceptable and it’s a burden to us.” (Yung malawak na saklaw ng
lupain ng mga ninuno ay maaapektuhan dito sa mining corporation dito sa Mindoro. Kaya kami ay
patuloy na nagrereklamo at hindi namin tinatanggap ito dahil sagabal ito.) The community’s active
anti-mining stance has led the military to further suspect links with the NPA, although Sagbos clarified:
“We do not wish to take up arms against the government.” (Ayaw po naming humawak ng armas laban
sa pamahalaan.)
Distressed youth
Not all the children in Pamucuban have directly witnessed incidents of violence or harassment
committed by the military against residents, although they are clearly disturbed by the presence of
military men in their community. Eleven-year-old Ipan said that when he heard that the military and the
NPA had clashed, although the place was some distance from his community, he still got scared: “I was
afraid because those soldiers are armed and they might come to our place.” (Natakot [ako] dahil may
baril [ang mga] iyon at baka pumunta sa [aming] lugar ang mga military.) Ipan fears the military
because he knows that soldiers do maul civilians: “Someone I know was harmed by the military. He
was battered. I got scared because they beat people up.” (Meron [akong] kakilalang dinahas ng militar.
Binugbog siya… natakot ako kasi nambubugbog sila.) Unlike Ipan, 10-year-old Abay happened to be
close to the site of an actual skirmish some five years ago and she recalled: “I was afraid. We started
running and hid among the tall grass.” (Natakot ako. Nagtatakbo kami. Nakarating kami sa marikot.)
She said she doesn’t trust Tagalogs because most soldiers are Tagalog (damuong).
Some children are distressed by the military presence in their community out of concern for their
parents. Twelve-year-old Asto related that about ten army soldiers came to their house looking for her
parents who were suspected by the military of being NPA supporters: “They threatened Tatay (father)
and Nanay (mother).” (Tinakot nila sila Tatay at Nanay.) Tinong, 11, shared a similar experience. His
parents were summoned by the military for questioning. His father refused to go and submit to the
interrogation but grew restless and worried to the point that he had a hard time sleeping. Meanwhile,
Tinong’s mother moved to a relative’s house out of fear that the military might come for her. The
reaction of his parents was not lost on Tinong who witnessed firsthand what the military is capable of.
He once witnessed an encounter between the military and the NPA after which, “Soldiers beat up and
then killed two persons.” (May dalawang taong binugbog at pinatay ng sundalo.) His younger brother
Danyo also witnessed a clash between the NPA and militar in nearby Sitio Buri. In the wake of that
incident, he said, soldiers needlessly burned down his uncle’s house: “[Previously] there really were
NPA fighters inside the house. They are kind to my mother and father.” (May NPA sa loob ng bahay –
meron talaga. Mabait ang NPA sa nanay at tatay.)
Jenelyn, 13, imagined the worst that could happen to her parents at the hands of the military: “I’m
afraid that the soldiers might come to our house. They might beat up my parents, kill them, and behead
them, like what happened to Dulang Bunao.” (Natatakot ako baka pumunta sa bahay ang mga sundalo.
Baka [sila] bugbugin, patayin, at pugutan ng ulo kagaya ni Dulang Bunao.) The circumstances of
155
Dulang Bunao’s death were a shock to the community. She was an old woman who was one day
looking for a wild boar in the forest. Some said a soldier happened to see her and told her to rest awhile
and eat some lunch. No sooner had she complied than the soldier allegedly killed her and chopped off
her head. The team could not verify the incident but, in any case, the fear of many residents was very
real.
Fourteen-year-old Jovit has had traumatic experiences in the hands of the military. He recounted how,
around three years ago, a group of black-garbed soldiers approached him while he was fetching water
near their home. Mustering his courage, Jovit told them: “I’m just here fetching water, why are you
hurting me?” (Nag-iigib lang ako, ba’t nyo ako sinasaktan?) One of them asked where his mother was,
claiming that that she had stolen a chicken. He recalled: “I was alone and they pointed their guns at me.
There were a lot of them, including their ‘manager’. Then suddenly one of their guns went off. I was
shocked but even if I was scared I ran to the house. Nanay (mother) wasn’t there.” (Ako lang mag-isa
ng tinutukan nila ako ng baril. Marami sila, yung manedyer din. Biglang pumutok. Natakot ako bigla
eh kahit natakot ako tumakbo ako sa bahay. Wala si Nanay.) “I couldn’t sleep for two nights. I was so
scared but bore it and didn’t leave the house. The soldiers were gone when my mother arrived. I really
felt so afraid and I couldn’t sleep until I saw my mother.” (Dalawang gabi di nakatulog. Natakot pero
tiniis ko na di lumabas ng bahay. Dumating ang nanay ko na wala na ang mga sundalo. Ang
nararamdaman ko noon natatakot talaga hindi ako natutulog hangga’t di ko nakikita ang nanay ko.)
Jovit told his mother about the incident. Although disbelieving at first, when she realized that he was
telling the truth she tried to reassure him by saying that they would be taken care off and nothing would
happen to them as long as they were not doing anything wrong. Yet Jovit remembers not feeling any
more secure: “I was so scared… so I went to fetch water. It was while getting water that I cried, I
suddenly felt scared… I even left the plastic gallon container… I went home and forgot about the water
(Natakot ako... umigib ako muna. Nag-igib ako muna tuloy ako umiyak, natakot bigla ako… ay
iniwanan ko iyong plastik na galon… Doon na naman ako sa bahay hindi na ako nag-igib.) Despite
this incident, Jovit and his mother do not dare refuse the military when they ask to spend the night in
their house. Recently, before leaving a soldier gave Jovit P100 although he said: “I didn’t want to take
the money but I was scared so I accepted it.” (Ayaw ko sanang tanggapin pero natakot ako kaya
tinanggap ko.)
When asked how often the military passed by their community, the children during the FGD said that
their visits were erratic and, especially in the last couple of years, sporadic. When they do arrive there
would be as many as 40-60 soldiers making the rounds of their community at any one time. The
children were scared of the military because of the weapons they carry, and they dreaded being
subjected to questioning. Jenelyn says the typical questions are on the whereabouts of the NPA, the
location of their forest camps, and the houses in the community where they stay. Some children
explained that even though NPA fighters are similarly armed they do not frighten the children. Jovit
says: “NPAs are kind. They are helpful.” (Mabait ang NPA. Tumutulong sila.)
Although these children have grown up in the midst of armed conflict, they have not lost the capacity
to dream of a better future. Some hope to become nurses, teachers, and policemen. Others simply long
to help their parents with their farming or with charcoal-making. But in the meantime, they have to
contend with the harsh realities of poverty. Jovit’s mother, who can no longer afford to send him to
school, could only tell him: “If you still want to continue with your studies, it’s now your
responsibility.” (Bahala na kayong magpatuloy sa pag-aaral.)
The needs of these children are undeniably basic. Jenelyn said they need teachers, books, and school
supplies. She wished it weren’t so difficult for their parents to send them to school. Lack of money is
obviously a hindrance to achieving their dreams: “We don’t get to study because we don’t have the
money.” (Hindi [kami] nakakapag-aral dahil kulang ang pera.) In terms of health, the children also
wish that they could have better access to doctors, nurses and medicines.
Fear and anxiety
Pastor Obet, some 40 or so years old, recalled that uniformed soldiers conducted a house-to-house
census around 2002; “I was puzzled because they said that they were just getting our names. They
listed our names, starting with the parents and then the children. The whole family, even the ages of its
members. How old are you? When were you born?” (Nakakapagtaka kasi sasabihin nila kukunin
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naming iyong mga pangalan. Ininilista ang mga pangalan, simula sa magulang hanggang sa mga
anak. Basta lahat ng pamilya, pati mga edad. Ilan taon ka na? Anong taon ka ipinanganak?) He asked
what the census was for to which the soldiers replied, “Just to know who the people are… To know and
see if the family is complete. That’s it, ‘if the family is complete’ – they didn’t say anything else.”
(Para raw makilala…Para malaman at kung kumpleto ang pamilya. Iyon nga kung kumpleto, wala
silang masabi.) He said that his anxiety only increased.
Sometime in 2003 or 2004, the military called the residents of the community to a meeting. They
recounted what it was about: “The purpose of the meeting was to warn us not to let the NPA into our
homes.” [If we disobey them, they threatened] to wipe us out even if we have small children in our
homes. They really said that.” (Ang agenda sa amin ay bilang babala daw sa aming mga Mangyan na
huwag na daw talaga magpatuloy ng mga NPA… [dahil] uubusin daw talaga kami kahit daw may
batang anak pa sa loob [ng bahay] hindi daw nila sasantuhin… ‘yan na talaga ang sinabi po sa amin.)
After that initial assembly the military remained in the community for about two weeks and kept
calling the locals to a string of meetings. According to the women: “We Mangyans were frequently
summoned by the military. A week [has hardly passed since the last meeting] and we’re being called to
another meeting. If they don’t find us in our homes, they say that our husbands are probably with the
NPA. We tell them [it’s not true]. That’s what the military keeps doing – they always send for us.”
(Palaging [pinapatawag] ang mga Mangyan. [Di pa natatapos] ang isang lingo andoon na naman
kami. Pag [wala] kami sa bahay sasabihin [nila na] kaya siguro nawawala [ang] inyong asawa baka
[nandoon] na naman [sa mga NPA]. Ang [sinasabi namin ay] hindi naman umalis ang mister namin.
[G]anyan ang ginagawa ng military, palagi na lang [kaming] pinapatawag.)
The women related that the military also worked on a community project while they were camped in
their village: “They beautified [the village]. They cleared alleyways within the community and built
bamboo fences around each house – that’s what they did while they were there.” ([P]inaganda nila ang
[barangay]. Ginawan ng mga eskinita ang mga daanan ng tao, ginawan ng bakuran ang mga
kabahayan…nilagyan ng kawayan…yun daw ang kanilang programa…habang sila ay [nagkampo]
dun.) They also told the villagers to give them vegetables if they happened to have a supply. The
women said: “Of course if we have vegetables, we also give them some so that they [won’t accuse us
of being with the NPA during the times when we are not able to attend the meetings they call for].”
([S]iyempre kami naman kung meron nga, dadalhin namin doon para lang hindi naman baga kami
[pagbintangan na nasa NPA pag hindi kami nakapunta sa pinapatawag nilang pulong].) The soldiers
apparently take note of those who are not in the meeting and, sometimes, show up at the houses of
these people unannounced.
The women also recalled being presented to high-ranking military officials: “They introduced to us
[Colonel] Palparan, the one who looks Chinese, to Captain Laguna, and to Captain Castillo. The
villagers grew pale out of fear of the military.” ([P]inapakilala pa sa amin sina…Palparan, yung
parang intsik… tapos itong si Captain Laguna, [at] Captain Castillo… Parang wala [nang] dugo na
iyong aming [mga kababayan], [dahil sa takot].) In one incident of military harassment, the soldiers
zeroed in on one man and kept insisting that he was a certain “Ka Paras” of the NPA. Witnesses said
the military told him that they knew he had a child studying in Manila that was being supported by the
NPA and they they kept threatening him. The women in the FGD said that they were afraid that the
same thing would happen to their husbands. When the soldiers ask them where their husbands are, they
just explain that the men have to work in the fields: “It so happened that a collective effort was
organized to clear the land [and prepare it for planting].” (Eh nagkataong mayroon kaming bayanihan
dun na tulong-tulong maggamas.) To appease the soldiers they said that they had to offer to bring their
husbands to see them the next day.
The women recalled attending a large gathering twice where the military distributed relief goods like
clothes, rice and medicines. After being given these things, each one was questioned by the military:
“They bring us to a corner and interview us. They’ll ask, ‘Are you part of the NPA? Don’t be afraid,
we’ll give you this and that if you [surrender].’ Of course we Mangyans tell them, ‘Sir, even though we
are poor, [we are not part of that group]. Why would we go there when we’re afraid? We don’t even
know who they are. Sometimes we just see some armed men on the trail.’” (Iinterbyuhin doon sa
sulok…tatanungin kung ‘Kayo ba nakasama dun sa NPA, huwag kayong matakot, bibigyan ko kayo ng
ganyan-ganyan [para] magbago kayo… ’ Siyempre e di sasabihin ng mga Mangyan na ‘eh sir [kahit
ganito kami kahirap] hindi namin gawain iyan…eh bakit kami sir magapunta dun sa hirap lang namin
nga natakot ngani…hindi ngani kaming mga Mangyan…nakakilala kung NPA…meron kaming nakikita
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diyan sa daan maraming may mga darang baril.) But they say that once you mention the NPA then the
soldiers just keep asking questions and badger them by repeating questions they’ve already asked.
Cita, 40 years old, is a mother of seven. She is also the wife of an NPA fighter which is why, she says,
the military is tracking her down. Her father heard that the military had paid a fellow Mangyan to
identify NPA supporters in the community, which put Cita at risk. Because of this, she and her children
moved to another place to avoid the military. She related: “The military wants to hold our family in
their custody so [my husband] will come down [from the mountains] so we moved. We’re really being
tracked down… The consequences are harsh because my children had to stop schooling. They often cry
because we keep moving from place to place. They haven’t been able to finish their studies and have
lost hope of achieving their dreams. Sometimes, my children just stare blankly into space. [As for me] I
can’t work normally. I often get sick and I have headaches probably because of thinking too much…
I’m so frightened that it seems this is what will kill me.” (Gusto ng militar i-hold ang pamilya para
bumaba ‘yung isa kaya lumipat po kami. Hinahanap talaga eh… Matindi ang epekto kasi napatigil sila
sa pag-aaral. Iyak sila nang iyak dahil palipat-lipat kami ng tirahan. Hindi [na sila] nakapagtapos at
nawalan ng pag-asa para makamit ang pangarap. Minsan nakatulala ang mga anak ko. Di na ako
makapagtrabaho nang maayos. Marami [akong] sakit, laging sumasakit ang ulo [ko] dahil sa pagiisip… Dahil sa tindi ng takot talaga mukhang iyan ang papatay sa akin.)
Fifty-four year old Ena, whose husband is active in supporting the NPA, recalled that she and her
husband once hid in the forest out of fear that the military would kill them both. She recounted, “My
husband and I experienced sleeping in the rain when we stayed in the forest. The military said that they
were going to arrest 12 members of the NPA in [our sitio] – they said [12 of us joined the NPA]. The
only lighting we had was the lightning… we would only be able to scoop our food when the lightning
flashed. We slept in the forest and were so afraid that we waited there for such a long time.”
(Nakaranas na kaming mag-asawa nagatulog ulanan at pumunta kami sa gubat. Iyong mga militar
mayroon silang insasabi na ipahuhuli na dito sa [aming sitio] dose piraso – ay dose dito ang mga
[palitaw na hukbo]. Noon baga ang aming ilaw, kidlat…pagka kumidlat saka kami dudukot ng
kakanin. Sige duon na kami sa gubat ginatutulog…sa katakutan matagal hinintay namin.)
Ena thought of sending her husband back to his hometown which is not in Mindoro. Finally, she
decided to ask the help of the military in clearing her husband’s name: “I mustered all my courage to
talk to a military officer. I said, ‘I have a problem,’ he said, ‘What [is it]?’ ‘Sir, I just want to clear my
husband’s name.’ He said, ‘Why, what did your husband do?’ I said, ‘We go to [the NPA] to bring
them supplies.’ I admitted this despite [my neighbors’] warnings that they might hurt my husband. [The
officer said], ‘Why didn’t you bring your husband with you?’” (Ah lakas-loob na lang [akong]
nagpunta kay officer. [Sabi ko] “Mayron…akong problema,” sabi niya “bakit?” “Sir kasi gusto ko
lang magpalinis ako ng pangalan ng aking asawa.” Sabi niya, “bakit ano ba ang asawa mo?” “Kasi
ay nagpuntapuntahan nga kami noon, nagpahatid-hatid, nagadala ng mga gamit nila,” sabi ko.
Umamin na nga kami na ganun ang asawa ko tapos sinabi ko ang sabi ng iba baka…saktan lamang
ang asawa ko… Ang sabi niya, “Bakit ikaw ang nagpunta, bakit hindi mo [siya] dalhin dito?”). She
returned soon after with her husband and they were brought to a military camp in a nearby province
and interviewed by a captain. “He asked how long we have been [helping the NPA] and if the NPA has
harassed anyone [in the community]. My husband said, ‘I haven’t experienced any form of harassment.
It hasn’t been that long since I started helping them, like bringing rice for them.’” ([Tinanong niya
kung] gaano katagal [na naming gawain iyon at] kung may mga hinaras na daw [ang NPA]. Sabi ng
asawa ko ‘Hindi naman po ako nakaranas ng pag-haras basta ang kwan ko noon di pa naman
matagal, nagdala-dala ako ng [halimbawa] bigas.’)
Ena says that her husband was threatened during the investigation. The soldiers shook him and
demanded, “’Tell the truth! Have you killed any soldiers? They even said, ‘[Let me see] if you know
how to hold a gun. Take this and shoot the flag.’ My husband said, ‘I don’t know how to shoot, but if
you insist, assure me that you won’t file a case against me.’” (“Magsabi ka nga ng totoo!... Mayroon na
ba kayong pinatay na…mga sundalo din?”…Sabi pa, “Kung marunong kang humawak ng baril,
hawakan mo ito [at] barilin mo yung watawat”… Ang sabi ng asawa ko, “Hindi ako marunong
mamaril pero kung utusan ninyo… [sabihin] niyo na wala akong kaso.”) Ena became afraid that the
military might hurt them because they were getting angry at her husband. Yet all she wanted, she said,
was assurance that her husband would not be harmed after they admitted that he had helped the NPA.
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They expected to be given a document guaranteeing their safety but received no such thing. She said
the military considered him to be a rebel returnee and took his picture. After that, the military claimed
that many NPA fighters had turned themselves in but she says the truth is, like her husband, they were
not NPA fighters, but just admitted supporters. She says: “[I saw these so-called rebel returnees] but I
knew they were not members of the NPA. I know that they join rallies. They probably just admitted it
because if they don’t, they might just disappear.” (Hindi [mga] NPA ang nakita ko…kilala ko ang mga
iyon – mga nagasama noon sa rally. Inamin na lang nila na NPA [sila] kasi pag hindi [mo] inamin,
mawawala ka nalang mamaya.) The “mass surrender” took place at a military camp in their province
of an Infantry Brigade under the command of then Colonel Jovito Palparan, Jr. She says: “We figured
that the military didn’t have any plans of leaving until they made people surrender.” (Sa tingin naming
wala namang kabalak-balak ang mga military mag-alis [hangga’t wala silang napapasuko].)
This happened in 2002. Some time after the investigation their house was set ablaze. “Our house was
burned down while we were away. We didn’t leave a fire burning inside the house so it was
deliberately set on fire.” (Sinunog [ang bahay namin habang] wala kami [doon]… Wala namang apoy
[na naiwan] sa loob [kaya sinadya talagang sunugin].) They lived in the forest once again and decided
to wait for the military to leave the area before they rebuilt their house. She recalled, “We couldn’t
cook so my siblings, nieces and nephews brought us food. We couldn’t do normal household chores
because we were paralyzed with fear. One of my cousins went crazy. He kept laughing by himself in
the forest. He recovered when the military left. I realized that the Mangyans in [our village] had gone
through so much.” (Hindi na kami nakaluto, [hinahatiran] nalang kami ng mga kapatid ko at mga
pamangkin ko. Hindi na talaga kami makagampan sa mga gawaing bahay, natatakot na lang. Iyong
pinsan ko ngang [lalaki], naloko… nagatawa na lang nang nagatawa sa gubat. Pero ngayon natinuan
din nung wala na ang military. Kaya sabi ko ang naranasan ng mga Mangyan dito sa [amin] noon,
sobra din.)
The way the women of the community described the NPA was in stark contrast with how they spoke of
the military. According to them, “They’re polite and disciplined. They clean up their mess. Whenever
they eat in our house they even tell us not to cook because they’ll do it for us. They even fetch the
water. They end up feeding us [instead of the other way around]. We just give them snacks.” (Mas
magalang pa yung kwan sa amin, disiplinado…ang kalat nila sila din, walang kalat maiwan diyan
kahit ano. Pag [kumakain sila] minsan sa aming bahay hwag [na daw] kaming magluto, sila na…
Kahit mag-igib ngani kami, wag mag-igib sila na mag-igib…kami ang ginapakain nila…oo totoo, mga
pagkain naming hindi kami nagaluto ng amin maliban sa aming bigyan [sila] ng pameryenda.) They
also appreciate the fact that the NPA doesn’t make off with their things. “If [the NPA] holds a meeting
in our house they remind each other not to touch any of our things. But when the military came to the
house, they took my nephew’s bolo. They saw that he had a pistol which he uses for hunting wild
boars. They said, ‘So you have one of these… Do you want me to hit your head with it?’ They
confiscated the pistol, the bolo, and got some hot peppers to help them with the cold. They said they’d
crush chilies into my nephew’s eyes.” (Nagamiting din diyan na ‘walang gagalaw ng di kanilang gamit
ha, wag kayong maki-alam kung anuanuman’… Kung [ang] militar magpunta sa amin, yung gulok ng
aking pamangkin, dinala… yung pamangkin ko mayroong pambaril baga sa kwan yung tawag paltik,
yung paltik baga yung pang baboy damo, nakita ng military. [Sabi,] ‘Mayron pala kayo nito. Gusto
mong ipukpok ko ito sa ulo mo?’ Dinala nila yung paltik, yung itak…[at] may dala silang sili, yan daw
ang gamut sa kanilang ginaw… Durugan daw yung mga mata ng pamangkin ko.)
Luning: Family on the run
Luning is 13 years old and a sixth grade student in the local elementary school. Her family makes a
living through farming. Luning’s father owns two hectares of land filled with fruit-bearing trees:
banana, coconut, avocado, and mango. Her mother cultivates vegetables in less than a hectare of land.
To augment their income, Luning’s father also makes charcoal, while she and her five other siblings
help by making twig brooms (walis tingting). Luning admits that between broom-making and attending
to household chores, she hardly has any time to play. If she has time she helps her mother clear her
small vegetable plot by weeding and cutting the grass. Despite their efforts, Luning said there are days
when her family isn’t able to eat three full meals a day. When she has no choice but to endure her
hunger, Luning said she suffers from headaches and stomachaches although she said she is used to this:
“In school, I often don’t have food for lunch or even for a snack.” (Madalas walang baon, walang
meryenda sa iskul.)
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She recalled that in 2000, some soldiers came to their house looking for her father. “They asked where
my father was and whether we welcomed NPAs into our house.” (Nagtanong [sila] kung saan ang
tatay ko [at] kung nagpapatuloy daw kami ng NPA.) When the soldiers learned that her father was
working in the fields, they asked Luning’s brothers to take them there but the boys refused. The
soldiers didn’t insist but she still shivered in fear even when they left. She lay awake at night picturing
the soldiers killing her father. She stopped schooling that year and her parents fled to Manila for a
while to escape military harassment. Luning’s family took refuge in the compound of a Protestant
church along with a number of other evacuees from their province. Luning and her family ended up
staying in Manila for six months. Yet when they returned to their village they found out that soldiers
still hadn’t given up looking for their father and they were forced to stay with Luning’s grandmother in
another village for a month.
Upon returning, Luning’s family had to start from scratch in order to survive: “We had no source of
income. It was devastating.” (Wala na kaming kabuhayan – wasak na.) To make things worse they
found out that some of their relatives had inadvertently sold their livestock, clothes, and even the wood
panels in their house: “My aunts said they sold our chickens because they thought we were never
coming back.” (Pinagbili na daw [ng mga auntie ko yung mga manok] kasi sabi nila hindi na daw
kami babalik.) Despite their difficulties, Luning’s family survived one day at a time: “Even if we had
no food for dinner, for breakfast, or lunch, we just put up with it.” (Ay kahit walang hapunan, walang
agahan, walang tanghalian, nagtitiis lang.) One time they said that they received relief goods and
medical assistance from the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD).
Luning was eventually able to go back to school. Despite the constant monitoring of the soldiers in
their community, gloomy thoughts on the possibility that their lives would be disrupted once more
simply had to be kept at bay. “We’re also happy that our comrades have somehow managed to stay
alive. I won’t get in the way of my parents if they want to join [the NPA]. Because if [they’re wanted
by the military] then they have somewhere to go.” (Masaya din ngayon kasi kahit papaano ay nandito
pa rin silang [mga kasama]. Hindi [ko na rin] hahadlangan ang mga magulang ko [kung] gusto nilang
[sumapi]. Kasi kung mainit, dun na lang sila [pupunta].) Luning in turn dreams of becoming a nurse,
not to work abroad and earn dollars but to be able to help the poor and the indigenous Mangyans. (Para
makatulong sa mahihirap at sa mga katutubong Mangyan.)
Sam: Recruited to spy
Sam’s story begins in 2001 when his uncle Pingot, his mother’s cousin, took him to Nabas City. There,
he was introduced to a certain Rolly who brought him to Manila on the vague assurance that he would
be sent to school. He was 13 years old at the time. “I didn’t think he was a bad person. I really thought
he’d send me to school.” (Akala ko hindi naman [siya] masamang tao. Akala ko naman pag-aaralin
ako.) At first everything seemed normal to Sam with Rolly making him feel at home in his house in
Manila where his wife and two daughters live. One morning, Rolly told Sam to get dressed as they
were going to Rolly’s office. They took a bus and then a train to a gasoline station where Rolly made a
call on his cellphone, asking someone to fetch them. “In less than 15 minutes, a military vehicle
arrived. I grew nervous but I tried not to show I was afraid.” (Wala pang 15 minutes dumating yung
sasakyan ng military. Kinakabahan ako pero di ko pinapakita na takot ako.) Sam was brought to Camp
Aguinaldo, a major military camp in Quezon City. He was taken to the mess hall where he was invited
to have lunch. No sooner had he started eating when a familiar-looking soldier approached. Sam says,
“He just stared at me then he suddenly laughed. He said, ‘I know [you]!’” (Nakatingin lang siya sa
akin tapos bigla siyang tumawa. Sabi niya, “Alam ko na!”) At that point Sam began to cry.
Eventually, Sam found out why he was brought there: “They wanted me to spy on the NPA, to join
them and find out where they usually camp, where they store their firearms, and who their supporters
are. I was to report to them every week.” ([Ang] pinapagawa nila sa akin, manmanan ko yung mga
NPA, sumama uli ako [sa kanila] tapos [alamin] kung saan palagi naga-base, saan tinatago ang mga
baril nila, [at] sino daw itong nagasuporta sa NPA… tapos tuwing linggo magrereport ako sa kanila.)
He says that he could not but agree including even to identifying members of the NPA.
On one of his nights in the camp, Sam recalled drunken soldiers playing a trick on him. They asked
him to get them some hot water. “While I was getting them hot water, I was afraid and in tears.
Something clicked at my back. I turned around and saw a .45 pistol pointed at me. I lost
consciousness.” ([Habang] kumukuha ako ng mainit na tubig, umiiyak ako sa takot, tapos may
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lumagitik sa likuran ko. [Pagtingin ko may] nakatutok sa akin na .45…[kaya nawalan ako ng malay].)
Sam said that when he woke up the next morning he was naked and the letter “H” was painted on his
leg. He was not sure what it meant although he guessed that it probably stood for “hukbo”, or army,
which is how the NPA is colloquially referred to. He spent three nights in the military camp. He
received P3,000 from the soldiers and was told that he would get more money if he continued to do
intelligence work for them. He was even asked whether he wanted to study in Batangas or in Camp
Aguinaldo (site of the AFP’s general headquarters).
Sam said that he went home to Pamucuban with every intent to tell his parents and the NPA – whom he
referred to as “mga kasama” or the comrades – about what happened to him. Upon his return though,
he first spent a few days at a cousin’s house because he had come down with fever: “I wasn’t up and
about because I was so afraid and I even came down with fever.” (Hindi ako agad makatayo gawa
nang natatakot nga ako tapos nagkaroon ng lagnat.) He also said that: “I grew even more afraid. I
wished I had never been born.” (Nadagdagan uli yung takot ko. Pumasok sa isip ko na sana hindi
nalang ako nabuhay.) Shortly after his return he went to see the NPA to explain what had happened
and he said that he told them everything (Inihayag ko rin sa kanila ang lahat). To this day, his parents
and siblings push him out of the house whenever they get news that the military is on its way to their
village.
Sam also shared that he was only 11 years old when he decided that he wanted to join the NPA. He
recalled resenting his parents’ for not being able to send him to school and for punishing him harshly
whenever he did something wrong. He said that the NPA did not accept him because of his age and
instead asked him to help in various tasks such as gathering vegetables and other supplies, bringing
messages, and guiding visitors. Whenever they were around they would also let him sit in educational
discussions although he says that he couldn’t really understand the things they studied. They were also
able to teach him the alphabet. He also recounted visiting the NPA in their forest camps (Napasama na
rin ako diyan sa mga physical base, ganyan.) and once being able to touch a gun when the NPA went
into a home in a village (Nakapaghawak na rin ng baril minsan ng nasa bahay ng masa.)
Sam, now 18, has a different attitude towards his parents and wants to take care of them in their old
age: “I want to be with my parents because they’re getting old.” (Pangarap kong makasama ang mga
magulang ko dahil matanda na sila). He said that he would still like to be part of the NPA but is
apprehensive that he would be distracted by his parents’ condition: “I know there are greater
responsibilities to carry out [than looking after my parents], but I don’t think I’ll be able to go to the
mountains. I still want to join the NPA, but I don’t want to be an impediment to them.” (Alam ko na
may dapat gampanan pa ako na higit pa dun pero palagay ko hindi na ako makakapunta dun. Gusto ko
pa rin maging hukbo, ayoko lang maging sagabal.)
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CAPIZ
The municipality of Tibiao is located in the central part of Panay Island with the mountains of Antique
and Aklan bordering it towards the west. The languages spoken are Ilonggo and Kinaray-a. The upland
barangays of Tibiao encompass rugged terrain and some virgin forests, especially in its upper reaches
where wild boar, deer and monkey also abound. The rice fields are in the lowland and intermediate
barangays. Rice planting is a major source of income of the town’s residents.
The headwaters of rivers meander from the mountains of Tibiao where the Tumanduks, the largest
ethnolinguistic group in the island, settled and built their communities even before the Spanish
conquistadores arrived in the 16th century.
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Table 14: Monitored Armed Confrontations Between The New People's Army and Government Forces - Capiz Province
KILLED
DATE
Incidents
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2
2
WOUNDED
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
1
-
-
-
8
-
CAPTURED
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
1
1
-
-
-
-
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In 1962, then President Diosdado Macapagal declared 33,310 hectares of the Tumanduks’ ancestral
domain as a military reservation through Presidential Proclamation No. 67. Much of this ancestral land
is within the boundaries of Tibiao. Central Panay also hosts Camp Macario Peralta, the biggest military
training camp outside of Luzon and the base of the Philippine Army’s 3rd Infantry Division, in
Jamindan.
Central Panay has long been a training ground for the Army, as well as a site for bomb testing and
frequent military operations. From the 1960s to the early 1980s, the military collected tumado (a form
of taxation) from among the national minorities in the area. Human rights groups have also
documented various cases of human rights violations in the area: summary executions, illegal arrests,
illegal searches, destruction and divestment of property, and harassment. Paramilitary units have been
recruited from among the civilian populace, and military detachments have been put up in the
Tumanduk communities. There were even efforts to drive the Tumanduk away from their land.
The village of Barangay Anilao is many kilometers from the town center and accessible only on foot.
There is a small primary school with a teacher and a parateacher, although multiple classes are held
simultaneously in its few classrooms and there is sometimes an overflow of students who have to go to
the nearby church. The school is unable to provide all levels of elementary education. The literacy rate
is low, with almost half of the population unable to read or write.
There is no doctor or nurse either in the community itself or in neighboring villages. Only in the last
five years has there has been a midwife providing health care. She visits the barangay once in two
months, or six times a year, to conduct pre-natal examinations on pregnant women as well as to give
free medicines for common ailments like coughs, colds, fever, LBM and arthritis. On occasion she also
immunizes infants and children against measles, polio and DPT. Barangay residents, especially the
elderly, commonly resort to herbal medicine to cure their afflictions instead of consulting medical
professionals. This is because the nearest hospital is on average two to three hours away on foot. Only
when children are seriously ill or injured do parents try to bring them to the hospital.
Abuses of young and old
During the FGD with the children, it became apparent to the research team that the young are not
spared from the adverse effects of armed conflict, and indeed are especially vulnerable to military
abuse.
Twelve-year-old Ronald narrated how military men apparently vented their frustrations on his family
on the pretext that they had helped the NPA in planning and conducting an ambush in a nearby town in
2003 where most of the Army soldiers were killed by the NPA. He will never forget the day when
retreating soldiers arrived at their home. He said that a wounded soldier singled him out: “When he
arrived he pointed to me and said that I was behind the ambush. A group of them held me and kicked
me. They kicked me three times on the chest and when I got up they grabbed a chicken and hit me on
the back with it. Nanay (mother) helped me up and embraced me when I fell after being kicked. At the
time I thought for sure that we were going to be killed. One of them even pointed a gun at Nanay
(mother) and said, ‘Maybe you want us to kill you!’ He said that we were too plucky. He said we were
relatives of NPA.” (Pagdating [niya], itinuro na nga ako na nagpa-ambush nga daw. Tapos iyong
grupo nila, hinawakan ako tapos sinipa ako. Tatlong beses ako sinipa [sa dibdib] tapos pagbangon ko
kumuha pa ng manok at inihampas sa likod ko. Binangon ako ni Nanay dahil tumumba ako pagkasipa.
Binangon niya ako at niyapos pagkasipa sa akin. Di na nga ako umaasa na mabuhay pa kami ni nanay
noong oras na iyon. May tumututuok kay Nanay at nagsasabing, “Gusto nyo siguro patayin kayo ah!”
Mga matatapang daw kami. Kamag-anak daw namin mga NPA.) Yet the soldiers apparently did not
stop there. The military had brought not only their wounded but their dead with them. Ronald said that
their commanding officer also pointed to the bodies and said that perhaps he and his mother wanted to
cook and eat them.
Ronald says that something broke in his chest when he was kicked, referring to it as “becoming like the
chest of a bird.” (Naging parang dibdib ng ibon.) Until now he complains that his chest hurts whenever
he lifts something heavy and that when going uphill he gets tired easily because of the pain in his chest.
Even his mother, who was pregnant at the time and felt stomach pains, is traumatized: “Nanay (mother)
is a nervous wreck. [Until now] she shrieks whenever she hears a loud noise.” (Ninenenerbiyos si
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Nanay. [Hanggang ngayon] makarinig lang ng putok ng rebentador sumisigaw na.) Ronald, who was
then in the first grade, and his eight siblings all stopped schooling after that.
Whenever soldiers patrol their barangay, Ronald is advised by his family not to go out of the house or
make noise. Ronald’s fear of the military does not extend to the NPA. He said that the NPA protects
the farmers from the land-grabbing attempts of the military: “The military wrests our land from us
that’s why the NPA is at war with them.” (Nang-aagaw ng lupa ang Army kaya nilalabanan sila ng
NPA.) He prefers the NPA to the military, saying that if the NPA were not around then the Army
soldiers would get away with their abuses. Ronald’s only dream is for him and his siblings to finish
school.
Fifteen-year-old Meldor recounted how he was harassed by the military after a sniping incident near
their village in October 2005. Some army men apprehended him and asked if he was the son of an NPA
fighter. Nervous at the accusation, Meldor retorted, “Sir, you’re the one who’s armed. Maybe you’re
the NPA!” (Sir kayo ang may armas. Baka kayo ang NPA!). This apparently irked the soldiers who
almost hit him with their rifle butts. In the military investigation that ensued Meldor’s mother asserted
that her son is innocent to which, Meldor said, the military threatened to behead her. Meldor does not
take the threat lightly and he recounted how his friend Adi was allegedly forcibly detained by the
military on his way home from their family’s farm. He said the military accused Adi of having come
from an NPA camp and that when he denied this the military detained him: “The military took Adi.
They tied him up and asked him where the NPA camp was. Adi said he was innocent and was
hungry… and that the NPA passed by only once. The soldiers hit him with a rifle butt and kept forcing
him to answer.” (Dinakip si Adi ng mga military, ginapos at posas, tinanong kung saan ang kampo ng
NPA. Sabi ni Adi inosente sya at gutom na… dumaan NPA pero isang beses lang. Tapos hinambalos
ng butt ng baril ng sundalo si Arman at pinilit pa rin.) Meldor claims that Adi was beaten up and held
by the military for three weeks and that even his relatives only found out what happened to him when
he was released.
Meldor resented what the military did to his friend. He was clearly angry at the military and said that
he wants to get back at them: “If I see the military and I happen to be armed … I will kill –” (Kung
makita [ko] ang army at may hawak ako [na armas], papatayin ko ang –) He said the military keep
insisting that children like him are members of the NPA but, “The NPA does not force us to join them.
The military hounds us with questions, but when we answer them they say we’re liars.” (Ang NPA
hindi naman namimilit [sumapi kami sa kanila]. Ang military laging nag-iimbistiga; pag sinagot mo
naman, sasabihan kang sinungaling.)
In contrast, Meldor said he appreciated the NPA’s good advice: “Don’t drink, help your parents.”
(Huwag uminom, tumulong sa magulang.) He approved of the NPA’s teaching illiterate adults how to
read and write. But their most significant contribution for him is their help in defending the ancestral
land of the Tumandoks against the government’s attempts to take it away. Meldor asserted that he is
part of the struggle for social justice: “I am involved in the conflict [between the NPA and the Army]
because it is about the Tumandoks’ ancestral domain. We poor farmers are involved too, because we
are victims of the military’s land-grabbing.” (Kasali [ako] dahil ang away [ng NPA at Army] ay
tungkol sa lupa ng Tumandok. Kasali kaming mga mahirap sa bukid dahil sa pang-aagaw ng Army [sa
lupa namin].) Meldor’s aspirations for his community are challenging, but his personal dreams are
simple: to help his parents work for a living by being a good farmer.
Taking sides
Three young girls – Nerissa (15 years old), Antonette (14) and Jonabelle (15) – corroborated a
relative’s chilling account of what he underwent at the hands of the military. Antonette’s 18-year-old
uncle, Jhon, was taken by the military into custody because he was wearing a T-shirt printed with the
words “Coronacion Chiva Command” (supposedly the name of the NPA of Panay Island). The three
girls were among a group of 25 women and children who went to confront the military and look for
Jhon. Yet at the military detachment the soldiers refused to let them see him or even assure them that
he was still alive. In an attempt to defend Jhon, Nerissa told the military that he couldn’t have known
the significance of the T-shirt he was wearing because he didn’t know how to read, to which the soldier
just snapped: “You illiterates!” (Mga illitereyt!) Antonette in turn tried to explain that the T-shirt was
just given to his uncle by a friend, but the soldiers told them that Jhon had already admitted his guilt.
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She said: “I was infuriated... I thought my uncle was already dead.” (Naramdaman ko ang galit... akala
ko patay na ang tiyo ko.) Jhon was eventually returned to his family.
When asked whether they have experienced the same violence from the NPA, Nerissa said, “We are
not afraid of the NPA because they teach us about our health and tell us to help our parents. It is the
Army soldiers who are insulting.” (Hindi kami natatakot sa NPA kasi tinuturuan nila kami sa
kalusugan, sa pagtulong sa magulang. Ang Army sila pa ang nauunang mambastos.) Antonette
mentioned an incident in which the military accosted her and searched her bag allegedly because she
might be carrying a landmine. She tries not to leave their home whenever she knows that soldiers are
around and only helps the family with their farming when they leave the barangay.
But children who keep to their homes out of fear for the military are not spared from harassment.
Nerissa, once suspected by the military of bringing food to the NPA, said that Army soldiers would
enter their homes even when their parents are not around. Jonabelle recalled an incident when military
men took their rice and made a mess of their home. They sometimes even demand that she find
vegetables and fetch water for them although Jonabelle said that she never agrees to these.
Nerissa and Jonabelle agreed that if the NPA did not operate in their barangays the military would
continue to abuse them: “The military will lord it over us. They will get away with anything.” (Ang
Army ang maghahari dito. Pwede [nilang] gawin kung anong gusto nila.) Antonette and her friends
have joined rallies to make people aware of the conditions in their far-flung barangays as well as to
support the cause of the masses. These rallies have included those demanding the ouster of Gloria
Macapagal-Arroyo, opposing oil price hikes and the Expanded Value Added Tax (EVAT), and
demanding higher wages for workers.
Antonette and her friends said that the NPA’s support for the Tumandoks in their struggle for land
inspires them to promote the cause of the majority of peasants and workers in their own way. They
continue to wish for simple things, however: to finish school, help their parents earn a living, and ease
poverty in their families. But Nerissa in particular said she wanted to join the NPA:“I want to be part of
the NPA to help the poor the government is oppressing.”(Gusto kong maging BHB [Bagong Hukbong
Bayan or NPA] upang makatulong sa mga pobre na dinadaig ng gobyerno.)
Prolonged ordeals
Adult residents also told of experiencing military cruelty due to the latter’s notion that they were NPA
supporters. The military has forced a few of them to act as guides to NPA campsites. Some, like 44year-old Fedil, were victims of psychological warfare. In 2003 some soldiers ordered him to dig up
damaged firearms supposedly buried in an area that the NPA used as a campsite. They said, “If I fit
into the hole, they would bury me there instead.” (Pag nagkasya ako [sa hukay] ako na lang raw ang
ipapasok doon.) In that same year, 25-year-old Felix was called in for questioning regarding the death
of an Army captain. A gun was aimed at his head in the course of the interrogation. Clearly dissatisfied
with the investigation, an officer of the 12th IB ransacked Felix’s house in search of firearms he never
found.
Others were tortured, especially after the Sambag ambush of 2003 which seemed to have particularly
enraged the military. Seventy-nine-year-old Agustin related how Army soldiers terrorized his then 16year-old grandson Joselito by hanging him upside down with his feet bound. The boy was falsely
accused of having concealed the body of a fallen NPA fighter. An Army officer warned Agustin that if
barangay officials learned of the incident, he would kill Agustin’s grandson. A young friend of Joselito,
Mercy, said that his trauma returned when the military returned to Lawig-an in December 2005. She
said: “He tried to kill himself by drinking poison.” (Siya ay nagtangkang magpakamatay sa
pamamagitan ng pag-inom ng lason.)
The family of 37-year-old Marcelina also suffered at the hands of the military. A soldier waved a bolo
over her head, making motions to decapitate her, while the others kicked her son in the chest and
roughly grabbed her husband’s face: “They told us that even if we were minced to the size of ants that
still wouldn’t pay for the lives that the NPA owed the Army.” (Sinabihan kami … na [kahit] tadtarin
[kami] ng pino tulad ng langgam ay di daw [namin mababayaran] ang buhay na utang ng NPA sa
Army.)
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Ronalinda, 43, said that oppressive military practices are not new. She recalled that in 1987, when
Corazon C. Aquino was president, the military labeled their entire sitio an NPA camp. She said soldiers
in helicopters sprayed scampering residents with urine while firing at them. After their houses were
razed to the ground and their animals stolen, their sitio was declared “No-Man’s Land” and residents
were forced to evacuate near the barangay center. Almost two decades after this grim incident,
Ronalinda decried current military harassment, such as children being accosted and badgered about
NPA activities, or soldiers entering homes without permission.
Thirty-two-year-old Daning added that soldiers do not hesitate to frighten or bully the children into
providing them the information they want. “The military tells the children, ‘If you don’t talk, we will
hunt your fathers down and kill them!’” (Ang sabi ng Army sa mga bata, “Pag di kayo nagsalita,
pupuntahan namin ang tatay nyo at papatayin!”) Parents also confirmed that their children are
frightened by the military, and as a rule, they hide in their homes when Army units are advancing into
the area, or when they hear helicopters overhead.
Another large ambush by the NPA in a nearby town in November 2005, in which there were 29
military casualties and none on the side of the NPA, again apparently infuriated the military. Residents
claimed that Army abuses again intensified in the wake of this incident. Military men ransacked homes
and stole rice, coffee, cooking utensils and even personal weapons used by farmers for hunting and
while watching their cattle. Since no one dared work in the fields because of the menacing presence of
Army men, their unharvested crops spoiled. Sabino remarked: “Of course our anxiety will not go away
as long as the military is here. Even our livelihood suffers because we are so afraid.” (Habang nandito
[ang militar] syempre hindi mawawala ang kaba. Apektado ang kabuhayan dahil sa takot.)
Giving support
Some villagers were very direct in describing how they feel when the NPA is in the area: self-assured,
calm, happy (panatag, mapayapa, maligaya). Fifty-two-year-old Martin asserted that the NPA played
an important role in putting up a school in Lantangan: “The NPA taught us how to approach the
government to demand for a school. The NPA didn’t build [the school] but they taught us how to get
it.” (Tinuruan kami ng mga NPA [kung] paano lumapit sa gobyerno para [humingi ng] paaralan.
Hindi ang NPA ang nagpatayo pero sila ang nagturo ng paraan kung paano ito makakamit.) At the
same time Martin cautioned that social services may have been provided as a means to allay civil
unrest: “Putting up a school is a way for government to deceive us into thinking that they are propeople. They [put up a school] so the people won’t rebel [against government].” ([Ang pagtatayo ng
paaralan] ay panlilinlang na maka-mamayan ang gobyerno. Pakitang tao nga lang ito ng gobyerno
para di magrebelde ang mga tao.)
Many residents also believe that the NPA has given them useful knowledge and skills. Romnick, 38
years old, said he benefited from the NPA’s literacy program: “I can read and write thanks to the help
of the NPA.” (Marunong akong magbasa at magsulat dahil sa tulong ng NPA.) Some villagers also
claimed that the NPA taught them contour farming to improve food production. Martin added that the
NPA helped alleviate their hunger and supplement their income by teaching them how to grow
bananas, coffee, and coconut aside from the usual root crops. “This is probably why the government is
after the NPA. They’re afraid that the Tumandoks will thrive, and become progressive and educated.”
(Ito siguro yung dahilan kung bakit hinahabol ng gobyerno ang NPA. Takot ang gobyerno na
umasenso, umunlad, at magka-alam ang Tumandok.) Moreover, said 40-year-old Jhun, the NPA raised
the people’s awareness of health and sanitation by teaching them how to make toilets and place them
away from sources of clean water. NPA medics also taught alternative ways of healing such as the use
of herbal medicine, acupuncture, and acupressure.
For many, however, the most significant contribution of the NPA has been to transform backward
ways. Vices such as gambling and adultery were ingrained in the ways of the older Tumandoks. By
helping curb these practices, the NPA eased strained family ties resulting from such bad habits. Lester
added that the NPA taught the younger generation the value of honesty and hard work: “The NPA
taught us to neither steal nor be envious …” (Tinuruan kami mismo ng NPA na huwag magnakaw,
huwag mainggit…)
Amancio affirmed that the community had known the NPA for a long time. He said, “And if we see
that they’re bad people, why would we support them up to now?” (At kung nakita naming masama sila,
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bakit pa kami susuporta hanggang ngayon?) Romnick explained: “The NPA wants to change the rotten
government which is why they endure intense armed conflict. This must be replaced by a government
without rich or poor… Tumandoks support and are part of the NPA’s struggle.” (Nais ng NPA na
palitan ang gobyernong bulok kaya ito dumadaan sa mainit na digmaan. Dapat itong palitan ng
gobyernong walang mayaman o mahirap… Suportado ng Tumandok at bahagi kami ng gyera ng NPA).
Myra: Determined to join
Myra is 16 years old and the eldest of 8 children. She comes from a poor family which, like others in
the community, relies on slash-and-burn farming for its subsistence. She is used to her family’s meager
circumstances: “If we don’t work, we won’t eat. After the harvest, we manage to eat three times a day.
Otherwise, we only have enough for two meals a day.” (Kung hindi ka nagbakas hindi ka makakakain.
Kung bagong ani, nakakakain ng tatlong beses [isang araw]. Kung hindi, dalawang beses lang.)
Myra was raised by her grandparents and only lived with her family when she was a little older. She
helps with household chores on weekends when she’s not in school: “I help with washing the dishes,
growing vegetables, and sometimes washing my grandmother’s clothes.” (Tumutulong ako sa
paghuhugas ng pinggan, paggugulay, at kung minsan sa paglalaba ng damit ni lola.) At 11 years old
she was already helping her father with farm work.
Even though life was hard for Myra’s family, her schooling was always a priority. During her early
elementary schooling she studied in a village an hour and a half’s walk from her home. She is in her
third year of high school and, despite intermittent fighting in her area, her schooling has never been
significantly disrupted. This is not to say that Myra has found it easy to survive in school. Since school
is far from home she stays with her aunt during school days and returns home only on weekends. Her
father gives her a little money whenever he can – P10 pesos to be stretched for a week’s expenses. She
doesn’t eat properly in school because she can only afford rice and salt for lunch.
Myra said she was five or six years old when NPA fighters started coming by their home. They didn’t
frighten her and, indeed, she grew fond of them: “I liked them very much. I used to ride on their
hammocks. Whenever I felt sick, they used the thermometer to check my temperature.” (Gustong gusto
ko sila. Sumasakay ako sa kanilang duyan. Pag may sakit ako, nilalagyan nila ako ng thermomer.)
Myra says she had so many questions for the NPA unit that frequented their home. In an effort to get
better acquainted with them, she asked for their names: “I still didn’t know that you weren’t supposed
to ask for their real names.” (Hindi ko pa alam na hindi pwedeng itanong ang tunay nilang pangalan.)
Undaunted, she continued to pepper them with questions.
“I wasn’t scared of them at all,” she said of the NPA while pointing out that, “Even as a child, I was
terrified of the military.” (Hindi ako natatakot sa kanila. Noong bata pa ako, ang kinatatakutan ko ay
ang army.) For some reason she did not like the way soldiers stared at her, or even their combat boots.
Once, when she was seven or eight years old, some soldiers entered their house asking for some
jackfruit. She and her younger siblings grew silent with fear because they knew their father had a gun
hidden under some sacks in their house. “When we saw that the soldiers weren’t looking, we ran as fast
as we could to the top of the hill.” (Nang makita naming nakatalikod ang army, kumaripas kami ng
takbo papunta sa taas ng burol.) Yet she welcomed the NPA into her home. She would help them with
their laundry, or watch the fire as they cooked in the kitchen. She said that she wanted to be part of the
NPA as early as when she was nine years old although she didn’t ask her father’s permission until she
was 13: “My father said, ‘There’s nothing I can do to stop you from joining the NPA. It’s also a correct
path.’” (Ang sabi ni tatay, ‘Anong magagawa ko kung gusto mong mag-NPA? Tamang landas din
yan.’”) Myra’s father understood because both his parents (Myra’s paternal grandparents) were also
NPA fighters at some point in their lives.
At 14, May’s understanding of the movement for social change deepened especially when she joined a
local youth organizing group: “It’s good to keep informed while you’re young. If you’re not organized
you’ll be lost – for instance, there’s a war going on and you wouldn’t know what it’s about.” (Mabuti
kasi yung kabataan ka at alam mo kung ano ang nangyayari. Kung hindi ka organisado, magtataka ka
nalang tulad nito – may gera sa mundong hindi mo alam.) Now that she’s almost 18, she plans to
continue helping the NPA and organizing youth in their barrio. May is still young and a little shy but
she is evidently driven by a strong sense of the justice and aware of the abuses wrought by the military
on many young people in the community, some of whom are May’s close friends. May has also
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experienced other minor instances of harassment. A soldier once came to their house to borrow a
cooking pot but May was about to cook rice and told the soldier as much. The soldier responded with a
sharp look and what May saw as a veiled threat: “Your comrades are lucky because you lend them your
things.” (Buti pa yung Ka pinapahiram ninyo.) May said that she will join the NPA as soon as she turns
18: “I’m really determined.” (Desidido na talaga ako.)
Sons and daughters fighting
Parents were asked about the NPA’s declared policy of accepting only youths 18 years of age and
above. The 66-year-old peasant Demetrio said: “At 18 they are able to think maturely already. If
they’re too young they may not be ready yet although it does depend on them and whether or not they
are sincere. At 18 they’re already of sound mind. But then even if children are children and they’re still
not yet 18, their right to join can’t be taken away from them.” (Kung 18 may mature na pag-iisip na
sila. Kung bata pa may di pa kahandaan pero depende na iyon sa kanila basta sincere sila. Dapat 18
dahil nasa tama nang pag-iisip. Dahil ang kabataan kahit bata pa, kahit di pa 18 di pwedeng konan ng
right na sumali.)
Some parents said that there are some circumstances which may leave the child no choice but to take
up arms against an abusive military. Erwin gave an example: “If you’re just 15 but the military killed
your parents… you’ll get angry. If you join the NPA and you’re accepted, then so be it.” (Maski 15 [pa
lang] kung pinatay ng military ang parents mo… galit ka. Kung papasok ka at tatanggapin ka, [sasapi]
ka.) Enrico, 44, supported Erwin’s argument by saying that the military is responsible if such youth
join the NPA: “The military anyway forced them to do that.” (Military din naman ang nagpwersa sa
kanila dun.)
Marcelina recalled that an Army soldier once told her son that if he joined the military he will receive a
salary, but that if he joined the NPA he wouldn’t get any. But she said that she would not stop her son
from joining the NPA because they have never abused her: “We have never experienced being hurt by
the NPA.” (Sa NPA hindi naming naranasang masaktan.) Forty-nine-year-old Ponciano of Capiz said
that, as a parent, he encouraged his child to be active in organizing in the community while waiting to
turn 18 and joining the NPA. He told him: “Do organizing work our village until you’re ready. The
time will come when you’ll be holding an Armalite (M-16).” (Kumilos ka muna sa barangay hanggang
handa ka na. Darating din ang panahon na magdadala ka ng Armalite.)
Reflecting on everything that has been said, Enrico said that peace remains an ideal. He believes that
given the conflicting interests of the masses and the government, the only way to resolve the people’s
difficulties is to go to war: “There is no other recourse but to fight.” (Wala tayong ibang lusot kundi
lumaban.) Sabino, some 60 years old, argued that legal avenues have been explored to solve their
problems but these had all proven futile. “We will not allow the NPA to be defeated because they are
our last defense.” (Di kami papayag na lusawin ang NPA dahil sila ang huli naming sandigan.)
Cruelties
The women of the community are familiar with the harmful effects of armed conflict. During military
operations following armed encounters, they say they go hungry because they can’t work in the fields
or gather food. Their children are temporarily forced to stop attending school and can’t help with
farming as well. The women dread being subjected to military abuses. There is the case of Rosa who
said that the military had picked on and arbitrarily tagged her family as NPA supporters because they
wanted to show that they were not intimidated by them. As a result she said she and her husband have
been unable to till their land for two years out of fear of being exposed targets for the military. It even
got to the point that they felt the need to change the red color of their house just so they wouldn’t
attract the military’s attention: “I even borrowed money just so we could repaint the house.”
(Nangutang ako para palitan ang pintura ng aking bahay.)
Veda, 48, recounted how Army soldiers are unrelenting in trying to prove the truth of their suspicions:
“I saw how they interrogated my brother. If you are weak, you could go insane because [the military]
asks their questions over and over until you’re no longer able to respond.” (Nakita ko kung paano nila
inimbestigahan ang aking kapatid. Kung mahina ka lang parang mababaliw ka o masisiraan ng ulo
dahil paulit-ulit ka nilang tinatanong hanggang wala ka nang maisagot.)
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There were also respondents who apparently felt a seething anger and related several incidents where
the military allegedly affronted their dignity as women. They mentioned a case of alleged rape by an
Army commanding officer by the name of Ledesma. He supposedly raped the sister of a barangay
captain in Lawig-an and seduced a few women, single and married alike. Helen, a mother of five,
shared her experience in 1993 when an army officer frequented her house for six months, telling her
that he was fond of her and convincing her to leave her husband for him: “I was insulted because even
if he knew I had children, he persisted in wooing me.” (Binastos ako dahil kahit alam niyang may mga
anak na ako ay patuloy pa rin siya sa panliligaw.) Glenis says she has always been wary of Army
soldiers because a niece of hers is in the awful situation of being the kept woman of a married soldier:
“A soldier named Brad visits her only to satisfy his lust. If my niece refuses to sleep with him, he gets
drunk and starts firing his gun.” (Pinupuntahan siya ng military na si Anduque at ginagawang
parausan lang. Kung ayaw [ng pamangkin ko] ay nagpapakalasing si Brad at nagpapaputok ng baril.)
Forty-five-year-old Mely, a mother of ten, declared that she never wants any of her relatives to get
married to an Army soldier: “They do nothing but drink, and when they get drunk, they talk about their
exploits with women.” (Wala silang ginawa kundi uminom ng alak, at kung lasing na ay kinukwento
nila ang karanasan nila sa mga babae.) Rina and Hedda also recounted instances of indecent behavior
by some soldiers. They said that military men bathing in the stream do not bother to cover their
nakedness, disregarding the sensibilities of the women passing by or doing their laundry nearby. On the
subject of disrespect, Mely added that soldiers once invited themselves to live in their home for two
weeks. Glenis recalled that a soldier once entered her bedroom to charge his cellphone without asking
her permission: “I got mad because he went straight into our bedroom.” (Nagalit ako dahil dumeretso
siya sa aming kwarto.) They said the insolence also includes the military’s disregard for their
livelihood. Veda says, “If they pass through our fields, they’re like carabaos [that] trample on our
crops.” (Kung dadaan sila sa aming taniman o palayan, dadaan sila na parang kalabaw [at]
tinatapakan nila ang mga pananim.) The women also suspected the military of stealing their farm
animals especially goats and chickens. They said that their barangay captain reported their suspicions
to a local radio station which supposedly helped minimize such incidents.
Domestic difficulties
Before the 1970s and prior to the emergence of the NPA in the area, the older women women described
their household chores as grueling: “It’s difficult. You have to wake up very early to prepare food for
your children before they go to school, do the laundry, work in the fields, come back at noon to serve
food …” (Mahirap. Maagang maaga pa ay dapat gumising para maghanda ng pagkain ng mga anak
sa pagpasok sa eskwelahan, maglaba, pumunta sa bukid, umuwi sa tanghali at maghain ng pagkain... )
Hedda put it more succinctly: “The menfolk looked and treated women as slaves.” (Ang pagkilala o
pagtrato ng mga kalalakihan sa mga babae ay parang alipin.) Veda details the consequences of
machismo: “If you are a woman, you cannot talk back to a man. If the man refuses to go to work, you
cannot question or harangue him because he is superior.” (Kung ikaw ay babae, hindi ka pwedeng
sumagot sa mga lalaki. Kung hindi [nagtatrabaho] ang lalaki, hindi ka pwedeng magtanong o
pagsabihan sila dahil sila ang “pumapatong”)
Veda is grateful for the coming of the NPA because she believes they revolutionized the status of
women by teaching the menfolk about the equality of the sexes: “[The men] were taught that women
should be treated as equals in daily life and in the struggle.” (Tinuruan sila na ang mga babae ay dapat
maging kabalikat sa pamumuhay at sa pakikibaka rin.) Even so, they said there are still cases, though
now rare, of marital abuse. Berta mentioned the case of a man with two wives who was caught by an
NPA fighter in the act of banging his wives’ heads together. When the NPA fighter asked him what he
was doing, he said he was just entertaining himself. Berta said: “The comrades told him that what he
was doing was wrong.” (Pinuna siya ng mga kasama.)
Transformations
The women believe that the NPA brought about many good changes in their community. Said Veda:
“When the NPA arrived our lives changed.” (Nang dumating ang mga NPA ay binago ang aming
buhay.) The menfolk used to spend so much time in cockfights and some had more than one wife, she
added. The NPA taught them to form mutual aid groups and to diversify their crops. Because of the
farming techniques they learned, they were able to produce more food and even started making profits
from their harvest. Mely affirms: “Our lives prospered. Our earnings increased with the help of the
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NPA.” (Umunlad ang kabuhayan namin. Nadagdagan ang aming income nang dumating ang NPA.)
When it comes to their health, the women appreciate being treated by the NPA rather than by city
doctors whose clinics are far from their barangays. Veda is thankful that she was taught how to use
herbal medicines. Whenever she falls ill, she wishes the NPA were around: “When I get sick I ask
myself, ‘where are the comrades?’” (Kung ako’y nagkakasakit, sinasabi ko, “Nasaan ba ang mga
kasama?”) The midwife only comes once a month so the local traditional birth attendant or hilot
typically delivers babies in the community.
The NPA also supposedly taught the women how to provide assistance in giving birth and gave advice
on how to rear their infants. However, the women are still undecided on the issue of contraception.
Mely said she stopped taking birth control pills because it led to kidney problems. Injectable
contraceptives don’t work for her either, as she often feels faint and experiences body pains especially
while working in the fields. Mely jokes, I think I’ll just keep giving birth so that [the NPA’s] ranks will
grow!” (Sabi ko manganganak nalang ako nang manganganak para maraming sasali sa hukbo!)
The women also expressed their gratitude to the NPA for introducing more progressive ways of
thinking to their community. They recalled the practice of binukot which was prevalent among
Tumandok families. In this cultural practice, a daughter is chosen by a family to live in relative
isolation from the outside world. She is not allowed to work under the heat of the sun so that her skin
will remain soft and smooth and so that her complexion will not darken. Her other siblings are tasked
to see to her every need, such as preparing her meals, fetching water for her bath, and washing her
clothes. When the time comes for this binukot to marry, the family expects to receive a big dowry for
her. Dalisa says that her sister Miray was a binukot, but her marriage failed because her husband was
eventually peeved by how Miray did not know household chores, much less help him with farming.
With the coming of the NPA and their patient explanation of, among others, how the rights of the
binukot daughter needed to be respected, this impractical and extravagant custom eventually
disappeared. The women were also proud to say that their children will never have to endure meeting
filial obligations by agreeing to an arranged marriage: “Children have rights. Their parents can no
longer dictate whom they should marry.” (May karapatan na ang mga bata. Hindi na sila pwedeng
diktahan ng mga magulang kung sino ang kanilang magiging asawa.) Veda said the NPA played a big
role in the change: “They taught children how to communicate their feelings to their parents.”
(Tinuruan ang kabataan kung paano makipag-dialogue sa magulang.)
Despite their past experiences, the women said they have tried to ease their apprehensions over the
military and live normally. They recalled how in the early 1980s, when the dreaded units of the then
Philippine Constabulary (PC) patrolled their area, their fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons used to
hide in the forest for fear of being executed. The women meanwhile stayed in their homes: “We
couldn’t leave our houses because if we did, [the military] would burn our houses.” (Kailangan may
tao sa bahay dahil kung wala, susunugin ito.) More recently, upon the NPA’s advice, they have
devised a system of going to their fields in groups to lessen the risk of being accosted individually and
harassed by the military. Hedda also appreciated the NPA’s emphasis on the value of collective effort
over individual action, which is a constant reminder that they have to look out for each other: “Animals
that are the property of others become your responsibility as well. Someone else’s child is like your
own.” (Kung hayop ng iba, parang hayop mo na rin iyon. Kung [anak] ng iba, para mo na ring
[anak].) And when the situation has called for it the women – so as not to place their husbands at risk –
have negotiated with the military.
A continuing struggle
Veda remains both frightened and angry at the recent abuses of the military. She asserted: “I cannot be
content knowing that our rights are being violated. Why is [the military] killing the NPA? They are the
only ones who help us and who teach us what is right… The Army is like the government’s lap-dog.
Laws don’t favor the poor.” (Hindi ako kumporme na niyuyurakan ang aming karapatan. Bakit nila
pinapatay ang NPA? Sila lang ang tumutulong sa amin at nagtuturo kung ano ang wasto... Ang Army
ay parang aso ng gobyerno. Ang mga batas ay hindi pabor sa mahihirap.) In the residents’ eyes, the
government has come up with incongruous responses to their need for basic social services. Gemma,
30, in turn questioned the move of the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) to
plant hardwood trees in their farmlands. Sabino agrees: “What will we do with lumber? It’s rice that we
eat.” (Aanhin naming ang kahoy? Palay ang kinakain namin.) Another said: “We are angry at the
171
government because our lands will be used for grazing cattle owned by the rich.” (Galit kami sa
gobyerno dahil…ang aming lupain ay gagawing pastulan ng mga baka ng mayayaman.) Glenis
stressed that, “The Tumandoks join the NPA precisely because of the land problem.” (Sumali ang
Tumandok sa NPA dahil sa problema sa lupa.)
Even as mothers, the women recognize that their children can play a role in the struggle for social
change: “Bring letters, give the comrades information about the enemy, bring them food…”
([Magahatid] ng sulat, ipasa sa mga kasama ang impormasyon tungkol sa kaaway, hatiran ng
pagkain…) This can even extend to joining the armed struggle. Mely said, “If a child of mine decides
to join the NPA, I will be happy because the masses have no other army besides the NPA.” (Kung
mayroon akong anak [na sasali sa NPA], matutuwa ako dahil walang sundalo ang masa…kundi ang
NPA.) Lomel, 29, added, “If the military doesn’t stop accusing us of being NPA, I won’t wait for my
children to grow up [for them to be able to join the NPA]. I’ll join the NPA myself!” (Kung hindi titigil
ang military sa pamimintang na kami ay NPA, hindi ko na hihintayin na [lumaki] pa ang aking mga
anak [upang makasapi sila sa NPA]. Ako na mismo ang sasali sa NPA!) At one point the participants
agreed that violence should be understood as part of what it aims to bring about, and that even death
should not be feared if it helps bring about social change. Hedda said: “I wish to change the system
even if it means sacrificing one’s life.” (Hangad kong baguhin ang sistema, buhay man ang ialay.)
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LEYTE
The Eastern Visayas region is made up of two major island groups: Leyte and Samar. The region is
divided into six provinces: Leyte, Southern Leyte, Biliran, Samar, Eastern Samar, and Northern Samar.
The region is the country’s top producer of abaca, and the third largest producer of coconuts.
The respondents for the study were from a community in the province of Northern Leyte that straddles
the boundary of three barangays: Pintugan, Abuyod, Badigang. The area is composed of agricultural
land, forests and some swampy areas and pasture lands. Its major crops are rice, coconut and abaca.
The eastern side is a long mountainous stretch.
Health services are severely limited. Seriously-ill patients have to be brought to the provincial hospital
which is a difficult walk of over two hours. There are no clinics even in nearby barangays. Every three
months, a midwife visits to bring medicines which are endorsed to the care of the barangay captain.
There is a nearby health center in the next town which also serves as a venue for barrio meetings.
Those afflicted with common ailments are brought there to be healed with herbal medicines. The
midwife also reportedly administers vaccines aside from delivering babies.
There is a primary school in the village offering grades one through six, although there are only three
teachers who handle all grade levels with one of them even teaching all subjects in two grade levels.
On the other hand, the elementary school in the nearest town has six teachers with one teacher per
grade level. The subjects taught are English, Filipino, Science, Math, and HEKASI (Heograpiya,
Kasaysayan, Sibika [Geography, History, Civics]). Parents and the children say that at least there is an
adequate supply of books for all the students.
Political killings
The Eastern Visayas region has, in the last few years, seen some of the highest numbers of documented
cases of human rights violations allegedly related to the administration’s counter-insurgency and “antiterrorism” campaign. These include the extra-judicial killings of leaders and activists accused of being
members of CPP or NPA “front organizations”. Civilians in the communities have also been beaten,
threatened and harassed by the military, forcing hundreds to flee for their lives.
Respondents say that military deployments and attacks on civilians intensified in 2003. In that year
there were 17 documented incidents of human rights violations including nine alleged summary
executions and another 15 cases of physical assault on civilians suspected of supporting the NPA.8 In
2004, 28 incidents were documented (including two alleged summary executions and a case of physical
assault). In 2005 there were 30 incidents documented (including 13 alleged summary executions and
ten cases of physical assault). For the whole period 2001-2005, 138 incidents were documented,
including 27 alleged summary executions and 45 cases of physical assault. All these were allegedly
perpetrated by state forces, in particular the military.
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Table 15: Monitored Armed Confrontations Between The New People's Army and Government Forces - Leyte Province
KILLED
DATE
Incidents
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
1
1
2
2
3
NPA
WOUNDED
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
4
9
2
-
1
6
1
6+
3
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
3
3
CAPTURED
CIVILIAN
NPA
-
2
6
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
-
-
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The incidents in 2005 mostly occurred during the assignment to Leyte of then Brigadier General Jovito
Palparan, Jr. whom human rights groups had earlier dubbed the “Butcher of Mindoro”. He is accused
of being responsible for more than 50 political killings in Mindoro Island when he was commanding
officer of government troops there. Certainly, Gen. Palparan’s public statements threatening even
civilians have been controversial. In a media forum, Express It At The Park, on March 5, 2005, for
example, he reportedly declared his intention “to end up (sic) anti-government rallies in Samar Island
within six months.” He further stated: “It should be complete. [This means] clearing – they should be
entirely gone – completely, using the fastest means available. We should fix this in the shortest time…
[The leaders] are targeted first, because they’re the ones who start all the trouble.” (It should be
complete. Clearing – dapat mawala sila talaga – completely rito at the fastest means available. So sa
pinakamaiksing panahon na pwede natin maayos ito… [Ang mga lider] ang inuuna, kasi sila ang
pasimuno ng gulo.)
He also added: “There should be no more political activities like demonstrations, organizing people,
deceiving people, [and] joining NGOs that we know are really not what they seem.” (Wala na dapat
mga political activities like demonstrations, pag-oorganisa ng mga tao, panloloko sa tao, sumama sa
mga NGO na alam naman natin na wala naman talagang iyan.) Elsewhere, during a public meeting in
Tacloban City, Leyte, Gen. Palparan reportedly announced that the military would be abducting one
peasant activist every month from so-called “NPA-infested” barrios, also saying: “I’m sorry that we
have to do this one-by-one clearing and neutralizing in our barrios. We have to do this because if we
don’t separate the rotten apples, all the rest will rot as well.” (Pasensya na kayo sa paisa-isang
kinukuha at ninunyutralisa natin sa mga baryo. Kailangan nating gawin iyon dahil kung hindi natin
inaalis ang paisa-isang bulok na mansanas ay mabubulok ang lahat.)
Coinciding with these pronouncements were violent attacks on, and assassinations of leaders and
members of Left-leaning organizations such as Bayan Muna, Gabriela, and Anakpawis. Among the
prominent victims have been Atty. Felidito C. Dacut, a human rights lawyer, Bayan Muna Party-list
regional coordinator and member of the Board of Directors of the Integrated Bar of the Philippines
(IBP-Leyte) who was shot dead in Tacloban City on March 14, 2005. Another was Rev. Edison C.
Lapuz, a Protestant United Church of Christ in the Philippines (UCCP) Conference Minister,
chairperson of the Eastern Visayas human rights alliance Katungod-SB and founding member of the
Promotion of Church People’s Response (PCPR), who was shot dead on May 12, 2005 in San Isidro,
Leyte together with Alfredo Malinao, leader of KAMAS (a local farmers’ group).
Aside from these, Katungod-SB says they have received reports – albeit not always fully documented –
of over 520 cases of violations of constitutional rights and civil liberties across Eastern Samar in just
2005. These include killings, physical assault, harassment, abduction, torture, destruction of property,
illegal search and others.
Accused and threatened
The children participating in the FGD talked about their experiences vis-à-vis armed conflict. A
common experience among the children was their families’ or they themselves’ being accused by the
military or barangay officials of being members of the NPA. In 14-year-old Mike’s case, it was the
barangay captain who scared his family into moving out of their village because he alleged that
everyone in their family was a member of the NPA. In the case of Raya, 13, a neighbor accused her
father of being an NPA member. Her mother’s cousin, who belongs to the paramilitary CAFGU
advised them to go into hiding in Manila “to stay away from trouble” (para makaiwas sa gulo).
Meanwhile, 18-year-old Cesar related that he was falsely implicated in an NPA raid on a military
camp: “I was accused of being part of the NPA [unit] that raided a military [detachment] on February
14, at five in the morning. During those hours, I was still at home sleeping. It was even the sound of
gunshots that woke me up. They also accused me of being the leader of [a youth organization]. They
really picked on me, to the point that they wanted me dead.” (Pinagbintangan nila ako na kasama ng
mga NPA na nag-raid sa mga militar noong Pebrero 14, alas-5 ng umaga. Sa mga oras na iyon nasa
bahay ako, tulog pa ako. Ginising na lang ako [ng mga] putok. Pinagbintangan din nila ako na lider
ng mga kabataan. Pinaginitan nila ako nang husto, at humantong sa gusto nila akong patayin.)
Young as these children are, they are thus only too familiar with the armed conflict between the
military and the NPA. Ten-year-old Temy recalled, “I was with Nanay (mother) and Tatay (father)
when an encounter took place near the farm. I was nine years old then.” (Kasama [ko] si Nanay at
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Tatay noong may labanan sa bukid. Nine years old ako nun.) Mike also recalled the first time he heard
fighting: “I was planting bananas with my uncle when we heard a loud explosion. I hid in the big house
because I got scared. I was in GradeTwo then. That night, the shooting took place. My uncle wanted to
let the NPA into the house but Nanay (mother) refused.” (May narinig [ako habang] kasama ang tiyo
nagtanim ng saging. Malakas pero malayo kami, tapos [pumunta] kami sa malaking bahay [dahil]
natakot ako… Grade 2 ako noon. Gabi na nang [mangyari] ang putukan. [Gustong] papasukin ng tiyo
ko ang NPA, di pumayag si nanay.)
Many children and their families are unnerved at the first sign of nearby fighting. Carl, 17, says that
even though the fighting takes place in the outskirts of their community, residents are always
frightened: “When the fighting erupts, people hide in their homes.” ([Pag] nagkakagulo ang mga tao
nagtago sa bahay.) But seven-year-old Edong, either used to fighting or more likely too young to grasp
the possible dangers, said.: “I wasn’t scared when I heard the shots. I was playing outside our house.”
(Hindi [ako] natakot noong may putukan. Naglalaro [ako] sa labas ng bahay.)
Either way, the children try to maintain normalcy in their daily lives in spite of any abnormal
conditions they find themselves in. For instance, Raya said, “In 2005, the shooting began at six in the
morning. After the fighting, we still went to school.” ([Iyong] putukan [noong] 2005 nangyari ng alas6 [ng umaga]. Pagkatapos ng labanan, pumasok kami sa school.)
Carl said there have been several incidents of firefights in their area in the last few years. He claimed
that he has always been far from the fighting which usually lasts from one to three hours. He said that
will never forget the day he witnessed soldiers harshly questioning his stepfather: “Once, the military
and the NPA had an encounter near the barangay center. Two hours after [the shooting], the soldiers
entered the barrio and forced their way into all the houses, searching every corner because they said
there were guns in the houses. The military took my stepfather’s shotgun which he uses for hunting.
[They questioned my stepfather], investigating him then and there. They wanted to know where he got
the gun and whether he was an NPA member. The soldiers kept shouting at him until they finally called
for the barangay captain who confirmed that the gun really belonged to my stepfather…” (Nagbarilan
ang NPA at Army malapit lang sa sentro ng baranggay. Mga 2 oras pagkatapos, pumasok [ang mga]
sundalo sa baryo, pinasok ng sapilitan lahat ng bahay, hinalungkat [ang] mga sulok-sulok [dahil]
meron daw mga baril. [Iyong] stepfather [ko] may shotgun pang hayop, kinuha ng Army. Doon nagusap, inimbestigahan kung saan nakuha ang baril at baka NPA daw sya. Sinigaw-sigawan [siya] ng
sundalo, tapos pinatawag ang kapitan. Pinaliwanag ng kapitan na kanya talaga iyon… )
Eleven-year-old Benjie recounted, “My friend and I jumped into a ravine because some soldiers were
running after us. We had just picked some guavas. But they didn’t catch up with us and we hid in our
homes.” (Tumalon kaming dalawa ng kaibigan ko sa bangin kasi hinabol kami ng mga army galing
kami namitas ng bayabas. Pero hindi kami naabutan tapos nagtago kami sa bahay namin.) “The
following day, around noon, soldiers arrived in our community. One of them handed me a gun which I
put down because they were laughing at me.” (Kinabukasan, tanghali yon, dumating ang mga army sa
lugar namin tapos pinahawak ako ng baril tapos nilapag ko kasi pinagtawanan nila ako.) Another
time, Benjie said, “[My friends and I] were bathing in the river and a group of over 20 soldiers passed
by. They started throwing stones at us and hit our feet. They said we were a bunch of fools, so we
started running. They just laughed at us.” ([N]aligo kami sa ilog, [tapos] dumaan ang mga army
mahigit 20 sila. Bigla kaming binato [at] tinamaan kami sa paa. Kasi sabi nila para kaming mga baliw
kaya tumakbo kami pauwi. Tapos tinawanan kami.) Shortly after that incident, he said the soldiers
came to their house looking for his father and sister: “They said that my older sister Precy is an NPA
fighter.” (Sabi nila hukbo daw si Ate Precy.) His family eventually decided to leave: “We left for
Badigang and, not long after, moved to Manila. Even now that we’re in Manila, [the military] is still
looking for us.” (Pumunta kami sa Baybay, [at] hindi nagtagal pumunta kami ng Maynila. Kahit
andito na kami sa Maynila hinahanap pa rin kami.)
Under threat
The women of the community believe that since the military presence intensified after 2000, the Army
has made no efforts to discriminate between NPA fighters and civilians: “Just one look at you and
you’re dead even if you’re a civilian.” (Isang tingin lang, patay ka kahit sibilyan.)
176
In September 2001, the military raided an NPA camp in the area. The locals helped carry wounded
NPA fighters down from the mountain which earned them the military’s ire. In 2002, military
detachments were put up in and around their community. The following year, the NPA ambushed a
military unit traveling along the highway. The military blamed the residents for not informing them
that the NPA was in the area and even accused them of digging foxholes for the group. In early 2005,
the military raided an NPA camp but sustained more losses than the NPA – and residents think that this
made the soldiers vengeful. Some civilians were supposedly killed when their houses were strafed.
Throughout the rest of the year, residents said, incidents of military abuse mounted. After a community
gathering in November, two siblings who were both full-time community organizers and their niece
were reportedly killed. In December, a farmer was beaten because the military said he was an NPA
supporter. The military also rounded up residents and ordered them not to go up the mountains because
they were just bringing food to the NPA. This prevented them from harvesting the crops from their
upland farms.
The residents said that the military has a list of community residents identified as NPA supporters or
members. In April 2005, some men from the community who were allegedly on the list left for Manila,
leaving their families behind. One of the wives, 43-year-old Bella, said, “I thought we were out of
danger when my husband left. But a cousin who belongs to the CAFGU told us to leave because [of the
military’s plans to raid our house]. He said we were all going to be killed.” ([Akala] ko ligtas na dahil
wala na ang asawa ko. Pero nagpunta ang pinsan kong CAFGU, alis daw kami dahil i-raid ang bahay.
Patayin kami lahat.) In the second half of 2005, not only the families of these men evacuated to Manila
and its surrounding provinces; so did many others.
Ligaya, 49, said that she was so frantic leaving that she ended up on a bus to Manila instead of going to
Mindanao as she had planned. Bella says it was definitely not part of her plans to leave Leyte. She said,
“My husband wants revenge. He wants to kill those who did this to us. Our copra farm was taken away
from us. My children had to stop schooling and support themselves. Our situation was so much better
then.” (Ang asawa ko gusto magganti. Patayin ang may gawa. Ang mga koprasan namin hindi na nila
binigay. Ang mga anak ko, naghinto ang pag-aaral. Self-supporting na. Maganda ang kalagayan
namin noon.) Bella said that the military even barred them from working in their own farms: “[The
military] told us to surrender our firearms first, but we are unarmed. We just own bolos for clearing
grass.” (Sabi nila, uwi muna kami at yung mga armas namin, isurrender. Wala naman kaming armas,
itak lang. Pantabas ng damo.)
For some of the women, it was their husbands’ affiliation with the party-list group Bayan Muna which
proved to be dangerous. In Ligaya’s case, this was the reason she and her husband left for Manila in a
hurry without even saying goodbye to their children who were in school at the time – her husband
feared that he was on the military’s hit list. She said that it’s a pity their children’s schooling was
disrupted and they can no longer afford to let them continue with their high school education. Before
they felt compelled to leave, her husband worked as a fish dealer and earned enough to support their
children through school. Now, she said, “I’ve grown sick with worry.” (Nagkasakit ako dito dahil sa
pag-aalala.) Lucy said her husband was a friend of a prominent local lawyer, a known Bayan Muna
supporter, who was recently killed.
Because of the threat that the military poses to their lives, the women are not prepared to go back home
to their communities and families. Delia said, “What we want is for the military to leave.” (Ang gusto
namin ay mapaalis ang militar.) Lucy added, “If possible, I hope the military can be persuaded not to
believe in rumors that we are part of the NPA… If not for the [informers in the barangay], we wouldn’t
have been implicated in this””Kung maaari kausapin ang mga militar na huwag maniwala sa tsismistsimis na kabilang [kami] sa NPA. Kung hindi dahil sa taga-barangay, hindi kami pag-iinitan.) Bella
agreed that the military’s informers have compromised her family’s safety and she said she will go
home only if the people in her community tell her it is safe to return. Roselyn, 19, likewise blamed
military spies for their present situation. She said, “The military wouldn’t know a thing if only the
neighbors had kept their mouths shut.” ([W]ala namang alam ang militar kung hindi nagsasabi ang
mga kapitbahay.) Lumen on the other hand said the military is to blame: “It doesn’t matter how many
people tell the military that this or that farmer helped the NPA [because] there’s no fault by the
farmer.” ([K]ahit ilang tao ang magsabi na may magsasakang tinulungan ang NPA, hindi naman
kasalanan ng magsasaka.)
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According to these women, their entire community is treated harshly for being presumed to be a hotbed
of NPA supporters and members. Civilians are forced by the military to identify the whereabouts of the
NPA and report the group’s movements to them. They related the case of Rico, a 27-year-old rebel
returnee who was released by barangay officials after he completed the paperwork pertaining to his
legal status. He was escorted home by the barangay tanod or security officers, and some military men.
When they were a short distance from Rico’s home, the military asked the barangay tanod to go home.
The next thing the community residents knew, they said, Rico was dead of stab wounds. Eileen, 39,
related that she was also asked by the military to surrender even if she was not a member of the NPA.
Delia explained: “Even if one is a civilian, if you live in the mountains you are asked to surrender.”
(Noon kahit sibilyan basta galing sa bundok, pinapapasurrender.)
Gena, 35, said the military grew suspicious of her husband because he was always in the mountains.
But she explained that he has to look after their carabaos and horses in their upland farm. Once, he ran
into the military on his way home. They forced him to walk with them as they patrolled the area. He
refused, according to Gena, and said: “You should go by yourselves because you’re armed. I’m a
civilian.” (Kayo lang ang magpunta doon dahil kayo lang ang may armas. Sibilyan man ako.) They
pointed an M-16 at his chest and asked him to take them to his farm. The military spotted a sack of rice
and insisted that a gun was hidden inside it although they didn’t find anything. Then they asked Gena’s
husband to dig under a hut, saying he might have buried firearms there; again, they found nothing.
After all these they slaughtered his chickens and cooked his rice. Then they tied his hands behind his
back and rolled him down a rocky hill. After all this they warned him that he had better be at home
whenever they came around to check. Gena said her husband was traumatized by what happened – he
grew very restless and couldn’t sleep at night.
The women also claimed that the military does not respect their property. Delia said soldiers stole her
family’s carabao: “They took it, but it’s not theirs. They sold it, but it’s not theirs.” (Ninakaw, di naman
kanila yon e. Binenta, di naman kanya yon e.) Some said their houses were vandalized by the military.
They also said that the military has no respect for their dignity as women. Delia herself was raped by a
government soldier in 1988. She was 27 years old then, and already married. Some people wanted to
testify against her rapist, but feared for their lives when they were threatened. The women say that
whenever there are military operations in their area, the soldiers order them around. Ligaya said, “They
ask us to get them palm wine or buy them some fish.” (Magpakuha sila ng tuba, magpabili ng isda.)
Delia says she was ordered by a soldier to open a can of sardines and cook noodles: “I [told my father]
‘Why can’t he do it himself’? My father said, ‘Don’t you see who he is? He’s a soldier.’” (Sabi ko bakit
pa magutos kaya naman nya. Sabi ng tatay ko, “Di mo ba nakikita kung sino sya? Sundalo sya.”)
Bella acknowledged that the military sometimes has projects supposedly to help the community. They
help clean up and give free medicines. They also arrange civil weddings for unmarried couples in the
community. However she said some of these initiatives were self-serving and sometimes impractical.
For example, they decided to put up a sentry in every purok to better monitor the comings and goings
of the NPA. But Bella said, “They let civilians guard the post while they sleep.” (Sibilyan ang
pinagbabantay nila, sila natutulog.) She added, “You know, the farmers complain. They come home
from work tired then they still have to guard [the purok] at night. They can’t work the next day.” (Alam
mo yung mga magsasaka, nagrereklamo. Pagod sila galing sa trabaho tapos magbabantay pa sa gabi.
Di na makatrabaho kinabukasan.)
Lumen said the military usually stays in the community for a month. Bella said they don’t build a camp
and instead sleep in the health center. Once, she related, some community residents were summoned by
the military to an interrogation in the barangay hall: “They played loud music so the screams wouldn’t
be heard. [People] were then beaten.” (Nagpapatugtog ng malakas para di marinig ang sigaw. Tapos
binubugbog.) Lumen recalled that late one night, soldiers made their way to the mountains, passing
through the village. The military turned the streetlights off so the residents wouldn’t be able to see how
many they were and tell the NPA.
In November 2003, Lumen was pregnant with her second child. She said three military men had been
making the rounds in the community and that their house was under surveillance, making her very
anxious. One night, while she was lying in bed, someone crept into her bedroom and tugged at her
mosquito net. She closed her eyes, expecting the worst, but the man stopped because she was lying on
the edge of the mosquito net and it wouldn’t open. She silently watched the man walk away through the
kitchen. Lumen said, “I couldn’t scream. I noticed that since then, my baby had stopped moving. I was
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shocked. They say I should have shouted so [the tension] wouldn’t go to the baby.” (Hindi ako
nakasigaw. Napansin ko, mula noon hindi na gumalaw ang bata sa tiyan ko. Na-shock ako. Sabi nila,
dapat daw sumigaw ako para hindi sa bata napunta.) When Lumen went to the health center, she was
told that her baby was dead, and she was brought to a hospital in Tacloban to have the fetus removed.
While she was away her husband said the house was broken into three more times. Lumen said they
were probably being monitored because she was a human rights activist.
Abuses of power
For the children and youth, the military presence has been accompanied by abuse of power including
outright physical assault. Sixteen-year-old Jerick said: “Our [family’s] experience with war is of abuse
like the mauling of my brother and relatives, which is why we moved [to Manila].” (Ang aming
karanasan na dulot ng gera ay pang-aabuso tulad ng pang-gugulpi sa kapatid ko at kamag-anak namin
kaya napunta kami rito.) Carl, 17, added, “Our experience of war is of the army’s cruelty and they are
abusive… not just to [my family] but to my classmates as well.” (Ang aming karanasan sa panahon ng
gera ay ang pagmamalupit ng mga army at [ang] ganitong pang-aabuso[ay]… hindi lang sa amin pati
na sa mga kamag-aral namin.) Benjie went so far as to say that he thinks the military wants to kill his
whole family. Even 17-year-old Joyet lamented: “My relatives – grandfather and grandmother, uncle,
and cousins – have been severely battered during the war. The abusive military shattered all our
hopes.”
Cesar and his 10-year-old cousin Samuel recounted how they become afraid during hostilities. Samuel
said, “Once, the military raided [an NPA encampment] because someone informed the army of its
location. The informer’s name was Josep. Army soldiers were killed and another was wounded. I was
afraid that we’d be killed [if caught in the crossfire].” ([Minsan] may putukan sa amin kasi ni-raid ng
mga army ang mga NPA kasi may nagturo sa mga army... ang pangalan sa nagturo ay si Josep. May
namatay sa army, may sugatan din, isa. Natakot [ako] baka mapatay, matamaan ng baril.) Cesar
continued, “After the raid the soldiers brought the bodies of the military to the barrio. I was sitting near
our school when they arrived. I was terrified because they accused me of being a leader of a youth
organization that they said was involved in the deaths of the soldiers. I’ll never forget this because I
was so afraid they would kill me.” (Noong natapos ang raid dinala ng militar ang patay sa baryo.
Pagdating nila, nasa kanto ng paaralan ako nakaupo. Sobrang takot ko sa mga oras na iyon kasi
binintang nila sa akin na lider ng kabataan at kasama sa pagpatay. Ito ang kasaysayan ko na hindi
malimutan natakot ako dahil patayin nila ako.)
Like many children in these affected communities, Temy’s fear of the military comes from experiences
with soldiers’ harming civilians such as his father. “The military attacked my father and cousin around
the time of fighting between the soldiers and NPA. They were on their way home when they were
seized by soldiers and manhandled, hit in the stomach with rifle butts. I was scared that they might kill
Tatay (father)!” ([Ang] tatay at pinsan [ko] binugbog ng army noong [nagkaroon ng] labanan ang
sundalo at NPA. Pag-uwi nila tatay, dinakip ng army, binugbog,‘ginumbol’ (sinaksak ng butt ng
mahabang baril sa tiyan)… Natakot [ako na] baka patayin si Tatay!). Since then, whenever soldiers
are camped near their elementary school, Temy has been afraid that they might attack his family again.
Because of such incidents, children are tense and always expect the worst in chance meetings with the
military. Raya recounted: “So many soldiers suddenly arrived [in our farm in the mountains], and ate
lunch there. They talked to my mother. We were so scared of what they might do to us. It’s good they
didn’t do anything and eventually left.” (May biglang dumating na mga army, ang dami nila, doon sila
nananghalian sa amin. Tapos kinausap nila ang nanay ko. Natakot kaming lahat baka anong gawin
nila sa amin. Buti nalang walang ginawa tapos umuwi na sila.)
Interrupted schooling, disrupted farming
The children value their studies and are deeply affected whenever their schooling is disturbed by armed
conflict. Benjie said, “We don’t go to school when there’s ongoing shooting because we might get hit.”
(Kung may putukan hindi po kami papasok sa iskul. Baka matamaan ng baril.) Some children like Vic,
7, do not attend classes even when there is no fighting. He said, “As long as the military is in the big
house near our school, I don’t go to school.” (Hindi pa ako papasok sa iskul kung may militar… sa
malaking bahay malapit sa school namin.) Temy said he makes it a point to attend class everyday
except when the military is in their village. There are those like Samuel, however, who do continue
going to school because they say the soldiers are just loitering (nakatambay lang kasi sila).
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But it is being displaced from Leyte to Manila that has really disrupted the children’s studies. Raya
recounted , “We evacuated to Daang Tubo (Caloocan City) in March. When my mother arrived, we had
already transferred to Montalban (in Rizal). I still haven’t been able to go back to school because I was
late for enrolment. I want to study again next school year.” (Lumikas [kami] noong March…
[Pumunta] kami sa Daang Tubo. [Pagdating] nila Nanay nasa Montalban na kami. Hanggang ngayon,
di nag-aaral kasi huli na sa pag-enroll. Ngayong pasukan gusto kong mag-aral.)
Samuel said he has been out of school since his family arrived in Payatas, Quezon City. “When we
arrived here in Payatas, I couldn’t enroll because I had no report card. [Hopefully] I can continue my
studies in the coming schoolyear,” (Pagdating dito [sa Payatas] di nag-aral kasi walang card. Sa
pasukan mag-aaral na ako) he says. Temy said he had stopped going to school even while he was still
in Leyte.
Family livelihoods are also disturbed by armed conflict. Cesar said, “Our livelihood is disturbed
because we can’t go to the mountains and make copra. Herding our carabaos, farming, clearing the
fields – we can’t do any of these.” (Nasisira ang [pag-hahanapbuhay] kasi hindi [kami] makapunta sa
bundok, hindi maka-kopra. [Mag pastol] ng kalabaw, magsaka, maggamas ng damo, hindi namin
magawa ang lahat ng ito.) When an encounter takes place in the middle of copra production, Mike said
he would drop everything and run home, even leaving the copra exposed to the weather until the
fighting and tension subside. Jerick said his family is afraid of working in their farm whenever there is
fighting and military operations and they are forced to wait until it is relatively safe to go back to work.
Carl described what it’s like: “The whole family panics. Everybody hides inside the house, afraid to be
involved in the conflict.” (Nagpapanik ang buong pamilya, nagtago sa loob ng bahay para di
madamay sa nangyayaring gulo.)
Poverty and plenty
The displaced children who participated in the FGD expressed longing to return home to their village
in Leyte. Raya said, “I prefer the province because it’s beautiful [and] we make a living there. With
copra and abaca, our earnings are fine. Here we don’t have work. My father is a construction worker
[and] what he earns isn’t enough.” (Gusto ko sa probinsya kasi maganda doon [at] may hanpbuhay
doon. [Sa pagkopra] ng niyog, [sa] abaka, sapat ang kita. Dito wala trabaho. [Nasa] construction si
tatay. Kulang ang kita di sapat.) Carl echoed Raya’s sentiments: “I’m used to the province. That’s
where our livelihood is. Life is tough here in Manila. Sometimes we don’t have work. My uncle works
as a construction worker.” (Sanay ako (sa probinsya). Andoon na ang sariling hanapbuhay.
Marhirap… dito [sa Maynila]. Minsan walang trabaho. Tiyo ko ang nagtatrabaho [sa]
construction…”)
Some children were able to find jobs in the city. Joyet works in a bakery and earns P1,500 a month but
still says that he prefers to work on their farm in Leyte because their family’s earnings in Manila are
still not enough for its needs. Similarly, Jerick said he earns a pittance from selling fishballs, a mere
P30-50 a day, from which he contributes for food in his uncle’s home where he stays. “I need to find
work. I have a hard time finding a job because I didn’t finish school. Whenever my mother asks for
money, I have nothing to give her. She tells me to save but I don’t even have a job.” (Kailangan ko
makahanap ng trabaho. [Mahirap mag-apply ng trabaho [dahil] wala naman [akong] natapos. [Pag]
humingi ng pera ang Nanay, wala pa ako maibigay. Sabi [niya] mag-ipon raw ako kaso wala naman
akong trabaho.)
Only Mike prefers to work in the city than in the province. He makes a living by selling recyclable
materials which he scavenges from a garbage dump and sells to junk shops. He said, “I like it here
because I earn P50 a day by foraging through garbage. I don’t like it in the province because there it
takes three days to earn P100.” (Gusto ko dito kasi…50 pesos ang kita sa isang araw [sa pangunguha
ng basura]. Ayaw [ko] sa probinsya dahil doon ang kita [ay] 100 pesos sa tatlong araw.)
At any rate, the children and their families overwhelmingly say that they would return to their homes if
only they didn’t have problems with the ongoing armed conflict. Joyet argued: “Get rid of the military
because before they arrived we lived in peace.” (Alisin ang military, kasi noong wala pa sila tahimik
kami doon.) A few like Mike and Vic said they wished both groups were gone because if the NPA is
there the Army is also around. (Kung may NPA, may Army.)
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At the moment, however, the children have to endure the harsh realities of urban poverty, as do the
women. Lumen said that when they had just arrived in Manila, she and her children had difficulty
adjusting to the climate and they were often feverish. Ligaya said the water did not agree with her
system. Delia contracted Hepatitis B and experienced kidney trouble. Unable to afford the treatment
which is expensive even in government hospitals, Gena relies on a faith healer to relieve her chest
pains and cure her tuberculosis. While some suffer from physical ailments, others are emotionally
unwell. Roselyn said it pains her to be apart from her family. She added “It’s only here that I’ve
experienced eating just twice a day.” (Dito [ko] lang naranasan ang pagkain ng dalawang beses sa
isang araw.) Buding, 39, said, “I feel sad that I haven’t seen my baby who was only seven months old
when I left.” (Nalulungkot ako sa hindi ko pa nakikitang anak kong nawalay sa akin. Seven months
lang noon.)
While they are in Manila, these women and their families have to find ways to survive from day to day.
Lumen said, “I wish we had the capital to build a small store so the family can survive.” (Sana may…
puhunan sa pagtinda para pambuhay na pamilya.) In the meantime, her husband and father sell
fishballs. Delia sells ice scramble, a cold drink commonly sold by street hawkers. They are used to
eating just rice gruel or boiled ginger. Gena’s sons sometimes find work on construction sites but
mostly they forage through garbage dumps and make a living selling recyclable materials to junk
shops. Gena related, “My son was asking for a piece of bread and I had nothing to give him. I just
cried. He said, ‘Ma, let’s go back to the province.’ How can we go back if we’re going to be killed
there? The barangay officials will accuse us [of being NPA].” (Nanghihingi ng tinapay ang anak ko,
wala naman ibigay. Iiyak na lang ako… Sinasabi nya, ‘Nay uwi na tayo ng probinsya... ’ Paano naman
kami doon ay papatayin naman kami, ang opisyales ituturo kami.) Bella finds it ironic that her family
left Leyte in order not to be killed, but in Manila, she said: “[Here] we will die of poverty. That’s why
we’ve decided to return home. Even if we die, at least we’ll die there.” (…[Mamamatay] kami sa hirap.
Kaya ang desisyon namin ay umuwi na. Para kahit mamatay kami, doon na.)
Differences and disturbances
The women said the NPA are helpful and that the work gets done faster when they help in agricultural
production. Lumen said sometimes they contribute rice grains for planting. Delia added, “The only
thing the farmers ask is that when the comrades help in the fields, they shouldn’t bring their firearms so
that in case the military arrives, the farmers can cover for them.” (Gusto [ng mga magsasaka na] pag
tumulong ang mga kasama… huwag magdala ng armas kasi halimbawa dumating ang mga militar,
[kaya nilang depensahan].) Ligaya said they also bring all sorts of vegetables. Bella added that they
teach them the health benefits of some herbs, conduct educational discussions, and teach people to read
and write. Lumen said the NPA is easy to deal with. Once she told them, ‘Comrades, please retreat
because shooting might erupt.’ They said, ‘We’re just passing through, don’t worry.’ They left after an
hour.” (‘Mga kasama pwede bang umalis kayo baka kasi magputukan.’ Sabi nila, ‘Dadaan lang kami,
wag kayong mag-alala. ‘Umalis sila pagkatapos ng isang oras.) When asked if the NPA presence
endangered the community residents, Delia said, “The NPA are a big help to the community. There
won’t be any trouble as long as the military isn’t around. If it’s just the NPA, everything’s peaceful.”
(Malaki ang naitutulong ng NPA sa lugar. Wala naman gulo kung wala ang militar. Kung NPA lang
naman, tahimik naman.) Carl agreed: “When the military is not around, it’s calm. There’s no
disturbance.” (Kung walang army, tahimik. Walang gulo.)
During the children FGD, Mike said that he thinks the military and NPA are at odds with each other
because they have different principles. Cesar explained, “The NPA is the army of the people, while the
military is on the side of the rich. The NPA helps the poor, and the military doesn’t like that.” (Ang
NPA sundalo ng masa, ang Army sundalo [ng] mayayaman. Ang NPA tumutulong sa mahihirap [at]
ayaw ng militar na ganoon.) Joyet was of a similar opinion: “The NPA defends the poor, while the
Army is abusive towards the poor. They kill on the grounds of mere accusations, even without
evidence.” (Ipinagtatanggol ang mahihirap ng mga NPA. ang Army abusado sa mga mahihirap. Kahit
bintang lang patayin agad kahit waalng ebidensya.) Jerick related, “When the NPA is around, we feed
them [and everything is peaceful], but when the military is around, violence always erupts. [The
military] doesn’t care if someone gets hurt. On the other hand, the NPA makes sure that we’re out of
harm’s way.” (Pag andyan iyong mga NPA, [pinapakain] namin pero walang nangyayari, pero kung
dumating ang mga Army may mangyayaring laban. Walang pakialam ang mga Army kung sinong
madamay. Pero ang mga NPA pinagtanggol kami, pinaiiwas kami sa gulo.) One boy said that
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community residents who feel their lives are in danger may, because of this, be compelled to take up
arms to defend themselves.
Most of the children blamed the military for the tumult in their communities. Joyet said, “I wish the
abuses done to the people would stop. The regime of [Gloria Macapagal Arroyo] is responsible for this,
and the 20th IB under [Gen. Jovito Palparan, Jr.] as well.” (Sana matigil [na] ang pang-aabuso sa
taumbayan. Ang may kasalanan [ay ang] rehimen [ni] GMA [at] 20th IB [ni] Palparan.) Samuel said,
“The army is at fault because they beat people up without listening to what we have to say.” (Ang mga
army ang may sala dahil [nangbubugbog sila nang] hindi… nakikinig [sa] paliwanag.) Some claimed
the military is incapable of investigating civilians in a decent manner. Jerick said barangay officials are
responsible for telling the military whom they suspect to be NPA members and supporters. According
to Carl, the soldiers then attack the “suspects” in an effort to make them admit to their alleged offense.
One boy said, “If their accusations are false, I wish they wouldn’t have to hurt people. They’re really
abusive.” (Sana kung hindi totoo hindi nila sasaktan ang tao. Sobrang abusado sila.)
The children dream of having respectable jobs in the future. One wants to be a mechanic, another a
construction worker. Quite a few want to become policemen, while others dream of becoming a
lawyer, a pilot, a computer expert, and an engineer. They recognize that they need to earn and save
money so they can finish their studies in the first place – which will happen only if their parents or they
themselves are able to find stable jobs. While they struggle to remain optimistic about their future, they
also recognize that poverty and sustained militarization are obstacles to their goals.
Joyet: Escaping to the city
Seventeen-year-old Joyet stopped schooling when he was eight years old “because of frequent
[military] operations” (sa dalas ng operasyon) where he used to live. Joyet and his family felt that the
military would abuse civilians while pursuing the NPA: “We were afraid that they might not be able to
stop themselves from pointing their guns at us.” (Natatakot din kami dahil ‘yung mga baril nila baka
hindi nila mapigilan na itutok sa amin.) Joyet’s parents are separated. He said his mother left when he
was young, remarried, and now has five children by her second husband. His father has since become a
full-time member of the NPA. Joyet knows it is a job without monetary rewards, but he said of his
father: “He defends the oppressed.” (Ipinagtatanggol niya ang mga naaapi.) Joyet was raised by his
paternal grandparents who own some four hectares of coconut farmland, and he worked in the farm and
helped harvest coconuts.
In 2002, Joyet related how his grandparents’ house was raided by soldiers. “The soldiers entered the
house without a word, they just went in. My grandmother happened to be there. [One of the soldiers]
slapped her on the face with [a roll of] paper and asked where her son was. She said he wasn’t in the
house and that they rarely spend time together. The soldier called her a liar and was about to search the
rooms, but my grandfather wouldn’t allow it. They stayed outside and ate lunch there.” (Pinasok ng
mga sundalo na walang salita, pumasok kaagad. Si [lola] nandun sa labas, sinampal ng papel tapos
tinanong kung nasaan daw ang anak [niya]. Sabi ng [lola] ko, di ko alam sir wala na kasi dito... Di
naman kasi kami laging magkasama n’un. ‘Sinungaling ka andito ang anak mo e,’ [sabi ng militar].
Baka nasa loob, pasukin daw... Papasukin sana nila kaso di pumayag ang lolo ko. Dun lang sila sa
labas, doon sila nananghalian.) In that month alone, Joyet said his grandparents’ house was raided
three times by soldiers who were looking for his father and an uncle who is also a member of the NPA.
Not finding who they were looking for, Joyet said the soldiers threatened to kill him and his
grandparents because they said all their relatives were NPA fighters (lahat daw ng kamag-anak hukbo).
Despite the military presence in their community, Joyet said that encounters between the military and
the NPA do not happen in their village: “In the outskirts, far from us. Once, an encounter took place
near us but it was only momentary and the NPA retreated immediately so no civilian would get hurt.”
(Sa tabi-tabi, malayo sa amin. Minsan sa malapit sa amin… nagka-engkwentro pero saglit lang ‘yun
[tapos] atras agad para raw di madamay ang sibilyan.) He also says that the firefights last an hour at
most. Joyet related that some NPA fighters were helping make copra when they were attacked by the
military at five in the morning. Joyet and three other boys happened to be in the area during the raid
since copra fires are kept burning through the night, but a team of NPAs covered them and led them to
safety. Joyet was shocked that he came so close to danger. He found out that the early-morning raid
yielded casualties on both sides, with one fatality on the part of the military.
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Another time, Joyet said he was tending to a carabao in their farm when soldiers jumped him and
interrogated him at gunpoint while accusing him of hiding an NPA fighter. Joyet says that it’s such
incidents that result in rallies in Tacloban City to protest military abuses that even his grandfather joins.
But he said it appeared that the abuses only worsened with the protests. Like many others from his
community, Joyet and his family eventually chose to leave because of the harassment they experienced
at the hands of the military. In August 2005, Joyet transferred to Caloocan City in the National Capital
Region (NCR) with some of his cousins. He now works in a bakery, earning P50 a day, and in a bottle
factory. He said he still isn’t able to contribute regularly to the rent. “I have many personal needs. I
sorely need the money for food,” (Marami po akong pangangailangan sa sarili ko. Kailangangkailangan ko talaga [para sa] pagkain.) Joyet said he has no news of his other relatives who have most
likely moved to other places: “I don’t know where [my relatives] are. They’re no longer in the place
where I came from.” (Di ko na alam kung nasaan na sila. Wala na sila sa pinanggalingan ko.)
Joyet confronts the harsh realities of urban poverty every day. “I want to go back to the province, to
where I used to live. There is much food there, unlike here where you have to buy everything.” (Gusto
kong bumalik sa probinsiya, sa dating tirahan namin. Marami doon pagkain. Hindi katulad dito
binibili lahat.) Joyet wants to go back to school but this is not yet an option. He once took an entrance
exam to a school in Ormoc, Leyte and heard he had passed but he wasn’t able to pursue it because his
family evacuated. Discouraged by his limited choices he lamented: “I feel that my life is ruined
because I wasn’t able to finish my studies.” (Parang sira na ang buhay ko, di na ako nakapagtapos ng
pag-aaral.) He said he isn’t used to the kind of work he does now, but he has to do it to survive. In the
end, Joyet realizes there is nothing much to long for but these: “Send the military away, [get rid of]
their detachments, their camps… that’s the only reason why we moved here. It’s because of their
cruelty. If they have to stay, then I hope their abuses stop.” (Paalisin ang military, ang mga detatsment,
mga kampo… kasi yun lang naman ang dahilan kung bakit kami napalikas dito. Dahil sa kanilang
pang-aabuso. Kung andun naman sila, sana pigilan na ang pang-aabuso nila.)
Mike: Working to stay alive
Mike is 14 years old and stopped studying during the third grade in 2004 to help his family full-time on
their farm. Mike says that though he is the eldest of three siblings, he is the smallest because he started
working on their farm at just four years of age. He blames the hard work of planting root crops,
harvesting coconuts and making it into copra for stunting his physical development. He recalled, “We
got by quite well. We owned chickens and pigs. We had plenty of chickens.” (Nakapamuhay kami
nang maayos. May manok kami, mga baboy. Ang dami-dami ng manok namin.)
In spite of his responsibilities, Mike had ways of amusing himself: “I’m fond of catching frogs.”
(Mahilig kasi akong manghuli ng palaka.) He and his friends liked catching frogs at night with the aid
of a flashlight. However even such harmless recreation has been affected by armed conflict, with the
military prohibiting the use of flashlights at night: “If [the military] sees something flashing in the dark
they’ll just shoot at it. So the adults said that [using a flashlight] is no longer allowed.” (Kasi kapag
may nakikita silang umiilaw, babarilin na lang daw… Bawal na raw sabi ng mga matatanda.) Mike
says that he would grow afraid and nervous at the sound of the shooting whenever clashes between the
military and the NPA occured. He recalled how his mother used to try and ease his fright by telling him
that the military is not after them. “They’re just looking for pigs,”(Baboy lang ang hanap nila) she
would say.
Mike said he wanted to believe his mother except that he directly witnessed an incident of military
abuse against a civilian accused of being a member of the NPA. He recalled, “Someone was brought
[to the village] and many people watched. This person was standing, then beaten up, then hit [by the
military]… He was made to stand up again and again after they kept on beating him on the back.”
([May taong] dinala tapos nakita ko maraming nakatingin. Pinapatayo, binubugbog, pinapalo [siya ng
militar]… Pinatayo [siyang paulit-ulit at] pinalo pa rin sa likod.) Their family was also affected and
Mike recalls their being prevented from farming: “We fell on hard times. We couldn’t work in the farm
because [the military] prohibited it. We [complied because we] were afraid they would hold us at
gunpoint.” (Nahirapan na kami doon. Hindi na [kami] makapunta, bawal na kasi. Natatakot kami baka
kami matutukan.) It got to the point that they could only attempt to make copra when they were
absolutely certain that the soldiers were not around – which, he said, was hard to say with any
certainty.
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Mike formed his impression of the military from such abuses directed at civilians, particularly at those
accused of supporting the NPA. This is where he thinks that the NPA and the military differ. According
to him, “The NPA doesn’t bother anyone. They are kind.” (Ang NPA hindi… naggagambala. Mababait
ang NPA.) Mike said they also help in farm production and copra-making in exchange for food. On the
other hand, he said of the military: “The army doesn’t help, yet they eat what is ours. Even if you ask
around, they’ll tell you that [the military] eats our food.” (Yung mga Army po, di [na] tumulong, doon
pa kumain. Magtanong-tanong kayo sa iba dyan. Sila po ang kumakain.) Mike related that once many
of their chickens disappeared. Suspecting that soldiers had stolen their chickens, he and his thenpregnant mother moved out of their house and lived with his grandparents for a while. They were
afraid and simply did not want to risk being caught in the crossfire in case an encounter took place.
Mike said they allowed both NPA fighters and government soldiers into their home whenever they
needed a place to stay. He also said his mother taught him not to give any information to the military. If
they asked him whether he’s seen a group of NPAs in the area, he was to deny it and keep quiet.
“People are always accused of being NPA. The military is inclined to make such accusations”, Mike
explained. (Ang tao pinagbibitangan na NPA. Mahilig [ang militar] magbintang.) This is also why he
said there are no longer any community organizations in their area – because the military
indiscriminately accuses these of being NPA front organizations.
All these have apparently pushed many residents to relocate elsewhere: “Nearly everyone suffered. We
had to leave,” (Halos lahat ng tao hirap. Umalis na kami doon) says Mike. His family is among those
that left. He recalled thinking, “I want to leave because the place is in turmoil. If we don’t leave, we
might die.” (Gusto kong umalis kasi may gulo pa, e. Pag hindi kami umalis, baka kami mamamatay.)
They sold their farm animals to be able to relocate to Payatas in Quezon City, a place in the national
capital infamous for its mountain-like garbage dump.
Unlike in Leyte where Mike worked in a farm, in Payatas he forages in a dumpsite for anything that
can be re-used or sold like plastic bottles and scrap metal. His feet are barely protected from the
garbage and he wears only slippers while scavenging. Mike’s health has deteriorated since he started
working in Payatas. He has been having coughing fits at night. To make it worse, he is frequently
buillied by a group he calls “rugby boys” – neighborhood boys addicted to inhaling solvents. They
have twice accosted and beaten him to steal the scrap metal he has found in the dump. Because he is
smaller than they are, Mike can do nothing about it but cry. He said, “I don’t try to fight back. If I do, I
might die because there are many of them.” (Di [na] lang po ako gumanti. Kasi kapag gumanti po ako,
mamamatay ako kasi marami po sila.) Mike knows that these wouldn’t happen to him if he were back
home but he has no choice but to scavenge in order to survive: “I’m doing this so that we can have
some money. I don’t spend a lot. I hardly even play anymore. The money I earned yesterday, I gave it
all to Nanay (mother).” (Kasi [ginagawa] ko lang yun para magkapera kami. Hindi naman ako
magastos… Di na ako naglaro. Yung kinita ko kahapon, [ibinigay] ko na lang kay Nanay.)
Mike’s father now works as a construction worker in the city. They try to pay the rent and put food on
the table with their shared earnings. He sees how much more his father makes than he does so Mike
also dreams of becoming a construction worker when he grows up. Mike is not even thinking about
going back to school. When asked what he hopes for, he merely said, “It won’t happen because we
won’t stay alive if we don’t work.” (Di po mangyayari kasi di naman tayo mabubuhay kapag di tayo
nagtrabaho, e.) In the meantime he is focused on earning what little money he can get from scavenging
to help with the family’s daily expenses. “I really want to earn money so I can give it to Nanay
(mother).” (Gusto ko talagang magkapera para ibigay kay Nanay.)
Jerick: Waiting for justice
Jerick is 16 years old, and the third child in a brood of four. His family has a small farm on which he
has helped with planting rice and harvesting coconuts and bananas since he was nine years old. He says
he is used to waking up at five in the morning to begin the work of clearing the fields and preparing it
for planting which is usually done in the afternoon. Jerick stopped schooling after finishing the third
grade. He was 12 years old then. He said it wasn’t his choice to stop schooling: “I felt sad about it. I
really wanted to continue my studies but [my parents] wouldn’t let me.” (Nalungkot ako doon. Kasi
gustong-gusto ko talagang mag-aaral. Di na pinaaral.) Because Jerick’s father doesn’t want to be
employed as a farm worker and prefers to till his own land, he needs all the help he can get in
cultivating the crops. His parents also apparently believe it’s enough that their children know how to
184
read and write and, after acquiring basic literacy skills, they are expected to work full-time in the farm.
Jerick said that at first he missed learning Filipino and Math, his favorite subjects in school, but that he
easily got used to farm work and was often assigned to look after their carabaos and pigs.
At six in the morning one day in August 2005, Jerick’s older brother Sandro was seized by the military
and brought to the old health center which the soldiers used as a temporary camp. Jerick didn’t
immediately know what happened because he had been at their farm since dawn while his parents and
two other siblings were in Cebu, accompanying his grandmother for medical treatment. When Jerick
returned to their house at around seven in the morning, his brother was gone. His neighbors told him
what had happened. Jerick grew anxious but could do nothing but wait. At nine o’clock, Sandro was
finally released by the military and he told Jerick what he had endured. Jerick recalled: “The military
asked him where our guns were. He said, ‘Sir, we don’t have guns.’ The military said he was lying.
They blindfolded him. Suddenly, someone punched him in the stomach. His blindfold was taken off
and [he was asked the same question]. My brother had nothing to tell them because we really don’t
own any guns. He was blindfolded once more and beaten again. Someone flicked at his ears and then
slapped [them] with a rolled-up newspaper.”([I]yong mga militar daw, tinanong siya kung saan daw
ang mga baril namin. Sabi naman niya, ‘Sir, wala naman kaming baril.’ Sabi ng military sinungaling
siya. Tinakpan ang mata niya. Tapos may biglang sumuntok sa katawan niya dito sa may tiyan.
[Tinanggal] na naman ang takip sa mata. Tapos tinanong [ulit] kung nasaan daw ang mga baril. Wala
namang ituturo ang kapatid ko kasi wala naman talagang baril. Tinakpan daw uli ang mga mata niya
tapos ginulpi nanaman siya. Tapos may tao daw na pumitik sa tainga niya tapos may newspaper pa
daw na malaki na itinupi at pinalo-palo sa tainga niya.)
Jerick thinks that what happened to Sandro was related to their father’s being a member of a local
farmer’s association accused by the military of being an NPA “front organization”. According to
Jerick, his father was popular among the community residents but that someone started a smear
campaign by saying that Jerick’s father and his supporters were Communists. Jerick said : “The way I
see it, the Communists are good to poor farmers. The military is on the side of the rich. As for the poor,
they beat them.” ([Ang] tingin ko po sa mga Komunista, mabait po sila sa mga magsasaka na
mahihirap… Yung mga militar naman, kinakampihan lang po nila [iyong] mayayaman, tapos yun mga
mahirap, binugbog nila.)
Jerick said that when he was younger he wanted to join the NPA. He has never been afraid of them:
“They relate to us well. Whenever we meet, they ask how I am, they shake my hand – things like that.”
(Maganda nga ang pakita nila sa amin, e. Pag nagkita-kita kami, magkamusta, magkamay – ganoon.)
He added, “I’ve seen that NPA fighters are good to us. When they’re around, they don’t threaten us or
beat us . They help us.” (Kasi nakita ko po sa [NPA] na mabait sila sa amin. Tsaka kapag andyan sila,
di naman sila nananakot, di sila nambubugbog. Tinutulungan nila kami.) Jerick said the NPA helps in
farm work like preparing the soil for planting or copra-making. He revealed that it was not unlikely for
their family to be identified with the NPA because an uncle of his is a guerrilla, and their family once
volunteered their farm as a venue for an anniversary celebration. He recalled, “We were so happy to
have been invited to join the celebrations and watch the program.” (Sobrang saya po namin kasi
pinapunta po kami doon.) He said he enjoyed the cultural presentations most of all.
His family decided not to risk staying in their village for fear that they might not emerge alive from
their next run-in with the military. What happened to Sandro has happened to Jerick’s other relatives. A
cousin was mauled by the military one night past curfew. Jerick’s family decided to uproot themselves
from their home in Leyte. They sold their carabao for P21,000 and left for the nearby province of
Bohol where they stayed with their father’s cousin. After two months in Bohol, their family still had no
stable means of earning a living so they decided to move again, this time to Manila. In October 2005,
Jerick’s family arrived in Caloocan City, Metro Manila.
He understands that in the city, he has to work even harder to survive: “It’s tougher here if one doesn’t
have a job because you have to buy all of your needs, like firewood, water.” (Mas lalong mahirap dito
pag walang trabaho kasi lahat ng pangangailangan bibilihin katulad ng panggatong, tubig.) His
parents rented a stall and converted it into a small sari-sari store which earns just enough to feed three
persons – Jerick’s parents and their youngest child. Meanwhile, Jerick and the two older children have
had to fend for themselves. “I take care of my needs,” (Ako na [ang bumubuhay] sa sarili ko) says
Jerick. While Sandro works in a bakery, Jerick sells fishballs in the afternoons. He did very well at first
but lately, he said, sales have dwindled because of the rising cost of basic goods.
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Jerick said he feels sad whenever he remembers the farm they left behind. “We left two carabaos that
we weren’t able to sell. Our rice crops were about to be harvested. There were also sweet potatoes,
coconuts and abaca. Whenever we recall these things, we feel sad.” (Dalawang kalabaw ang naiwan
namin doon na di nabenta. Tapos may palay pa kami na malapit nang maani. May kamoteng kahoy na
tinanim, niyog, abaca. Pag naaalala namin, yun malungkot rin kami.)
If it were only up to him, Jerick said he would go back to Leyte: “I prefer to live in our province
because life is good there. We don’t go hungry.” (Ako po mas gusto ko talaga sa probinsiya namin kasi
maganda ang buhay namin. Hindi kami [nagugutom].) However, he knows it is too soon to return:
“Our relatives say that male or female, young or old, we’ll get killed if any of us go back. So we’re
forced to stay here.” (Sabi ng mga kamag-anak namin, lalaki o babae, bata o matanda, [papatayin]
daw kapag may bumalik sa amin. Kaya napilitan na kami na huwag bumalik doon.) When asked to
describe how he felt about the turn of events, he said, “Fear and anger. And sadness. Afraid of the
military. Angry with the miltary and councilors. We feel sad that we are having a hard time here now
when we were not having such a hard time then. That’s what we’re most sad about.” (Takot tsaka galit.
Tsaka lungkot. Takot sa mga military. Galit sa mga military at konsehal. Kinalulungkot po namin na
naghirap kami dito na hindi naman kami masyadong naghihirap doon. Yun po ang kinalulungkot
namin.)
Given his limited choices, Jerick said he is prepared to endure this kind of life in the city. (Ok lang
tiisin ang buhay dito). However, he said that if and when the military decides to track them down even
in the city, “We will have no choice but to take up arms and join the NPA in the mountains.” (Wala na
kaming magagawa. Mag-NPA na lang po kami sa bundok.) But he is still optimistic, that his family
will one day come home and be vindicated: “I imagine that upon our return, we will even the score
with the officials. It may be their turn now, but who knows, it might be our turn next time.” (Iniisip ko
na basta makabalik lang kami doon, lahat ng opisyal, gagantihan namin. Sa ngayon, sa kanila. Baka
sa susunod, sa amin naman.)
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SURIGAO DEL SUR
The terrain of Barangay Casulion, the research site visited in the province of Surigao del Sur, is
generally rugged and surrounded by mountains, with five major rivers running through the
municipality and a nearby bay as the primary fishing ground. Most of the town’s area is covered with
forests, while the rest is used for agricultural and residential purposes. The major sources of livelihood
are farming and fishing. The leading agricultural products include rice, banana, and coconut, while the
major aquatic resources are milkfish and prawn.
The dominant ethnolinguistic group in the community is Manobo, although there are also Cebuano,
Camayo, Boholano, and Maranaw minorities. Manobos are animists – they worship the sun, the rain,
the trees, and other natural elements. They believe that a Magbabaya or spirit exists in every living
thing. An important part of Manobo culture is the Baylan or priestess who is known as a spiritual leader
and healer who makes use of medicinal plants. They also recognize the authority of a datu or chieftain
who convenes the tribe for decision-making.
187
Table 16: Monitored Armed Confrontations Between The New People's Army and Government Forces - Surigao del Sur Province
KILLED
WOUNDED
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
1
3
-
-
-
1
-
15
4
1
-
15
DATE
Incidents
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
CAPTURED
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
2
1
-
-
-
-
12 +
undetermined
#
-
2
-
-
188
Most of the community members of Barangay Casulion are lumad or indigenous people of the Manobo
tribe. They practice collective farming to ensure that every member of the farming cooperative will get
a fair share of the harvest. Mainly, they cultivate rice, vegetables and root crops for subsistence, as well
as for revenue. With the relatively recent introduction of the habal-habal, a motorcycle with wooden or
metal balancers on either side, it has become easier to transport the community’s agricultural goods to
the town market.
The barangay did not always have a school, and the children used to have to walk to the nearest one
located in the town center over ten kilometers away. Through the efforts of the church and other
community organizations, a primary school was put up in the mid-1990s. As the school’s students grew
in number and as they graduated, the school was expanded and a secondary school also set up for those
wishing to continue their education.
As for health, the respondents said that the most common afflictions include cough and colds, fever,
headache, and diarrhea. The leading causes of death in the village are pneumonia, diarrhea, and wound
abscess. There are around five public health centers and a public hospital scattered across the town, but
there is no health center in the village itself. Meanwhile, the ratio of doctors, nurses and dentists to the
population of the whole municipality is estimated at 1:1,500. In the barangay visited, there was a
community organization formed to help the families of seriously ill individuals in the community who
need hospitalization; it lends money to the families for medical expenses. However, there are still cases
where children die because their diseases are left untreated. One child respondent said she lost five
siblings to malaria and diarrhea.
Building, disrupted, rebuilding
Older residents said the Manobo tribe were the original settlers of Central Mindanao. They said their
people used to occupy the low-lying plains and fertile areas until they were slowly driven upland to the
forests as more Christian settlers came in. For their livelihoods they burned small patches of the forest
where they could plant crops, and hunted or gathered forest produce. In 1954, logging operations came
to their community and brought even greater hardships. Logging firms and their private armies
prevented them from practicing their swidden farming; elders recalled their parents being beaten for
trying. Many locals were forced to stop and, worse, few were even able to find work with the logging
companies which preferred educated Christian settlers. Others resorted to gathering rattan or uway deep
in the forests to sell. Their earnings from these activities were irregular and meager.
Having lost the economic life that was the basis of their indigenous ways, the members of the tribe
were dispersed. Logging had also apparently bred corruption among the local chieftains with local
leaders getting into the habit of asking for grease money. Locals also say that the distortion of the
lumad’s natural economy also destroyed community life and eroded traditional cultural practices; many
men took to drinking and gambling in the lowlands.
Old practices such as paghungos-hungos or collective farming were abandoned; and the residents fell
into the ways of the lowland settlers by maintaining private ownership of small patches of land in the
fringes of logging operations. This situation was further aggravated by the entry of mining firms in the
1970s. When plans for open-pit mining operations were known, some of the datus were bribed into
submission even as others resisted. Those who resisted were eventually singled out and killed by the
mining firms’ private armies.
Village elders said this was their situation in the early 1980s when the NPA first arrived in the
province. They remember that among the NPA’s first campaigns in their community was to encourage
the building of community organizations and to start a literacy program; both children and adults were
taught how to read and write. They also recalled NPA interventions to keep the expansion of logging
and mining operations in check. All these quickly provoked a military presence. The residents
lamented that this was the beginning of the cycles of military operations that disrupt their collective
efforts, where these are looked upon with suspicion as NPA projects. The first time this happened, the
elders recalled, was in the late 1980s until the early 1990s and then again in the last few years. They
said they have had to adjust to a cycle of building, disruption and rebuilding.
Yet they persevere in defending, through their organized efforts, their indigenous social and cultural
practices. They are also conscious about maintaining a vibrant Mindanao-wide Lumadnon identity that
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they started to build in the 1980s – a political and cultural community awakened to the historical
injustices perpetrated against them by decades of state neglect and lowlander intrusion. They say that a
Manigaonons, a tribal council composed of datus, has been organized to protect and promote the rights
of the lumad over their ancestral land. Efforts to uplift the indigenous communities’ condition now
include engaging in community-based forest management programs, collective farming, abaca planting
and consumer cooperatives. They have also taken the initiative of building community schools.
State forces have attempted to contain the NPA in their corner of Surigao del Sur since 1985. It is no
longer unusual for gunfire to suddenly pierce the silence of night, or to have helicopters constantly
overhead during the day. The lumad say they have had to seek shelter in caves or the forest out of
desperation, or because their houses had been burned down. Some respondents even recalled instances
of villagers returning to their homes to forage for food and then being killed by the military if they
were caught. In 1988 soldiers allegedly raped an eight-month pregnant woman in front of her husband;
the bodies of the lifeless couple were later discovered by their neighbors. Many times, because of such
atrocities, the community has evacuated to elude abusive soldiers, and endured hunger and sickness in
the forest.
They said that fierce bombings in 1991 caused the residents to evacuate their homes for an especially
long and difficult time. Not only did they suffer a food blockade, they were they forced to seek refuge
in the forests and resorted to cooking what little food they had only at night to avoid being spotted by
the military. The women of the community also remember countless incidents of harassment of
women. One woman is said to have suffered severe shock because of the violence, later dying when the
fighting abated. All these, the villagers say, led many to join the NPA.
Encounters between the NPA and military have continued sporadically since the late 1990s with a
notable increase in the number of firefights in the last year or so. The most recent outbreak of fighting
was a two-hour battle in May 2005 in a forested area just a few kilometers from the village center.
Community residents gathered in a central hall and listened anxiously as the gunshots drew nearer.
They saw that these came from the approaching military who, upon reaching their barrio, rounded up
and harassed villagers – eventually forcing hundreds of them to flee to an evacuation center. This
incident was one among many during three months of intense military operations in the heart of
indigenous communities surrounding the forest and agricultural area of Andap Valley that resulted in
the displacement of an estimated 3,900 individuals. They were only able to go back to their homes after
organized community efforts that sought the intervention of local government officials in halting
military operations.
Children on the run
Nineteen-year-old Dencio was only five years old when he experienced a major skirmish between the
military and the NPA in the early 1990s: “I remember that fighting was intense, and we just kept on
running.” (Naalala ko na malakas ang giyera noon, takbo kami ng takbo.) He said that he will never
forget how soldiers indiscriminately hurt people for no apparent reason: “They killed or hurt anyone
they encountered.” (Ang [sino mang] makitang tao ay [pinapatay o sinasaktan].) When they evacuated
he says the military destroyed their crops and slaughtered the animals they had left behind. He recalled
that “They even burned down the houses of the indigenous people.” (Sinunog pa ang kabahayan ng
mga lumad.) His family hid in the forest where they could cook their meals only at night to avoid being
seen by the military. “We were like thieves in our own farms because we were afraid the military
would catch us gathering food.” (Para [kaming] naging magnanakaw sa sariling sakahan dahil takot
na makita ng sundalo kung [kumukuha] ng pagkain.)
Noel, 21, described the 1991 evacuation as a time of difficulty, fatigue, and hunger (hirap, pagod, at
gutom). “We lived in a cave for two months. We ate only one meal per day. We couldn’t gather food
because our farms were far away, and our community was filled with soldiers.” (Sa loob rin ng
dalawang buwan doon kami nanirahan sa yungib. Sa isang araw, [isang] beses lang kami nakakakain.
Hindi [kami] makakuha ng pagkain dahil ang aming sakahan ay malayo na, at isa pa, maraming
sundalo sa aming komunidad.)
Also in 1991, recalled 19-year-old Maribel, her family experienced much difficulty in trying to find a
place of refuge away from the fighting. “We walked in the mountains at night… we weren’t able to
sleep well or eat properly. I was still little then,” ([Naglalakad] kami sa bundok sa… gabi at wala
190
kaming maayos na tulog o pagkain. Maliit pa ako noon.) she recalled. Maribel said the military stole a
carabao from their sitio and sold it in the next sitio a few kilometers away. “The military also
dismantled the wooden floor of our house, burned our machines, and slaughtered our animals.”
(Kinuha [ng militar] ang aming sahig, sinunog ang aming makina... at pinatay ang aming mga
[alagang hayop].) The most painful loss for Maribel, however, was the death of her friend Rosing. “On
their way home from the farm, Rosing and her companions were tailed by the military and shot. The
military continued to hurt them even though they were already dead.” ([Matapos ang trabaho] sa
bukid, sinundan sila ng mga militar at pinaputukan. Kahit sila ay patay na, dinahas pa rin sila.)
Seventeen-year-old Lisa and her family sought refuge in an NPA camp during the 1991 bombings.
“We lived in the forest for a month together with comrades. All our belongings – our clothes and food
– were burned.” (Sa gubat kami tumira ng halos isang buwan kasama ang mga kauban. Ang aming
mga gamit, damit, pagkain ay nasunog lahat.) She remembered how difficult the trek was especially
since her feet were cut by thorns. Fourteen years hence, Lisa’s family is once again threatened by
armed conflict. Even before the May 2005 events, a handful of Army soldiers from the 58th IB had
come to their house to rest. “They ordered me to cook food for them. I felt bad at how poorly they
regard women.” ([Inutusan akong] magluto ng kanilang pagkain. Masakit ang loob ko dahil mababa
ang tingin nila sa kababaihan.)
Fourteen-year-old Linda was born in a cave at the height of the 1991 bombings. Her mother’s blood
from childbirth flowed to the mouth of the cave, and a passing soldier thought it was the blood of a
wounded NPA fighter. When the soldier saw her mother and her, he didn’t hurt them. Linda is now
grown up but all her life she and her family have had to contend with the military presence in their
community. Linda believes that the most recent onslaught of militarization has something to do with
mining corporations’ wanting to operate in the area. Junboy, 16, said that four mining corporations had
expressed their intention to operate in the province in 2005: Benguet Mining Corp., Sabina Mining
Corp., Semirara Mining Corp., and Montegreen Mining Corp.
During the 2005 military operations, soldiers gathered community members at the school grounds.
Dencio recalled how the military at first wouldn’t let him and the other students out of their classrooms
even though they wanted to run home. He said he saw the military killing the community’s livestock,
damaging homes and destroying farm equipment. Meanwhile, Maribel was alarmed by the coming and
going of helicopters. “We were so afraid of being abducted then killed. Suddenly, soldiers arrived
bearing their wounded.” (Takot na takot kami na baka kami ay dukutin at patayin. Dumating ang
[marami nilang kasama] na may dalang [mga sugatan].) Maribel says, “They offended us students by
saying that it must feel good to kiss us on the lips.” (At binastos pa kaming mga estudyante. Sinabihan
pa kami na ang sarap daw naming i-lips-to-lips.)
Jessa, 14, related that the men were rounded up and ordered to take off their clothes. “That’s when I
really shook with fear because I saw the soldiers dragging my father. They made him undress, aimed
their rifles at him, and examined his body for marks indicating he was an NPA fighter.” (Doon ako
nanginig talaga sa takot kasi nakita kong hila-hila ang aking ama at pinahubad siya, at tinutukan ng
armas, at tinignan kung may marka ba ang katawan o wala na simbolo ng pagka-NPA.)
One parent related during the FGD: “When the military arrived in the community, their harassment
escalated. There was one who was strangled, his face was wrapped in cellophane, the men were
ordered to remove their shirts… when we arrived, the men were made to crawl and the soldiers shouted
at them.” (Sa diha na sila [military] sa komunidad grabe na gyud ang ilang pang-hasi sa mga tawo.
Dunay gituok, giputos ug silopen ang nawong, gipahubo ang mga lalaki ug sinina… sa pag-abot namo,
gipakamang pa gihapon ang mga lalaki. Pagsingkahan pagihapon ang mga lalaki.)
Fourteen-year-old Janna said soldiers came to their home and started shooting: “Our house was shot at
and I got scared because the military kept saying we ought to die because we were members of the
NPA.” (Binaril ang bahay namin… natakot [ako] dahil sabi ng Army dapat mamatay raw kami dahil
nga NPA daw kami.) Cynthia, 12, was in a nearby sitio when the shooting began. Worried about her
parents, she risked going back to their village but was prevented from doing so at a CAFGU barricade.
She is thankful that her parents were able to leave their home safely. Thirteen-year-old Daisy’s father
and uncle weren’t as fortunate: “My father and uncle were arrested by the military. Both were riding a
motorcycle when soldiers from the 58th IB apprehended them to ask what they had with them.” (Hinuli
ang aking ama ng mga sundalo kasama ang aking tiyuhin. Habang sila ay nagmomotor, pinara [sila]
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ng mga sundalo sa grupo ng 58th IB at tinanong kung anong dala nila.) Daisy’s father only had some
food with him. They were beaten and made to walk home barefoot.
Shortly after arriving, a certain 2nd Lieutenant Guzman and his men gave the families instructions to
evacuate their sitio in 24 hours. “We were told to leave because the place was supposedly swarming
with NPAs. If we didn’t leave they said our lives would be in danger,” (Paaalisin daw kami dito dahil
ito daw ay lugar na maraming NPA… at kung hindi kami aalis ay [manganganib] ang buhay namin)
relates Maribel. The next day, she said the military declared their sitio as “No-Man’s Land”. The
soldiers set up check points and people were prevented from bringing any sort of goods from outside
into the village, especially “suspiciously” large quantities of food. During the children’s FGD, one of
them said how she felt the soldiers disrespected them: “They said, ‘Why is it that if soldiers like us
come here you give us dirty looks, but probably when the NPA come you’re all happy and you feed
them and let them sleep in your homes?’” (Sinabi nila na, “Bakit pag kaming mga sundalo ang
kaharap nyo, masama ang tingin nyo sa amin, tapos pag NPA siguro kaharap niyo masaya kayo at
pakakainin at papatulugin pa ninyo sa inyong mga bahay?”)
After two days, amidst the disappearances of community members and rumors that explosives had been
planted around the community, the people discussed the situation within their community organization
and decided to evacuate. The families fled to a gymnasium in nearby Barangay Lingig. While away
from their communities, the people worried about what else the soldiers might do to their crops and
their few cherished belongings. During the parents FGD one of them lamented: “The soldiers cut down
our abaca plants… they strafed our houses and the machine we use to make abaca was destroyed… The
soldiers also took goods from our cooperative and other stores.” (Pinagpuputol ang mga tanim naming
abaca…Ini-strafing ang mga bahay at makina sa paggawa ng abaca, nasira… Kinuha ng mga sundalo
ang mga tinda sa coop at sa mga tindahan.)
Dencio said that living conditions were poor in the evacuation center: “We couldn’t bathe decently or
use the toilets. There was no relief because of the foul odor everywhere. There wasn’t enough food, let
alone fresh provisions.” (Hindi [kami makaligo] nang maayos o makagamit ng CR. [Walang ginhawa]
dahil sa baho… ng paligid. Walang maayos na pagkain, walang [sariwang] pagkain.) The evacuees
shared the gym with the animals they had brought with them and much of the stench came from their
waste.
They were forced to get drinking water from the bathroom, causing many children to suffer from
diarrhea. Luisa, 9, added, “Conditions were so poor, we couldn’t sleep because we had no sleeping
mats and only the cold floor.” (Sa sobrang hirap hindi kami makatulog dahil walang higaan kundi ang
sahig na sobrang lamig.) The floor was also often flooded by water leaking from the toilets. Forty-oneyear-old Remy’s nephew was shot dead while climbing a truck for the evacuation because, she said, the
military accused him of harboring NPA fighters. They held the wake in the evacuation center during
which the military staged a concert in the gym as part of their civilian-military operations. But she said:
“They knew that one of our own was dead. If they only used their heads [or] were merciful enough to
respect the people… they wouldn’t have done that. They violated us, they just sang [noisily] despite
how hurt we felt.” (Alam nila na may patay pa na kasama naming lumad, sana kung may isip sila,
maawain na kalooban na magbigay galang sa mamamayan... hindi sila gagawa ng ganoon.
Nilapastangan nila kami, kinantahan lang kami, sa kabila ng sakit na aming nararamdaman.) Dencio
also recalled angrily: “We were insulted because even though there was a wake, the military held a
concert supposedly for our amusement.” (At nainsulto [kami] dahil kahit may patay ay nagpaconcert
pa ang military para daw kami maaliw.)
The evacuation center was dirty and the children said it reeked of both human and animal waste. These
unhealthy conditions caused the children to often suffer from stomach aches, cough, colds and fever.
For many these eventually turned out to be symptoms of pneumonia or malaria. The sick only felt
worse with all the noise in the evacuation center: “You’d go deaf from the noise. You couldn’t hear
anything above the din.” (Parang mabibingi ka sa ingay. Wala kang marinig na kahit ano dahil sa
sobrang ingay.) The evacuees received assistance in the form of relief goods from the local
government unit (LGU), the church, and a few peasant-, national minority- and disaster-focused NGOs,
including a church-based group. However, the food they were given was often not enough and the rice
grains sometimes smelled bad (mabaho ang bigas).
192
Manuel, 13, and Jessa are dismayed that civilians are all too often affected by the conflict between the
military and NPA. Jessa fears that the military might suspect his family of harboring NPA fighters and
start shooting. Manuel said: “I wish that they were far away from here where they can’t disturb the
lives of us lumad who are living in peace.” (Sana doon na lang sila sa malayo at huwag galawin
kaming mga lumad na namuhay lang ng tahimik at maayos.) Other children were more open about
their bitterness towards the military: “They violated the people’s human rights. If they say that their
enemies are terrorists, well they’re the terrorists!” (Nilabag nila ang karapatang pantao... ng
sambayanan. Kung sabihin [nilang] ang kanilang kalaban ay terorista, mas terorista sila!)
Even when the evacuues returned, they could not immediately revert to their normal ways. Parents also
said during the FGD: “We changed our system of doing work. We used to work the whole day in our
farms. We would start at seven and go home at eleven then go back again at one and then go home at
five. But after the war, we adjusted and limited our work in our farm for just an hour because we were
scared that the soldiers might come back.” (Nag-iba ang ang sistema sa trabaho, dati buong araw sa
trabaho sa sakahan, simula kami alas siyete, uwi alas onse, balik naman ala una balik sa bahay alasingko. Pero matapos ang giyera, nag-adjust kami isang oras na lang ang trabaho sa sakahan, dahil
may pangamba pa kami baka muling bumalik ang mga sundalo.)
Nina: Studying, organizing, mobilizing
In 1991, Nina’s family endured fatigue and hunger while fleeing from the bombings near their
community. She recalled, “We made our way to Trento carefully because the road we traveled on
might have land mines and thorns. We walked at night, and spent several days in the forest.” (Sa
paglikas namin sa Trento… maingat kami sa aming mismong dinaraanan dahil may itinanim na mga
landmine at [tinik]. [Naglalakad kami sa dilim] at ilang araw kaming tumira sa gubat.)
Because the armed conflict posed a threat to their lives, Nina said her father did not like the NPA:
“Before, my father was against the ways of the NPA.” (Noon, ang ama ko ay labag sa pamamaraan ng
mga NPA.) Her father actively supported government troops and informed on the NPA. One day,
Nina’s father disappeared and they heard that the NPA had taken him into custody. “My mother was
really worried because many people thought my father was already dead, but he was really still alive.”
(Ang aking ina ay talagang nag-alala dahil marami ang nagsabi na pinatay na raw [ang aking ama]
pero ang totoo ay buhay pa ito.) During his captivity, Nina’s father was given courses by the NPA on
the national situation. “My father was enlightened [by these educational discussions]. He soon returned
to the community but he was sanctioned and told not to leave the place for at least a year,” (Namulat
ang aking ama at ibinalik siya sa aming komunidad ngunit kasama ang parusa na isang taon siyang
hindi pwedeng makarating sa ibang komunidad), Nina said. Her father has been helping the NPA since
then and for a time even joined as a guerrilla. “If my father had not been taken by the NPA, we
wouldn’t be aware of how the government works. If you ask me, the NPA is right because they taught
me to love my country and not to be selfish.” (Kung hindi pa dinakip ang aking ama ay hindi kami
mamumulat sa sistema ng ating gobyerno. Kaya para sa akin ay… talagang wasto ang NPA dahil sa
kanila ko natutunang mahalin ang sariling bayan [at huwag maging makasarili].)
Nina is now 19 years old and a second year high school student. Before the May 2005 incidents, she
said the community was generally peaceful. She attended school and helped her parents with farming
whenever she could. But as soon as military operations intensified she witnessed several abuses by the
military. She wants to join the NPA and, understandably apprehensive, even her parents are helping her
overcome her fears. Nina stopped schooling for a while but is now studying again. She has decided to
finish high school, help organize the youth in her community, and mobilize them to join the campaign
to oust Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.
Remy: Organized for peace
Remy, 41, had an idyllic description of her life before the militarization. “We were happy living as
farmers. We usually ate bananas and sweet potatoes. The family lived all together in one peaceful
community. Food was abundant and no one was sick.” (Masaya…[kaming] nabubuhay bilang
magsasaka. Saging [at] kamote ang palaging pagkain. [Sama-sama] kaming magkapamilya sa isang
komunidad na walang gulo. Abundant kami [sa] pagkain at walang sakit). The first time she
experienced harassment at the hands of the military was between 1991 and 1992. “[At that time] there
was a military operation because of gold, and the NPA was also here. We farmers were accused of
193
being NPA. [The military] planted bullets in our clothes [to justify their accusations]. They used bombs
and cannons; they burned our houses, our farm animals and our clothes. Nothing was left of our
belongings. We evacuated to Lingig.” (Noon… may operasyong militar dahil sa ginto at mayroon rin
NPA. Pinagbintangan kaming magsasaka na mga NPA. Nilagyan nila ang aming damit ng bala para
masabi nila na NPA ang naglagay. May bomba at kanyon, sinunog ang bahay namin, hayop at damit.
Walang naiwan sa aming mga gamit. Namakwit kami sa Lingig.)
Nearly 15 years after her community’s traumatic experience during militarization, Remy related her
most recent brush with military violence: “[The military] shot my 29-year-old nephew Danny in our
farm. He was accused of being an NPA member, and of always warning the NPA if army soldiers were
in their house. Danny asked [one of the soldiers], ‘Sir, please bring me to the hospital.’ They brought
him to the hospital and interrogated him along the way. When we arrived at the hospital, he was
already dead. Maybe if they had brought him to the hospital right away, he would have survived.”
(Binaril nila ang aking pamangkin na si Danny, 29 years old, doon sa amin. Pinagbintangan siyang
NPA at palagi daw nagre-report sa NPA na may sundalo sa kanilang bahay…Nagsabi si Danny, ‘Sir,
dalhin mo ako sa ospital.’ Dinala siya at maraming interogasyon sa kanya habang [nakasakay]
patungong ospital. Pagdating namin sa hospital, namatay siya. Kung [dumeretso sana] kami sa
ospital… mabubuhay pa.)
Remy said they stayed at an evacuation center for nine days. “[We got sick all the time] because we
took our farm animals with us to the evacuation center. The place was unsanitary, and there wasn’t
enough water. Some of us got malaria, others had fever and diarrhea.” (Marami [kaming] sakit [na]
naranasan dahil ang [mga] alagang hayop namin ay kasapi sa evacuation. Walang sanitation, walang
sapat na tubig. Ang sakit namin ay malaria, lagnat, pagtatae.) Remy said that in case of future military
operations, she hopes the soldiers will respect their right as indigenous people to live in peace. But she
acknowledged the importance of the women’s organization in the community in coping with the effects
of armed conflict: “We need a strong and solid women’s organization for peace and progress in the
community, for the sake of the next generation of young people.” ([K]ailangan ng [matatag] at solido
na organisasyon ng kababaihan para umunlad at [maging] mapayapa ang komunidad alang-alang
sa… sumusunod pang henerasyon ng kabataan.)
Community coping
After the May 2005 incidents, the community tried to address their most basic needs and concerns:
“We tried to be brave so that we could accept what had happened.” (Tinatagan namin ang loob para
matanggap ang pangyayari.) The residents took care of their economic needs first. They assessed the
condition of their farms to try and claim compensation from the military for the damaged agricultural
products and other losses they sustained during the military operations. Little by little, farms and fields
were cleared and prepared for planting. The community began the process of coping, seeking the help
of the local government unit as well as various NGOs. Community teachers prepared modules for
lessons to help the students overcome their fears and relieve their stress. A few children reportedly
succumbed to depression, while one is said to have suffered a nervous breakdown. The community
says they need the assistance of human rights organizations to present their grievances to the proper
authorities, and to demand reparation. They say that moral support will help them recover from their
traumatic experiences.
The council of elders together with a local NGO and the LGU put their appeal for the military to pull
out of their community in writing – but the AFP representative refused to sign it.
Ka Oris: On children and the armed struggle
According to Ka Oris, NDFP spokesperson for Mindanao, the NPA regional command already had a
policy on applicants to the NPA even prior to the 1999 memo. Able-bodied and responsible males
below 17 were accepted but females below 17 were not, and no one under 15 was accepted; these
young soldiers were also dispersed, with as much as possible only one assigned per squad. NPA
fighters this young were most often found in interior areas fully supporting the revolutionary
movement. “These were very solid communities who wanted their children to join. They were very
insistent... Among the national minorities protecting their communities with weapons is common. They
wanted their children to join the NPA because they saw the NPA as protectors of their communities.”is
(Mga communities na solid na solid na kung saan gusto na nila ang kanilang mga anak ay sumali na.
194
Iyong namimilit na ba… Ang kultura kasi sa mga national minorities, halos lahat sila ay humahawak
ng itak in defense of their community. Gustohin na din nila kasi parang ganoon na rin ang NPA.) Ka
Oris said that it was also in such areas where the “very rare” underaged applicants were found, because
of pressure especially from the parents. In any case, he said that the NPA regional command makes
sure to remind its units that the age policy in recruitment is absolute and that the ages of new recruits
are noted in every assessment report.
The NDFP leader also distinguished between AFP and NPA recruitment: “We don’t recruit big
numbers in one swoop. Our units are in the communities everyday and know those who are applying.
[If they’re underaged] they tell them, maybe next time or just do this or that [in your village] first.”
(Hindi naman pabugso o malakihan ang recruitment natin. Kasi araw-araw iyong mga yunit natin
naka-ikot yan sa mga communities. Alam nila iyong nag-aapply. Sige sa sunod na lang, gumawa ka na
lang muna ng mga ganito.) He said that this is unlike the practice in the “bourgeois army” which
“doesn’t have a mass base and has to publish and ask for applications, [which] announces on the radio,
[which] recruits this much for the PMA (Philippine Military Academy) or this division. Those looking
for jobs are made to apply.” (Hindi kasi yan katulad sa army ng burgesya. Kasi wala silang base,
magpublish sila, ngayon application. Lahat kayo mag-submit ng application papers. I-announce nila
iyon sa radio, mag-recruit ang PMA ng ganito karami, mag-recruit ang division ang ganito karami,
mag-apply kayo dun. Iyong mga interesado maghanap ng hanapbuhay mag-apply sila doon.) He said
the NPA does not recruit en masse, and indeed cannot do so for practical reasons. They have to be
careful, Ka Oris said, not to let undesirable elements in who could damage the credibility or reputation
of the NPA. Neither do they want to have the logistical and troop management problems attendant to
having a prematurely large standing army.
But Ka Oris also opined that notwithstanding the formal 1999 policy on the minimum age requirement
for NPA fighters, this requirement in some ways runs against the practical experience of communities
and the subjective feeling of applicants. For instance, he said that there are 17-year-olds who cry when
told that they cannot yet be accepted and so: “We have to take the time to explain to them because they
really will cry. You really have to appease them and convince them that you have good reasons for
rejecting them. Actually it’s not rejecting them because you can’t do that; you don’t tell them that
they’re rejected. You tell them thay they’re eventually going to turn 18 so they should just wait… They
are not being asked to leave the movement. They remain comrades.” (Kailangang matagal na paguusap diyan dahil iiyak iyon eh. Kelangang i-appease mo talaga siya kailangang i-convince mo siya na
makatarungan iyong pagtanggi mo sa kanya. Hindi na nga pagtanggi dahil hindi mo puwedeng
tanggihan iyon; hindi pagtanggi iyong explanation mo sa kanya. Dahil aabot ka naman ng dise-otso,
hintayin natin iyon... Pero hindi ka namin pinaalis sa kilusan. Tuloy-tuloy pa rin ang paggiging
kasama mo.)
He said there are young people who feel like this because they know that they are old enough to
contribute to productive work in their homes and communities. And yet they are not old enough to join
the NPA. The NDFP spokesperson pointed out that this may be an insight others may find difficult to
grasp: “If you compare the productive life of a child of the bourgeoisie and that of a peasant – the
children of the bourgeoisie can be 20 years old and still not have to plow fields because they can
simply live off income [their class] has derived from exploitation.” (Kung ihambing natin ang
productive life, ang productive age ng anak ng mga burgis sa productive age ng anak ng mga peasant
sa burgis maski 20 years old ka di mo kailangang magararo dahil binubuhay ka ng mga galing sa
exploited income ng mga burgesya.) He argued that for the children of the masses, the loss of
childhood is often unavoidable because they are forced to work early for their own and their family’s
survival.
Another responsible CPP cadre, Ka Marevic, stressed that children in poor rural communities – and
especially lumad areas – are unlike upper class children. They already know how to make a living for
themselves and their families at young ages. She also asked rhetorically: “Who owns the big factories
that employ child laborers? Is it the NPA? It’s the bourgeoisie.” (Sinong may-ari ng mga malalaking
pagawaan na mayroong mga [batang manggagawa]? [NPA] ba? Ang mga burgesya.) In the analysis
of these officials, that even very young children cannot afford to finish school and are driven to toil in
sweat shops and factories is more immoral than children taking up arms to liberate themselves from the
constant threat of militarization.
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COMPOSTELA VALLEY
Mapating town has a long history. In the early days of its settlement, the heads of the founding families
took on the role of Matikadongs or elders, and Magtatambags or advisers. They formed a council to
help resolve disputes and address communal concerns. Many villages within the town are named after
things familiar to locals: crops, plants, tools for agricultural production and the like.
The Mandaya and Mansaka are among the indigenous peoples that have settled in the area along with
other migrants from all corners of the country. Many of the earliest settlements sprouted on the banks
of the Agusan River which traverses the entire province. The road network was very limited in the
1950s, during the waves of migration and this river ferried people and agricultural products up and
down the length of the province.
In 1957, logging companies started operating in the area, leading to an increase in infrastructure
development especially roads and bridges. The first logging companies were among those that
eventually became the biggest in Mindanao. Once the area became a beehive of logging activities,
more and more migrants settled there, contributing to the already rapid population growth and
generating more economic activity.
Around 70 percent of the town’s land area is covered with thick forests; some 20 percent is used for
agricultural land while the rest is used for residential, commercial and industrial purposes. The locals’
main source of livelihood is upland farming and the major crops include rice, banana, corn, coffee, and
abaca. These incomes are augmented by various forms of informal work such as carpentery or driving
motorcycles. The men are mainly responsible for working the fields, although the women – apart from
their household duties – assist seasonally, bring the produce to the town market, and tend to the raising
of livestock.
Residents of Barangay Kinabalin say that life was peaceful until the mid-1970s when military
operations started to be conducted in their community: “We lived in peace even if we were poor.”
(Payapa ang aming pamumuhay kahit mahirap lang kami.) Communal farming was practiced and their
husbands tilled the land and made a living off it even if they didn’t own it. They harvested rice and
corn every five months. According to the women there was no titled ownership of land until recently.
The terms of land use, or land rights, were determined by the community. Their source of livelihood
was enough to meet their daily needs also because basic goods used to be cheaper – unlike at present
when expenses have grown because of the rising costs of farming implements and inputs. There was a
strong sense of community: families participated in public gatherings such as the bayle or fiesta, and
when someone died, community members gave financial aid to the bereaved family.
Education and health
There used to be an elementary school in the sitio visited, but this was closed in the mid-1980s when
the local government could no longer afford to pay for a teacher for the school. Since then children
have had to go to either of two schools, both of which are some ten kilometers away. Both are difficult
to get to with children having to several times cross a river, waist-deep in some places, on their way to
either school. Since no footbridges are available, many parents accompany their children especially
during the rainy season to help them in what could be a dangerous river-crossing. Rampant logging in
the surrounding forests means that the banks of the river overflow during the rainy season, also making
it impossible for anyone to travel to town and buy provisions. Children then often miss school in the
rainy months. Children, and some mothers, have opted to stay with relatives nearer the schools and to
come home to Sitio Latian only on weekends.
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Table 17: Monitored Armed Confrontations Between The New People's Army and Government Forces - Compostela Valley Province
KILLED
WOUNDED
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
3
4
3
16
3
-
1
-
4
-
20
19
1
-
-
20
DATE
Incidents
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
CAPTURED
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
3
1
-
-
-
-
44 +
undetermined
#
-
-
-
-
197
The parents are obviously committed to giving their children an education despite the absence of a
school in their sitio. Most children are able to get some level of elementary education, although not all
finish. Few are able to go on to high school.
There are no health centers or doctors in the immediate vicinity. A midwife comes to visit once a
month and, although rarely having medicines for common ailments, she is usually able to bring
vaccines for infants. Among children the most common health problems are cough, colds, fever, and
asthma. The elderly say that arthritis – according to them due to soaking their feet too long in wet rice
paddies – and hypertension are common. Patients typically rely on the manghihilot or the albularyo,
local traditional healers, to cure them of their afflictions. It is only the seriously ill or gravely injured
who make an effort to travel to the center of Kinabalin for medical attention. It is common for pregnant
women to forego pre-natal examinations since obstetric care is still inaccessible. Unless pregnant
women are willing and able to travel to the nearest hospital to give birth, their deliveries are commonly
assisted by a local hilot or a midwife whenever the latter happens to be visiting.
Women talk about armed conflict
The women of the village recalled that the NPA began their organizing work in the region in 1972, the
year that Martial Law was declared. In 1975, fighting reached such a level that the military declared a
sitio of their barrio as “No-Man’s Land”. The women recalled an NPA raid on a military camp in 1984
after which the men of the community were forced to leave their homes for fear of being accused as
NPA supporters.
In recent years though, a farmer said during the parents FGD, “There’s no trouble even if we see or
come across the armed group (NPA)… They’re courteous, even being the first to greet and introduce
themselves.” (Walang gulo kahit nakikita o nakakasalubong namin ang mga armadong grupo…
Magalang sila nauuna silang bumati at nagpapakilala.) The most recent incidents of fighting
happened in 2003 and 2004. One morning in June 2003, in a densely forested mountain astride the
community, an NPA unit ambushed the AFP and killed several soldiers. A military detachment was
erected in the area of the ambush shortly after this. In 2004, there was an NPA sniping incident
elsewhere which prompted the military to camp in the area for a long time.
The women associate military operations with interrogations, human rights violations and psy-war
tactics. They said military operations are a burden to the community because farming activities are
disrupted and their livestock like pigs and chickens end up missing, presumably stolen by soldiers for
their food. They can have only a few kilos of rice with them at a time lest they be accused of feeding
the NPA. Because of the unease caused by the soldiers’ presence in their community, even household
chores are neglected. A parent noted: “We’re very scared because of the security [situation], we’re
always accused of being sympathizers or conniving with the rebels even if it isn’t true.” (Matindi ang
aming takot dahil sa seguridad, palagi kaming pinagdududahan na simpatisador o kasabwat ng mga
rebelde, kahit hindi naman totoo.) Another added, “There are some of us who share the principles that
the rebel group is fighting for but [the difference is that] we’re not armed.” (May mga ilan sa amin na
may pagkilala sa mga prinsipyong ipinaglalaban ng rebeldeng grupo pero hindi naman kami armado.)
Families become scared and restless, the women say, and are unable to sleep soundly because they
always have to be on alert in case they need to evacuate. Their daily chores are interrupted. Some brave
working in the fields despite the possibility that the military might accost them for interrogation, but
many parents say they can get too scared to even harvest their crops. At any rate, work in the fields has
to be limited because even though the military does not impose any curfew, the men make it a point to
go home before nightfall to avoid military checkpoints or soldiers patroling the mountainside and the
areas near their fields.
In the end, however, making a living for day-to-day survival forces them to set aside their fears. “Our
biggest problem is making a living because we don’t have enough carabaos for farming. We buy
everything from rice seeds to fertilizer and pesticide, and on top of all that the prices of basic goods are
too high.” (Ang pinakamalaking problema namin ay kabuhayan, dahil iilan lang ang pag-aaring
kalabaw na magagamit sa pagsasaka. Lahat ng kailangan ay binibili, gaya ng binhi, abono at
pestisidyo, at masyadong mataas ang presyo ng mga bilihin).
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Women want an end to war, lasting peace in their community, and their families intact. One said,
“What I wish to happen is for our community to receive basic social services from the government so
that we can progress.” (Ang gusto kong mangyari ay sana mabigyan kami ng serbisyong pamahalaan
upang umunlad ang aming pamumuhay.) Others wish to benefit from NGOs’ services and to revive the
women’s organization in their community. At the same time a parent was apprehensive about recent
developments: “Land canvassers have already come in to measure land for the banana plantation, and
others are planning to dig up the mountain for mining.” (Pumasok na rin ang ilang mga canvasser ng
lupa na sasakupin ng plantasyon ng saging at may iilang nag babalak na maghukay kasi daw ang mga
bundok dito ay may mina.)
Recent fighting
The residents said that the most recent disturbance due to armed conflict in their lives began as a result
of military operations following a firefight in the outskirts of their village in 2003. The rural quiet of
their community was suddenly broken by shots and explosions in the distance. Children recalled that
their teacher refused to let them out of their sight that whole day. When their parents fetched them, it
was only then that they saw soldiers in their village butchering chickens and cooking their meals.
Villagers recall immediately worrying about one of their neighbors, Barto, who was ordered by AFP
soldiers to guide them. He remained missing even when the soldiers returned from the fighting bearing
their casualties. When the soldiers withdrew to tend to their wounded, Barto’s family began to look for
him in earnest. One of the community residents said she saw a muddied shovel in her backyard and
noticed that the flowers in her garden were gone. Some neighbors helped her and they found their
missing neighbor buried there. His face was bruised and cut in places, his body riddled with bullets.
The community usually buries their dead in land that the deceased’s family owns, even in their own
backyard, so when Barto’s body was found the men of the community reburied him in his family’s
plot.
Children recalled how they became afraid for their families, especially for their fathers who worked in
the fields late into the night. They also felt sorry for Mang Barto whom they said was a good person
killed by the soldiers because they suspected him of being an NPA member. One child lamented:
“Civilians should be left out of this. Mang Barto should not have been killed.” (Sana hindi
[nadadamay] ang sibilyan. Dapat hindi pinatay si Mang Barto.)
Yet the military presence continued, making the community anxious and adding to the climate of fear
already created by the sounds of battle. Some 50 families immediately evacuated to Balicasag
elementary school nearby, trying their best to secure their carabaos, but mostly forced to leave their
animals and most belongings behind. Mothers with infants and small children had a hard time crossing
the river during the trek. Classes were suspended while the classrooms were used by the evacuees,
which disrupted the schooling of the children. A few human rights and peasant NGOs contributed relief
goods and the local government took the lead in facilitating the return home of the evacuees.
Eventually some 500 families were (momentarily) displaced. Most families returned home after two
weeks, although others stayed away for more than a month and a few families were so fearful that they
chose to move away entirely by joining relatives in other villages.
Those who returned to their homes still found it difficult to go back to their normal routines. Parents
did not begin to work regularly in their fields right away for fear of the military and that another clash
might once again take place. Most community members seem to accept the imminence of war with one
woman putting it succintly: “War is inevitable because there are two forces hostile to each other, and
both are armed.” (Talagang may giyera dahil may nagtutunggaliang pwersa at may mga armas sila.)
Life remains difficult but parents in any case have no recourse: “We’ll keep on trying [to improve our]
farming to overcome our poverty. We hope the military operations in our farms end so that we can
farm quietly and in peace.” (Mas paghusayin pa namin ang pagsasaka para makaahon sa kahirapan.
Sana wala nang operasyon ng sundalo sa aming mga bukirin upang makakapagsaka kami ng maayos
at matiwasay.)
In the end most of the children’s hopes remain basic: to finish school and get jobs. One said, “I wish
the roads were better, and that bridges be put up so it’ll be easier to go to the fields and so that it
wouldn’t be so hard for some children to go to school in Balicasag.” (Sana maayos na ang daan at
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magawa ang mga tulay para mas madaling pumunta sa bukirin at para hindi na mahirapan ang ibang
bata na pumasok sa paaralan sa sentro ng Balicasag.) Another child wished that a teacher would once
again be deployed to Sitio Latian so that children wouldn’t have to go so far away to study. One child
said, “Hopefully peace will be restored, and the clash between the military and the rebels won’t happen
again.” (Sana maging malinawon na at hindi na uli mangyari ang sagupaan ng mga sundalo at
rebelde.)
Ambo: Red family
Sixteen-year-old Ambo comes from a family that has given, and is giving, much to the armed struggle.
He is the second eldest of five siblings. Both their parents were full-time fighters of the NPA. Their
father had to return to civilian life and farming a few years ago because he became sick and could not
cope with the mobile and often harsh guerrilla life; he was killed by soldiers in 2003. Their mother
remains with the NPA as a full-time medical officer. Ambo’s older sister just turned 18 and has joined
their mother in the NPA, albeit in a different unit. Ambo, who only finished the third grade, is now
responsible for taking care of his siblings aged 7-14 years old.
He recalled how soldiers and some CAFGU paramilitaries killed his father. One afternoon, Ambo and
three of his siblings went to a neighbor’s house to watch television. They asked their father if he
wanted to come but he said that he was just going to stay home to listen to the radio and would wait for
them at dinnertime. When the children returned after a little over an hour, “The radio was still turned
on and my father was gone.” (Nadatnan ko na tumutunog pa ang radyo ngunit wala na ang tatay ko.)
They waited, asked around a little in the immediate area, and then after a sleepless night looked for
their father in earnest. After three days a neighbor ran to them and said that their father was sprawled in
the cornfield Ambo’s family tended: “We went right away but he was already dead. He had been shot
in the mouth, and it looked like they beat him first because his body was bruised and his lips were cut
and bloody.” (Agad naming pinuntahan ngunit bangkay na ng aming abutan. May tama sa bibig na
tumagos sa kanyang batok, at mukhang pinahirapan sya dahil maraming bugbog sa katawan at putok
ang kanyang mga labi.) Ambo is angry: “My father didn’t do anything wrong, he was already retired
(from the NPA) and was a simple farmer because he was old and was also sick, but those heartless
soldiers still killed him.” (Walang kasalanan ang aking tatay, namahinga na nga siya at simpleng
magsasaka na lamang dahil matanda na at may sakit pa, pero pinatay pa rin siya nga mga walang
pusong sundalo.)
After burying their father, the family packed up and moved to another part of the province because they
were afraid the military would come back for them. Ambo recounted changing residences and stopping
school six times, which explains his just being at the third grade despite his age. The most recent
occasion was in 2005 when, he said, the military started showing around a picture of their youngest
brother: “The soldiers blew-up his picture and posted it at their detachment with the words ‘son of
NPA’.” (Ang larawan ay pinalaki at ipinaskil ng mga sundalo sa kanilang detatsment at nilagyan ng
markang “anak ng NPA”.) He says: “I remember that picture which was taken when my youngest
brother finished daycare and he wrote his whole name on it and sent it to our Nanay (mother).”
(Maalala kong ang picture na yon ay kinunan noong nagtapos sa daycare ang aking nakababatang
kapatid at kanyang sinulatan ng buong pangalan at ipinadala sa aming Nanay.) The dedication said: “I
love you Nanay (mother).” Ambo’s neighbors advised him and his siblings to, again, change residence.
Ambo said that he is just waiting a few years before also joining the NPA, like his parents and sister
before him. In the meantime he mentioned how he assured his mother the last time he saw her: “Don’t
worry Nanay (mother), you can go back to your work where you’ll be able help so many more of the
poor as a medic. I’ll take care of my brothers and sisters.” (Huwag kang mag alala ‘Nay, bumalik ka na
sa gawain mo dahil mas marami kang matutulungang mahihirap sa iyong panggagamot. Ako na ang
bahala sa aking mga kapatid.)
Dulia: Defending fighters
Dulia, 27, is mother to two small boys. In 2005, her family was interrogated by soldiers after some
NPA backpacks containing medical supplies were found in a hut of theirs beside their farm. Dulia
knew that these had been left behind by the NPA because more than 40 of them were recently in their
village, but had to withdraw hastily at dawn when they found out that soldiers were advancing into the
area: “They were actually a medical group to help the sick in our community. The others helped in our
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production by planting in our farms.” (Iyon kasi ay grupong medikal na tumutulong sa mga may sakit
dito sa aming lugar. Ang ibang kasama nila ay nasa produksyon, nagtatanim.) As they had to leave in
a hurry, Dulia presumed that the guerrillas probably decided to leave their things in the hut. She said, “I
pity them because they had no shoes or a slipper on, and that’s why many of them most likely found it
difficult to run. I think it was still dark when they fled and they had to negotiate a steep
ravine.”(Kawawa naman sila kasi wala silang mga sapatos o tsinelas man lang kaya marami ang
nahirapang tumakbo. At alam kong napakadilim ng kanilang dinaanan at matarik pa ang bangin.) She
added that the children of one of the guerrillas lived in their village and were even her own son’s
playmates.
When Dulia and her husband were brought to the military detachment they had to take their younger
son with them. The boy was present during the interrogation: “A soldier even asked my son if his father
had a gun. I answered the soldier but he got mad and said, ‘Don’t answer me, I’m not talking to you.
I’m asking the child.’” (Pati siya ay tinanong ng sundalo kung may armas ang tatay niya. Sinagot ko
ang sundalo pero nagalit siya at sinabing, ‘Huwag kang sumagot, hindi ikaw ang kinakausap ko, ang
bata ang tinatanong ko.’). Their son managed to say, “My papa has a bolo and a scythe, and he also
has a horse.” (Ang dala ng papa ko ay sundang ug lagaraw at may kabayo ang tatay ko.) At some point
during the investigation, Dulia couldn’t help but cry in frustration because the soldiers were repeatedly
asking her the same questions, but it seemed as though they weren’t really listening to a word she was
saying. “My mother and my mother-in-law arrived together with many of our neighbors to demand our
release.” (Dumating na ang nanay ko at ang aking biyenan, at marami ring taga-baryo na kumuha sa
amin.) According to Dulia, they were arrested at nine in the morning, and were released late in the
afternoon; “We signed something attesting that the soldiers didn’t hurt us.” (May pinirmahan kami na
nagpapatunay na hindi nila kami binugbog.)
Much later, Dulia says that she ran into some members of the NPA medical team and, while
acknowledging the circumstances of their withdrawal, rebuked them for leaving their things in their hut
and exposing them to danger. She said the guerrilla apologized profusely and thanked her for not
revealing any details about them. Dulia recounted her family’s experience at the hands of the soldiers:
“We almost ended up as the sacrificial lambs!” (Kami ang muntik nang masakripisyo!) Still, she said
that she is thankful that none of the NPA fighters were hurt during the military operations.
(Nagpapasalamat din kami na walang napinsala sa grupo ng NPA sa operasyon ng sundalo.) Despite
the trauma caused by being harshly interrogated by the military because of a lapse in judgment on the
part of the NPA, Dulia cannot hold a grudge against them for long. She said that, after all, they have
helped the community in so many ways. “It’s good that the NPA is here because they are able to settle
[problematic] situations that cannot be resolved by the barangay.”(Mabuti na rin na nandito sila sa
aming lugar dahil may mga sitwasyon o mga kaso na hindi kayang lutasin ng barangay, at sila ang
tumutulong lutasin ito.) One recent example she cited is the NPA’s warning thieves in their community
to stop being a nuisance, or else they will be punished, which successfully put a stop to their stealing.
Mel: Wife of an NPA
Mel, 28, is a mother of six: five from her first marriage and one from her second marriage, with both
husbands being NPA guerrillas. Her family has long worked in upland farms. Because of poverty,
Mel’s family could only send her up to second year in high school. When she became a mother herself
she experienced the difficulties of providing for her children: “We cannot provide for the children’s
needs right away because of poverty.” (Ang pangangailangan ng mga bata ay hindi agad matugunan
dahil sa kahirapan.) She said poverty is one of the reasons she supports the revolutionary movement:
“We all know that the movement has worthy aims.” (Alam namin na ang kilusan ay may mabuting
layunin.)
Her first husband was killed in an encounter with the military in 2001, about which she learned only
five days later. “Of course I didn’t feel that he had wasted his life because I also know that we have to
be ready to give our lives for the revolution; so when I learned that he had been killed, I accepted it.
What was unacceptable was the enemies’ psy-war. Whenever it comes to mind, my blood boils.”
(Syempre hindi ako nanghinayang sa kanyang buhay dahil alam ko naman [na sa] rebolusyon ay
talagang mag-aalay tayo ng buhay... .nung nalaman ko ang nangyari, natanggap ko [agad]. Ang hindi
ko lang talaga matanggap yung psywar ng kaaway. [Pag naaalala ko,] kumukulo talaga ang dugo ko.)
The “psy-war” Mel referred to was what she had to go through with the military in her attempt to
retrieve her husband’s body.
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When she went to the town hall to claim her husband’s body, arriving early in the morning, she was
immediately accosted by a soldier: “So you’re the wife. You’re too daring for your own good. Aren’t
you ashamed that you’re claiming the body of an NPA?” (Ikaw pala ang asawa. Ang tapang mo ha...
hindi ka ba nahihiya na nag-claim ka ng isang NPA?). Mel answered him: “Sir, my husband is an NPA
but I love him and I’m not ashamed of him.” (Sir, NPA nga ang asawa ko pero mahal ko ang asawa
ko, at hindi ko siya ikinahiya kahit NPA pa siya.) The soldier responded by angrily asking her to prove
that she was indeed the wife. “He continued to humiliate me because my husband was a rebel, but I
know that there’s nothing wrong with being an NPA, and rebellion is nothing to be ashamed of because
this is the right of the people.” (Pinapahiya nya ako dahil NPA ang asawa ko pero sa aking kaalaman
hindi mali ang pagiging NPA at ang rebelyon di dapat ikahiya dahil karapatan ito ng mga tao.)
Later, according to Mel, up to seven of the soldiers were brandishing their guns with one even pointing
it at her head. She started to cry, and a soldier told her, “Stop crying. NPAs don’t know how to cry
because they can kill soldiers.” (Huwag kang umiyak diyan kasi ang NPA hindi marunong umiyak
dahil marunong yan pumatay ng sundalo.) Mel could only retort that she would file a case against them
with the Commission on Human Rights (CHR). At that point, the soldier produced a letter that Mel had
written to her husband which he read aloud, emphasizing this line: “Even though you’re far away, I’m
teaching our children just like what we learned about the revolution.” (Kahit malayo ka na ang mga
anak natin ay pinag-aral ko katulad sa pag-aaral natin sa rebolusyon.)
Amidst the harassment, Mel insisted that she be given her husband’s remains. Another soldier snapped,
“Your husband’s body was already mangled so we buried him.” (Ang asawa mo matagal nang gutaygutay – inilibing na namin.) At this Mel recalls getting emotional and demanding that they exhume the
body, with one irritated soldier even threatening to shoot her. Mel’s companions urged her to calm
down when she said that she did not care and was ready to die. Eventually, the matter was taken up
with the town mayor who said that they had to produce P6,000 to have the body dug up and treated.
Not having any money, Mel settled for a death certificate and left. As Mel was leaving she remembers
with anger how the soldiers waved their guns at her with one even shouting, “I’d really enjoy shooting
you!” (Ang sarap mo talagang barilin!).
Mel has since remarried another NPA fighter. Whenever her children ask about their father, she would
tell them: “Your father is a red fighter. His army defends the exploited masses of which we are a part.
This is why your father has the right to be in the movement. The revolution awaits us, even you, to
continue the struggle.” (Ang inyong Papa ay pulang manggugubat. [Kasama siya sa] hukbo ng
mamamayang pinagsasamantalahan. Tayo ay kasali sa mamamayang pinagsasamantalahan kaya ang
Papa nyo meron syang karapatan na sumali sa kilusan. Tayo rin, kayo din, ay hinintay sa rebolusyon
[para ipagpatuloy ito].) She said it’s too early to tell whether her children would one day take up arms
like her husbands did, but this is what she hopes they would do. “The youth have much to contribute to
the revolution which fights for the interest of the oppressed. That’s the path I want them to
take,”([B]ilang mga kabataan, malaki talaga ang kanilang tulong sa rebolusyon kasi ang rebolusyon,
interes ng lahat ng mamamayang pinagsamantalahan ang... dinadala nyan. Kaya yun sana ang gusto
kung sundin nila) she said.
Mel pledged to teach her children by example: “I will guide my children to learn about the revolution
as I myself still want to continue supporting it. I will be very happy if I see that my children grow up to
be part of it because my dream is for the revolution to triumph so we may finally achieve true
democracy.” ([Gagabayan] ko talaga ang aking mga anak sa usaping rebolusyon [at] pangarap ko
[din] talagang tumulong sa rebolusyon... [magiging] masaya talaga ako kung makita ko silang bahagi
ng rebolusyon [sapagkat] ang aking pangarap ay [maipanalo] na ang rebolusyon para matikman na
natin ang totoong demokrasya.)
Ka Ned: NPA at 16
Ka Ned, 20, is the daughter of a senior NPA cadre in Compostela Valley. She says that her family is
often harassed by the military because of that and is always under pressure to find safety elsewhere.
They end up moving from one village to another where they are not identified, always leaving farms
and homes. Her siblings often transfer to different schools. Ned ended up joining the NPA in 2001
when she was still just 16 years old: “It was difficult because I was still studying in high school and I
was already under surveillance by the enemy. There was a time when an operation was taking place. I
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had my ID on then and they (the military) caught me in our house. They saw my ID and said, ‘Ah, you
must be her daughter?’ My eldest sibling was also similarly accosted. I would wonder why they’d be
there every time I leave the house. Whenever I go out and buy something from the neighborhood store
they’d follow and ask what I just bought. I was surprised and said to myself, ‘This is getting scary.’”
(Lisud kaayo kay ga-eskuwela pako sa high school gina-surveillance nako sa kaaway. Naa may isa ka
time na adunay operation. Unya kay ga-ID naman ko, naabtan ko sa balay. Unya nakitan akong ID. Ah
ikaw diay, unsa diay ka? Anak ka ni kuwan. Giingnan pud nako na ako ang panganay na anak.
Matingala ko na mugawas lang gani ko, naa na ang mga pulis. Unya mugawas ko sa tindahan,
mudiretso dayon na sila mutanaw kung unsa ang akong gipangpalit. Matingala lang ko, kuyawa ani
oy.)
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NORTH COTABATO
Kalaong is a municipality of dozens of barangays, a large portion of whose land area covers the
Liguasan Marsh. Over three-fifths of the population is Moro with the balance being mainly Christian.
The local populace’s main source of livelihood is farming with most residents engaged in crop
production, livestock and poultry raising, and fishing. Some, however, are engaged in business and
trade especially those in the poblacion (town center).
Kalaong is noted for having vast tracts of agricultural lands. It has rich reserves of fertile clay loam
that, given the moderate climate, are well suited to the production of commercial crops like rubber,
coconuts, coffee, cacao, tobacco and food crops such as rice, corn, root crops and vegetables. The town
is also known for its abundant water supply, with its many bodies of water like rivers, creeks, streams
and swamp areas. These abound in fish like tilapia, catfish, carp and dalag, and apparently can also be
tapped for hydroelectric power if properly developed.
The village visited, Barangay Pantawan, is comprised of over 500 households. Some women and
children work in adjacent barangays as seasonal harvesters or as domestic helpers. The hard life also
drives many young women to work abroad as maids. Children are used to the difficult work and it is
common for children six to seven (6-7) years old to help their parents farm, or to be assigned household
chores. Daughters are expected to care for their younger siblings while their parents are in the farm.
Sometimes, they do not go to school if they need to work to earn extra income for the family.
Education and health care
There is an elementary school with over 300 students from grades one through six; there are six
classrooms, one for each grade level, and seven teachers. The number of enrollees reportedly increases
every year, although every time there is fighting between the AFP and the MILF, many students
transfer to neighboring schools or stop attending school altogether. It is unfortunate that the drop-out
rate has steadily increased every year since the school was put up in 2000. Many parents also find it
more and more difficult to send their children to school because of a sustained increase in the cost of
living. Consequently, some children drop out of school and become farm laborers. The school was used
as a military camp during the June 2003 fighting and parts of the building were slightly damaged from
the fighting and artillery fire.
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Table 18: Monitored Armed Confrontations Between The Moro Islamic Liberation Front and Government Forces - North Cotabato Province
KILLED
WOUNDED
MILF
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
CAPTURED
MILF
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
MILF
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
DATE
Incidents
2001
2002
7
-
10
-
-
-
3
-
8
-
-
1
-
-
-
2003
24
130 +
undetermined
#
28
-
124
71
-
18
5
-
2004
2005
1
1
-
-
1
-
2
-
-
-
-
-
PNP – Philippine National Police
Table 19: Monitored Armed Confrontations Between The New People’s Army and Government Forces - North Cotabato Province
KILLED
DATE
Incidents
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
3
2
3
WOUNDED
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
9
1
-
-
-
CAPTURED
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
4
1
-
-
NPA
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
-
-
-
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The town as a whole has limited health facilities. There is no hospital although there are seven
privately-owned clinics with a total medical personnel count of seven doctors and seven dentists. There
is only one rural health center with a doctor, three nurses, one midwife and one sanitary inspector.
Meanwhile, there are twelve barangay health stations with one midwife assigned to each.
The residents have scant access to health facilities. Instead, they go to traditional healers when they are
ill. In emergency cases, patients urgently needing medical attention have to be brought to town to see a
doctor. Some have died on their way to the clinic because it takes an hour to get there – 30 minutes by
boat and another 30 minutes by tricycle. An LGU-deployed midwife visits the community once a week
and sells medicines for fever and colds, as well as gives children anti-measles and anti-chicken pox
vaccines.
Given the backward health services in the area, reproductive health care for women is poor. They learn
about reproductive health from radio programs they listen to, and it is typical for them not to have prenatal check-ups and to give birth at home. Residents estimate that in a year, the local hilot, an
unregistered and informally trained birth attendant, delivers 50 percent more babies than the visiting
midwife. Only when the hilot finds it difficult or dangerous to handle a delivery is the woman brought
to the midwife. Culture and lack of education also affect the women’s attitude towards their
reproductive health. The women hardly have access to effective and free birth control methods. When
they do get hold of these, however, the use of pills and an IUD is often prevented by the feudalpatriarchal relations between husband and wife.
The leading causes of morbidity are bronchitis, pulmonary tuberculosis, influenza, heart diseases, skin
diseases, diarrhea, pneumonia, dog bites, chicken pox, and typhoid fever. In turn, the leading cases of
mortality are heart diseases, cancer, vehicular accidents, pulmonary tuberculosis, status asthmatous
hypertension, liver lithosis, peptic ulcer, leukemia, and chronic renal failure.
Recent fighting
Locals estimate that the AFP and MILF clash in their area once every three years. Most recently,
according to a barangay official, the AFP conducted operations allegedly because kidnap victims from
Central Mindanao had been hidden in swampy areas, particularly in the Liguasan Marsh. The
respondents said that the military merely wanted to use the specter of criminal and terrorist groups to
elicit public support for launching military operations in areas where the MILF presence is very strong.
They also say that the war in their community is not just about the MILF, criminals and terrorists but
also about the AFP being after the Liguasan Marsh’s rich resources.
In any case, a barangay official claims, it is supposed to be standard procedure for the AFP to ask the
mayor’s permission before they enter areas within his jurisdiction. If the mayor agrees, LGU officials
and other civic organizations are then asked to help residents evacuate before the scheduled military
operation. Yet in the community visited, this notice came less than a day – although according to some
accounts, three days – before the actual fighting and bombing took place.
On the other hand, the MILF in the area is in a defensive position against the military. In times of war,
said a local official, government soldiers tag innocent civilians as supporters of the MILF whom they
consider to be criminals and even terrorists.
In a consultation meeting with LGU officials in the barangay, residents affected during the 2003 war
were vocal in expressing their sentiments, saying that they preferred to live in an area which is an
MILF stronghold because: “We are used to sharing our community with them. If there’s anything
we’re afraid of, it’s war.” (Nakasanayan na naming makasama sila. Kung may kinatatakutan man
kami, ito ay walang iba kundi ang giyera.) The community residents said that the paramilitary CAFGU
seems to take advantage of their fears because they take liberties in harvesting their crops and
sometimes even steal their personal belongings. Locals also said that every time the military is present
in the area, some residents vacate their homes to avoid being subjected to abuse or harassment.
In 2003, the AFP launched an attack on Buliok Complex, Liguasan Marsh and other neighboring areas.
The Islamic Center was bombed by the AFP on February 11, 2003 while MILF chairperson Hashim
Salamat was delivering a religious lecture. The bombings lasted for a month. At the time the
government justified these sudden attacks as solely to apprehend elements of the notorious Pentagon
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Gang who had allegedly sought sanctuary in the MILF camps. Yet many residents believe that the real
target was the MILF including its leadership. The AFP claimed 157 rebels, five soldiers and one
government militiaman had been killed in the fighting as well as some 100 civilians; on the other hand,
MILF spokesperson Eid Kabalu claimed only 40 guerrillas were killed, and that military deaths and
injuries were “in the hundreds”.
Evacuations were widespread during the the Buliok offensives, with the DSWD reporting some 40,000
civilians forced to leave their homes due to artillery and aerial bombardments. There was also a DSWD
report of 39,518 evacuees in an evacuation center where refugees experienced miserable conditions. In
June 17, 2003, the refugee death toll was pegged at 215, among whom were 43 infants and children
below ten years old who died of easily preventable or treatable illnesses like measles, pneumonia, and
diarrhea. The prolonged stay of evacuees in the evacuation centers resulted in a high death toll due to
disease, congestion and inadequate food.
The town in which the research site is located reportedly saw close to 50,000 civilians displaced.9 The
respondents said they were able to go back to their communties only after a year in makeshift
evacuation centers. When some families returned to their homes, it was to discover that their houses
had been burned by the military. They had no choice but to occupy the rehabilitation housing facilities
(“rehab”) put up by NGOs.
Before the war
The children in the FGD were categorical in saying that life was happier before the war. “We were
happy because we didn’t have to stop going to school, and livelihoods were not interrupted.” (Masaya
dahil hindi natigil sa pag-aaral, hindi putol-putol ang pamumuhay.) During weekends, the children
usually learned Arabic and helped with household chores as well as with farming. “During rainy
season, we plant corn; we sometimes do not attend school or Madrasah to plant in the farm.” (Kapag
umuulan pwedeng magtanim ng mais, nag-aabsent sa skul o sa Madrasah).
For 16-year-old Mahade, life before the war was carefree. She talked about herself and her friends:
“We had fun walking to school because there were many of us, and we told each other the things we
dream about.” (Masaya kami sa aming paglalakad dahil marami kaming lumalakad at nagkwentuhan
pa kami ng aming napanaginipan.) Once, Mahade and her friends took a boat to school. “I’ll never
forget the times we rode a boat to go to school. It was so much fun because the boat sometimes sinks,
and we laugh at those who fall into the water.” (Hindi ko malilimutan ang pagsakay namin ng bangka
patungo sa paaralan. Napakasaya namin dahil kung minsan ay lumulubog ang bangka at
pinagtatawanan namin ang mahuhulog sa bangka.)
Randy, 17, also has his share of happy memories from before the war. “I’ll never forget the time my
father and I visited Cotabato (City). We ate at Jollibee where I had spaghetti, hamburger, ice cream and
much more. We saw a Robin Padilla movie and then went shopping in a mall. There were so many
clothes of different colors. I bought pants and a red shirt.” (Ang karanasang di ko malilimutan ay ang
pagpunta namin ng aking tatay sa Kotabato… pumunta kami sa Jollibee, kumain kami ng iba’t-ibang
pagkain tulad ng spageti, hamberjer, ice cream…at marami pang iba… Pumunta kami sa sine [at]
nanood ng [pelikula] ni Robin Padilla. Pagkatapos, pumunta kami sa Mega mall. Ang daming damit,
iba’t-ibang kulay... . Bumili ako ng pantalon, at saka, t-shirt na red.)
Fleeing their homes
The community residents are angry at the military’s lack of concern for the safety of evacuating
civilians. They started bombing the place even though it was clear that the residents had not completely
moved out of the area (walang patakaran sa paglabas ng sibilyan… binobomba na kahit hindi pa
nakabakwit).
Twelve-year-old Amira recounted, “At five in the afternoon, we got word of the mayor’s orders to
evacuate as soldiers were coming. We left at seven in the evening. It was eight o’clock when we
arrived in Bagoinged. Many people were arriving at the evacuation center. One of my cousins was
almost left behind. Her mother found her in a corner of the house crying. Our house was burned down.
We had to leave most of our chickens behind. It was really a crisis, but we received help from DSWD
and GMA Kapuso.” ([Noong alas singko ng hapon] nakarating ang utos ni Mayor na pumunta kami ng
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Kalaong dahil papasok ang mga sundalo sa lugar naming. Umalis kami ng alas syete. Pagdating
namin sa Bagoinged ay alas otso na. Pagdating namin sa Evacuation center, ang dami daming taong
dumating. At sa Bagoinged pala ang pinsan ko ay muntik nang maiwan…natagpuan siya [ng kanyang
nanay] sa isang gilid ng bahay na umiiyak. Ang bahay namin ay sinunog. Wala na kaming bahay. Pati
ang mga alaga naming mga manok ay naiwan. Konti lang ang nadala naming. Matindi ang krisis; buti
nalang may sumusuporta sa amin na tinatawag na DSWD at GMA Kapuso.)
Fifteen-year-old Jamer recalled, “In 2003, we walked from Sitio Buliok to Kalaong because the
soldiers had already arrived. We had our carabaos in tow, we started walking at seven in the evening.
We arrived in Kalaong at three in the morning, still scared.” ([Noong] 2003 ay nilakad namin ang
Buliok hanggang Kalaong dahil pumasok ang mga sundalo. Dala ang aming mga kalabaw, nagsimula
kaming maglakad ng 7:00 pm dumating kami 3:00 am, dala pa rin ang takot.)
Arbaya said,“I will never forget the evacuation in 2003. There were airplanes dropping bombs. I saw
many people walking because they couldn’t catch a ride to town. My family rode a jeep. Others took a
pumpboat.” (Ang karanasang di ko malilimutan ay ang pagbakwit namin sa Kalaong [noong 2003].
Mayroong eroplano na nagbobomba. Nakita ko ang maraming tao na naglalakad-lakad lang dahil
wala masakyan, dahil lahat ng jeep ay puno ng tao. Kami nagsakay kaming jeep. Ang iba naman
nagsakay ng pambot.)
Fifteen-year-old Rohamie recalled that when they were ordered to abandon their homes, what her
family dreaded most was running into the military on their way to the evacuation center. They thought,
“We might run into the soldiers and they might shoot us.” (Baka masalubong natin ang mga sundalo
[at] baka barilin nila tayo.) They grew all the more apprehensive when they couldn’t get a ride to the
evacuation center: “There were no more trucks to take us to Kalaong. All the trucks had brought the
residents to the evacuation center, and we were still in Buliok” (Wala pa kaming masakyan na trak
dahil wala nang natira… dahil lahat ng trak ay nasa Kalaong... naghatid ng mga tao na [nagevacaute] kaya kami ay naiwan dito sa Buliok.) Rohamie and her family had no choice but to walk.
“We didn’t mind that it was almost nightfall. We just kept on walking until we were able to flag down
a truck whose driver agreed to [take us to the evacuation center in Kalaong].” (Hindi na namin inintindi
nakami ay inabot ng gabi dahil basta naglakad-lakad nalang kami hanggang sa may nasalubong
kaming trak kaya pinara namin at pumayag naman ang may-arai ng trak). There was no more space in
the evacuation center when they arrived, so Rohamie and her family camped beside a mosque. Her
father returned to Buliok the next day to get their chickens, but they were already gone.
One woman who owned a small sari-sari store risked going back to her community because she
wanted to take some canned goods to the evacuation center with her. When she got there, however, she
found her store empty. She suspected soldiers of taking the goods. She also found some of her personal
belongings missing. She decided to leave right away, but as soon as she got out of her house, she said
soldiers started strafing the place. She frantically crawled away from the scene and hitched a ride on a
motorcycle back to the evacuation center.
Tonina recalled that when their family was evacuating by boat, explosions on the river made their boat
capsize, causing their belongings to fall into the water. Tonina and her husband were not able to save
any of her belongings. To make it worse, while her husband was trying to save the carabao from
drowning, his eyes were punctured by something sharp, blinding him. One of Tonina’s daughters was
shocked by everything she had witnessed. Even when they had reached the relative safety of the
evacuation center, the girl refused to talk and continued staring blankly into space. Without the benefit
of medical attention, Norhaya, the girl’s sister, patiently coaxed her into talking, and she eventually
recovered, but only after two months.
Because the order to flee was given on such short notice, not everyone could evacuate immediately.
One woman recalled civilians who could not get rides to safer places even if they were so poor that
they did not have anything with them.
Life in the evacuation center
Arbaya, 12, said that life in the evacuation center was hard for the children: “Many of us children
experienced getting sick in the evacuation center. Some even died because of illness. We couldn’t help
but be afraid and cry whenever we heard explosions. Some children got separated from their parents.
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Our family was hard up because there was nothing to eat and I couldn’t go back to school because of
the war.” (Ang karanasan naming mga bata ay minsan nagkakasakit at minsan din namamatay dahil sa
mga sakit. At saka umiiyak dahil natatakot sa mga naririnig [na] mga putok. At ang iba ay
nahihiwalay sa kanilang mga magulang. Nahihirapan kami dahil wala kaming makain at hindi kami
makapag-aral dahil may gera sa amin.) There was no electricity in the evacuation center. They had to
use improvised gas lamps. Many families spent three months there, but most stayed on for a year
because they were able to send their children to school in Kalaong.
Sometimes, food came from neighboring municipalities like Badak. Tents were provided by the Red
Cross. Though the families received rations of rice, noodles and sardines every day from different
organizations, the children continued getting sick. There was a nearby health center that gave out free
medicines, but because the conditions in the health center were unhygienic, an outbreak of scabies
occurred. Some parents believe, however, that the scabies outbreak was caused by a chemical in the
bombs that exploded in their community. “We developed scabies. Six-month-old babies had diarrhea.
A child died because the water was unsafe to drink. We got our water supply from fire trucks.”
(Nagkaroon ng kaloli; nagtatae mga batang 6 months… May isang batang namatay dahil sa tubig;
tubig ng bumbero ang supply.)
While in the evacuation center, Amira’s sister Arbaya contracted diarrhea, so they brought her to a
hospital. “Almost every day, someone died at the [evacuation center], and there were rumors that the
place would be bombed,” (Halos araw-araw ay may namamatay at may bali-balita na lalagyan ng
bomba ang evacuation center) Randy said, “We often got sick in the evacuation center.” (Madalas
kami magkasakit sa evacuation center.) His ten-year-old brother got so sick that he could no longer
talk, but Randy’s parent could not afford to bring him to the hospital. Fortunately, the boy eventually
recovered.
The consequences of war
Education is very important for the children. According to 11-year-old Eshak, “Many people lost their
livelihood in farming and even in fishing, that’s why children had to stop going to school. Our parents
had no money to spend.” (Maraming taong nawalan ng hanapbuhay sa bukid, at sa pangingisda kaya
napatigil sa pag-aaral ang kanilang mga anak, dahil walang panggastos.) Amira said, “We stopped
going to school because of the war. We’re big now, but we’re still in the low grade levels because our
schooling is constantly interrupted. I wish the war would stop so the children can keep studying.”
(Nahinto ang aming pag-aaral dahil sa gera. Kaya ho ngayon ay malaki na kami mababa pa rin ang
grade dahil pahinto-hinto. Gusto ko pong hindi na maulit ang gera para tuluy-luloy ang pag-aaral
naming mga kabataan.) For Mahade, the miserable conditions in the evacuation center made her future
look bleak: “Evacuating was very difficult for us. One time, I cried because I thought I would never be
able to go back to school. So many children died in the evacuation center.” (Nahihirapan kami sa
pagbakwit... minsan umiyak ako dahil akala ko ay hindi ko na [maiapa papatuloy] ang aking pagaaral. Sa evacuation center ay maraming mamatay na mga bata.) Ten-year-old Banwar said she loves
going to school, so it was a big blow to her when she had to stop schooling: “I feel sad when I’m not
studying. I want to help my parents and become a doctor of the people.” (Malungkot [ako] kapag hindi
nakakapag-aral. [Gusto kong] makatulong sa magulang at maging doctor ng mga tao.)
At a young age, these children have witnessed much death and destruction. They saw people diving
into foxholes and wells to take cover from the explosions. One boy saw the body of an MILF fighter
riddled with bullets. Because of this, he said, “My reverence for Islam grew.” (Tumindi ang
paninidigan [ko] sa Islam.) Even in the evacuation center, Banwar says she very often saw dead
bodies. Ten-year-old Mohamid says, “We evacuated because our house was destroyed. We left all our
clothes and all our chickens behind. We even had to stop schooling.” (Nag bakwit kami kasi nasira ang
bahay namin. Naiwan namin ang damit namin at manok namin. Natigil ang pag-aaral namin.) Racma
says the loss of income greatly added to her family’s troubles: “An additional burden was the loss of
income. My parents were very troubled. To make things worse, our house was burned down by the
military and then a bomb hit the side of our house.” (Dagdag pa ang pagkawala ng pera namin. Mas
lalong naproblemahan pa ang mga magulang ko. Nawala pa ang bahay namin dahil sinunog ng
military at natamaan ng bumba ang gilid ng bahay.) Sittie said she is pained by the fact that every time
there is a war, their house is destroyed: “My father has to rebuild our house over and over again.”
(Paulit ulit ang tatay namin [gumawa] ng bahay.)
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Aida, 13, recounted, “My siblings got sick and almost died. I felt sad thinking about my education. We
had nothing to eat [in the evacuation center] because we left all our farm animals behind, as well as our
belongings. Our house was burned by the military. I felt sad that we had no more place to live. I wish
there wouldn’t be a war so I could finish schooling.” (Nagkasakit ang aking mga kapatid at muntik
nang mamatay. Nalulungkot ako dahil [inisip ko kung] paano na ang pag-aaral ko. Mahirap talaga
kung walang makain kasi lahat ng aming alagang hayop ay naiwan namin pati ang aming mga gamit
ay naiwan namin. Pati rin ang bahay namin ay sinunog ng mga sundalo. Nalungkot rin ako dahil...
wala na kaming matirhan. Sana hindi na [magka-]gera para makatapos kami ng pag-aaral.)
Jamer said “Bombs were falling beside us and I felt an intense fear because the bombs dropped by the
airplanes killed one of my uncles who was hit by shrapnel. I experienced walking from Buliok to
Kalaong when government troops arrived in Buliok in 2003.” (Ang mga bumba ay sa tabi rin namin
nahuhulog at doon ay nadama ko ang pinakatugatog ng takot… [ang] bombang hinuhulog ng eroplano
[ay]naging sanhi ng pagkamatay ng aking tiyuhin dahil tinamaan siya ng ibang parte ng bomba.
Naranasan ko rin na lakarin ang Buliok hanggang sa Kalaong nang pumasok ang sundalo ng
gobyerno sa Buliok noong 2003.)
The children recalled a time when the mayor failed to warn them that the military was coming. As a
result, while the MILF was retreating from the war zone, people had no choice but to run for their lives:
“Bullets do not discriminate; civilians were forced to flee.” (Walang pinipili ang bala kaya napilitang
umalis [ang mga sibilyan].) According to some, “As soon as we woke up, the shooting had begun.
(Pagkagising pa lamang may putukan na.) Parents carrying their children got hit; some children were
breastfeeding infants. Some people swam to safety because the boats could no longer accomodate
them.” (May mga tinamaang dala-dala ang mga anak; may sumususo pa na sanggol. Lumangoy na
lamang ang mga tao dahil hindi mailulan ng mga bangka.)
When they returned to their community after the fighting in 2003, 12-year-old Musrifa was
disheartened upon seeing that their house was gone, along with the plants and coconut trees. She got
scared and grew anxious at the thought that the military might return: “I cried because I was afraid that
the soldiers would come back to burn our houses all over again.” (Naiyak ako dahil natakot ako dahil
baka bumalik na naman ang mga sundalo at baka sunugin nanaman nila ang mga bahay.) 11-year-old
Racma said all her family’s belongings disappeared, and suspects that the military had made off with
the wood panels from their house, but she resolved to overcome her grief: “I promised myself that one
day I would claim victory.” (Pinangako ko sa aking sarili na balang araw makakamit ko rin ang
tagumpay.)
The women of the community said they treasure “peace time” intervals, however short these are. They
seize these opportunities to work in their farms, because there are no soldiers to be afraid of. Of course
they remember a time before the onslaught of military operations when fulfilling their needs was less
difficult and work yielded enough for the families to survive. Back then, the future of their children and
their families did not look as bleak and Muslim women gained fulfillment in living off decent work.
Now, despite their having returned to their community, many women have been forced to work abroad
or for wealthier Muslim families in Lanao. A male parent volunteered the estimate that perhaps a
hundred of young and adult women have since left the village to find work elsewhere.
The MILF and its stuggles
Although they do not say it directly, the children during the FGD seemed to be sympathetic to the
MILF and its cause. They said Islam teaches only what is good, and that jihad happens when their
rights are trampled on ([Ang] itinuturo ng Islam ay kabutihan lamang. Nangyayari ang jihad kapag
niyuyurakan ang karapatan.) Some admitted that their families support MILF fighters by giving them
rice. They say that joining the MILF is voluntary. Indeed, whenever there is a clash with the military
they say that they pray for the MILF fighters.
Though the consequences of war make little sense to these children, they are able to articulate why
there is a war, and why there is heavy military presence in their communities. One said, “The
government has failed to give the Moros their right to Mindanao. Islam [is not allowed to] reign.”
(Hindi binibigay ng gobyerno ang karapatan ng Moro sa Mindanao. Hindi nangingibabaw ang Islam.)
They know that the military has two targets: terrorist kidnappers and the MILF: “The military takes
over the MILF camps because they don’t like them; the powers that be don’t like them.” ([Inaagaw
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ang kampo ng MILF dahil] hindi gusto ng sundalo [at] hindi nagustuhan ng mga nakakataas). On the
other hand, these children realize that the soldiers are merely following orders: “It’s not the choice of
soldiers of the Special Action Forces (SAF) to wage war. They’re just following orders because that’s
how they make a living.” (Hindi kagustuhan ng sundalo (SAF) ang gera kundi sumusunod sa utos dahil
sa hanapbuhay). Instead, the children blamed the presidents who, over the years, have engineered
policies to wipe out rebel groups in Mindanao, without regard for the civilians who will inevitably be
affected by such operations.
Despite the hardships that have come their way, these children still have the capacity to dream of a
better future. Twelve-year-old Fahad said he wants to finish school (makatapos ng pag-aaral). Jamer
wished for a scholarship and for children never to experience war (makatanggap ng scholarship; ang
mga anak hindi makaranas ng gera). Norhina said she wants to become president of the Philippines
because with her high position in government, she could help the youth (mataas ang posisyon –
makatulong sa mga kabataan). Eshak said he wants to become a policeman and catch thieves (gustong
maging pulis – nanghuhuli ng mga kawatan). Anwar dreams of becoming a doctor “in order to help the
sick” (para makatulong sa mga may sakit). Amira only dreams of freedom for her people: (gustong
makuha ang kalayaan ng Bangsamoro). The children are aware of the obstacles to realizing their
dreams. These include war (gera), poverty (kahirapan), tuition fee increase (pagtaas ng tuition),
corruption (korapsyon), drugs (droga), and laziness (pagiging tamad).
Always starting from nothing
Despite the MILF and Philippine government peace talks and the desires of locals for peace, the
parents of the community noted that the militarization of their communties remains a harsh reality. One
of the men related that when they returned to their community from the evacuation center, they saw
that the coconut trees which had survived the bombings had been used by the military to build their
camps. The military also stayed on in their areas long after the fighting with the MILF. “Though we
were happy to return, we often felt miserable and sad.” (Masaya na rin noong nakabalik dito,[pero]
kunsumido, [at] palaging malungkot.) However, as they say, “one acquires more courage with every
wound” (lalong tumatapang kapag nasusugatan). One of the parents said, in English, “We do not
consider the person of Mrs. Gloria Macapagal Arroyo as our enemy, but [we want to] make it clear to
the international community that the enemy of MILF is the system of government of the Philippines.
Because we have experienced so much oppression, we gather in our mind and we focus in our heart to
defend our homeland [and] to defend our countrymen, the Bangsamoro.”
A respondent in the women FGD declared: “We keep starting over from nothing. We are attacked, our
properties are gone, our houses, as well as our places of worship and our schools are burned down.”
(Paulit-ulit kaming nagsisimula sa wala. Inaatake kami, [nawawala] ang aming properties,
[nasusunog] ang aming mga bahay, [ang] aming mga simbahan, pati ang madarasa.) The women
described the post-war recovery period as going “back to zero” in terms of agricultural production. One
woman who found herself in conditions worse than before was forced to mortgage the family’s land.
For the rest, all of their crops were destroyed, and they could only hope to recover from the destitution
they suddenly found themselves in. Little by little, each family strived to revive their sources of
livelihood. Some planted vegetables and flowers in their backyards, while their farms were being
prepared for planting.
Government agencies assisted in reviving their livelihoods, but the aid was often inadequate for
sustainable economic production. For instance, their local cooperative organization lacked funds to
help the farmers get back on their feet. The DSWD promised to support them for three months but they
were only given farming inputs enough for a month. As a result, Muslim women started leaving for the
United Kingdom and the United States to work as domestic helpers: “Women leave home to seek work
abroad… they see no hope here so they are trying their luck overseas.” (Ang mga kababaihan ay
nangingibang bansa... wala nang pag-asa dito kaya nakikipagsapalaran sa ibang bansa.)
Meanwhile, their problems seem endless. For most of the women, tending a farm means incurring a
long list of debts. While their returns can range from P10,000-15,000 a year, much of this is eaten up
by paying for past debts. Tambay, a mother of seven, says that not a single centavo is left for her family
after their debts have been paid – hence they are caught in an endless cycle of borrowing money. The
women say that with two harvests per year, “our livelihood isn’t enough to support us” (di sapat ang
kabuhayan). Some are able to harvest more than the others do, having been able to master collective
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farming methods. Yet many men often have to seek income from occasional fishing or odd jobs,
working as construction workers, “toiling to build the homes of rich folks” (nagla-labor sa
pagpapatayo ng bahay ng mga big shot). In spite of all their troubles, they say that their earnings are
still not enough to send their children to school (di sapat ang labor sa pagpapaaral ng anak).
What they feel will solve this perpetual economic crisis is peace in Mindanao. They wish that the
government and the MILF can finally come to terms through peace talks because so many lives have
been sacrificed (dahil marami nang buhay na naibuwis). The widowed women of the community feel
that enough lives have been lost in the Moros’ struggle for self-determination: “We have lost our
husbands who fought for [the people’s] rights.” (Namatayan kami ng asawa dahil [ipinaglalaban nila]
ang aming karapatan.) They believe that for the war to end, the government has to relinquish the
ancestral domain that rightly belongs to their people, recognize the independence of the Moros, and
leave them to govern themselves according to the Q’uran. One man asserted, “because of the hardships
we’ve experienced in Mindanao, should lord Allah allow it, we must have our freedom.” (Dahil [sa]
paghihirap na dinaranas namin dito sa Mindanao, kung ipagkakaloob ng panginoong Allah, dapat
sana nasa amin na ang kalayaan.)
Abdul: Reluctant but determined
Abdul, 22, is today a farmer in one of the small towns of North Cotabato. Six years ago, at 15, he was a
young mujahideen in Camp Abu Bakr – a major MILF base that came under government attack in
2000.
In 1991, Abdul’s family moved from Kabacan, North Cotabato, a predominantly Christian town, to
Camp Abu Bakr because of better livelihood opportunities offered by the MILF. Although a military
camp where training and other related activities took place, the camp was also a community where
Moro families resided. Unlike their experience in Kabacan where they felt like economic and cultural
outcasts, Abdul’s family felt at home in the camp among fellow Moro. They were given a piece of land
to till, and also provided support in their first months there. For Abdul’s father who is an Ustadz or
religious teacher, their decision to move was correct because his children would be immersed in the
religious practices in the camp. Abdul’s family lived an idyllic life under Islam in Camp Abu Bakr for
a year – until they ended up among the tens of thousands of civilian victims of President Joseph
Estrada’s “all-out war” in 2000.
At the young age of seven, Abdul was already aware of the young mujahideens. He understood that
these young people were undertaking an important task under Islam. Just like other members of the
community, he looked up to these young men for their courage in taking up arms at a young age. This
courage was considered as a testament to their faith in Allah. Abdul shared the sentiments of the
mujahideen fighters that faith in Allah would protect them and make their deaths meaningful.
However, unlike his brother who was one of these young mujahideen, it was not Abdul’s desire to take
up arms. He was content with his studies and with helping his family by working from time to time.
While he observed that other young men were inclined towards being mujahideen because they
enjoyed it, or were motivated by the desire for revenge, Abdul wanted to be an ustadz just like his
father. As a believer in Islam, he made sure that his every action pleased Allah and he felt it was his
calling to draw people closer to Him.
Abdul recognizes the animosity that exists between the Christians and Muslims. Speaking through an
interpreter, he decried that “When something bad happens, Muslims are immediately tagged as the
terrorists. The true Muslim will not do anything bad just like a true Christian. It is your responsibility
as a Muslim to turn your back against anything that is bad.” When asked why he joined the armed
movement when he was just 15 years old, he explained that it was his deep religious obligation to
defend the oppressed and above all his love for his community that caused him to take up arms: “Based
on the Q’uran, if you are oppressed, Allah commands you to fight.” He knew from stories by his elders
that while not all soldiers are abusive, there are some who intentionally target innocent civilians. He
added: “Once soldiers gain entry [into our communities] they kill Muslims indiscriminately]…
Whether we decide to fight or not, they will kill us nonetheless.” When the military attacked his
community, the reluctant Abdul said that he was left with no choice but to defend it. “That place, we
really love that place. In that place, we live under the guidance [of Islam]. It is part of our lives,” he
said of Camp Abu Bakr.
212
Some time before 2000, he was assigned to be part of a blocking force guarding the camp. He recalled
that they were 30 MILF fighters facing an estimated 800 military soldiers. “We were positioned in an
area where soldiers [could gain entry]. The miltary asked for permission to cross the Narciso Ramos
highway, and so orders were given by Haji Murad and Hashim Salamat to reposition the troops to
allow the soldiers to pass. The military said that once they have passed, there will be no fighting.
However we noticed that the soldiers didn’t just pass [but were entering the camp].” Abdul and his
group endured hunger while preparing for an impending firefight. When the onslaught began, the first
shooting battle of young Abdul’s life, many of them were killed right away until there were only five of
them left. “The others were either killed or were wounded,” he says, “I prayed for Allah to help us
because there were so many soldiers… It was probably five o’clock, the sky grew dark, and it started
raining. The military moved back, and later that night, we retreated.” Abdul and the four other
surviving mujahideen went back to the main camp. Abdul returned to his mother.
In 2000, a month-long bombing operation was waged by the government against their community. The
bombs and shells fell on the perimeter areas at first but then inched closer to the camp with every
passing day. When he was asked why the civilians remained in the camps despite the bombing, he said
that the wives and children of the MILF fighters could not bear to leave their loved ones in the
battlefield. “It was so difficult because they would time the bombings when you were reciting the daily
prayers, [mealtimes, and at night when people are trying to sleep]… The bombings seemed to be done
deliberately during these activities.” By his estimates, about 500 rounds of artillery were fired at them
every day. He remembered how his mother and siblings comforted each other in times like this: “They
would say, if Allah doesn’t want us to die, we will not die. If God wills it… then we will die.”
Eventually people in the camp could not eat anymore because the miltary had imposed a food
blockade.
After a month of relentless bombings and with the soldiers practically at their doorstep, Camp Abu
Bakr could no longer be defended and MILF chairperson Salamat gave the command to evacuate.
Abdul’s family began their six-day trek through the mountains of Lanao to reach Marawi where they
were taken in by helpful Maranao strangers. Thus began their four-year diaspora, which would take
their family through Marawi, Pagadian and then back to Carmen, North Cotabato. His small siblings’
education was also affected as they moved from one place to another avoiding the military and seeking
livelihood opportunities to support themselves. He willingly stopped attending school since he had to
help in providing for his family’s needs. “According to the Q’uran, one should love one’s parents
because that is the means to finding paradise.”
Abdul is, at 22, recently married and with a child of his own. He said he regrets losing Camp Abu
Bakr, and that he is still willing to take up arms once their leaders give them the order to launch an
offensive. “[The war] will not stop until the people achieve… [the goals of the MILF]. We are really
not content with the present system of governance.” Now that he has a child of his own, he said he
would be happy if his child were to become a mujahideen in the future. “Yes, because the mujahideen
is the best kind of person for us. He does not allow himself to be oppressed, and he fights for his
religion. We are not fighting because we do not like Christians or anyone else. Because in Islam, Allah
categorically declared in the Q’uran that a kafir [non-believer] should never be allowed to govern over
Muslims as this would lead to their destruction. We do not mind them leading others, but we prefer to
govern ourselves.”
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MAGUINDANAO
Barangay Bentingaw is located in the vicinity of the Liguasan Marsh and, according to long-time
residents, is considered part of the MILF’s Rajamudah Camp. The primary means of livelihood in the
community are farming and fishing. The main agricultural products include corn, rice and coconuts
with some families also cultivating vegetables. Aside from tending to carabaos, most families raise
livestock such as goats, ducks and chickens. Their farming methods are backward such as the use of
simple carabao-drawn wooden plows to till the land. The community does not even have a rice mill for
removing the husk from rice grains and instead uses wooden mortars and pestles to prepare the rice for
consumption. Even before the outbreak of hostilities their rice harvests have been minimal. They plant
and harvest once a year and families rely on this harvest for their daily sustenance. Rice is sold in the
market only if they need the money for emergencies. Otherwise, the rice they harvest is good for six
months.
Fishing is also an important source of income. It is usually the men who go out to fish with the wives
selling the catch in the market. The men get up at four in the morning and head for Liguasan Marsh to
check if any fish have been caught in the nets they set up the previous afternoon. The nets can yield one
to two kilos of fish – a three kilo yield being considered a windfall – although on many days there is no
catch at all. The catch is sold in neighboring barrios or in the nearest town center. Whatever is earned is
used for basic items which have to be bought like sugar, coffee, and kerosene. All told, a day’s work
usually means making just enough for the day’s needs.
There is no electricity in the village, or even schools or health centers. The seriously ill have to be
brought either to the hospital in the neighboring town, or the health center where they are not obliged to
pay the consultation fee of the attending physician. However, residents usually cannot afford the
medicines they need. Common illnesses in the community include fever, colds, chicken pox and
measles.
A persistent struggle
Elder Muslim males collectively reconstructed their village’s war history. They said that there has been
armed conflict between the MILF and the military in their community since the arrival of the notorious
Tabak Division of the Army in 1973, during the Marcos dictatorship. This marked the beginning of
what they said is an approximately three-year cycle of evacuating and returning to rebuild their lives:
1973-1978, 1980, 1985, 1995, 1999, 2000 and, most recently, 2003. During these times, they face
extreme hardships as they not only have to contend with the suspicions of the AFP that they are
members of the MILF, but are also driven away from their farmlands and their sources of livelihood by
the continuous bombing and artillery shelling of their communities.
During the parents’ FGD, the participants recalled the names of their martyrs: Wahib Hashim, 14,
whose body was mutilated, lathered with sugar and salt and then placed in the community well;
Sandatu Tahir, 16, whose body was dragged around the community by a tank, hung from a mango tree
to display before the villagers, then burned; Tutin Abas whose hands were cut when he failed to
comply with soldiers’ orders to climb a coconut tree. One participant recalled how his father was
summarily executed by the soldiers, while another said his mother was burned alive inside their house
when the soldiers razed their community to the ground.
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Table 20: Monitored Armed Confrontations Between The Moro Islamic Liberation Front and Government Forces - Maguindanao Province
KILLED
MILF
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
14
44
1
2
2003
28
2004
2005
DATE
Incidents
2001
2002
WOUNDED
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
CIVILIAN
MILF
23
-
9
5
-
-
-
3
97
9
6
26
52
5
4
1
-
2
6
6
54
5+
undetermined #
-
10
2
CAPTURED
MILF
AFP/
PNP/
CAFGU
-
-
13
-
-
-
-
-
several
killed
2
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
CIVILIAN
CIVILIAN
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Fatimah Noh described life in the village: “Since I was born, grew up, got married, had children and
now, grandchildren, life has been a series of wars and evacuations.” (Mula pagkamusmos, nagdalaga
na ako, nagkaasawa at nagkaanak at ngayo’y may apo na, puro gera at bakwet ang buhay ko.) Young
as she is, 12-year-old Nahida has already experienced leaving her home twice. In 1998 her family
escaped to Pawas by boat because they were in danger of being caught in the crossfire between the
military and the MILF. They returned to their barrio in 2000 but the fighting erupted again after a few
months and they had to flee once more – this time to Paglas, Datu Montawal. They were only able to
return to their home in 2002. Nahida’s story is shared by most families in their community.
The Estrada administration’s “all-out war” against the MILF in 2000 displaced 15,590 civilians from a
single municipality.10 Some of these civilians, including the community that was part of the research,
took five years before they were able to go back to their communities.
Running for dear life
The children in the FGD had all experienced the adverse effects of armed conflict. One morning in
June 2000, the community was suddenly awakened by gunfire and explosions. Their quiet community
was swarming with AFP soldiers who, to the residents’ eyes, appeared to be firing their weapons
indiscriminately. Thirteen-year-old Abdul related, “We ran away because soldiers suddenly appeared
firing their guns. I saw how the bombs exploded as they hit the ground.” ([Tumakbo] kami kasi biglang
dumating ang mga sundalo na namamaril. Nakita ko kung papaano nahuhulog ang mga bomba sa lupa
at… sumasabog.) Abdul later learned that the MILF was fighting with soldiers from the 40th Infantry
Battallion. (Naglaban ang mga sundalong Muslim at army ng 40th IB.) As for what sparked the conflict,
Abdul and some other children heard from the radio that the military was after their land. (Aagawin ng
mga military ang lugar). He claimed that the military looted their houses during the siege: “Soldiers
made off with our belongings like a sewing machine and the rafters of our house.” (Kumuha ang mga
sundalo ng ari-arian namin [tulad ng] makinang pantahi at atip ng bahay.) Nine-year-old Halid says,
“Soldiers burned our houses. They took our farm animals like cows and others. They made their dogs
run after us.” (Sinunog ng mga sundalo ang bahay namin. Kinuha din nila ang mga alaga naming
hayop tulad ng baka at iba pa. Ipinahabol kami sa aso.)
Buka, 52, said that the soldiers took whatever they needed from the community even if it meant
damaging the residents’ properties. “They destroyed the barangay captain’s house and ordered us to
carry the concrete slabs to the road in order to patch potholes and let the military vehicles pass
through.” (Sinira nila ang bahay ni kapitan para kunin ang mga semento at pinapahakot sa amin para
itambak sa kalsada upang di sila mahirapan sa paglabas ng kanilang sasakyan). “The military also
destroyed our mosque and our religious school.” (Sinira din ng military ang aming moske at
madrasah.)
The place was in turmoil as families started running for their lives. Norodin said he and his family
braved the strong currents of the river to get to an evacuation center: “We had to swim a long way to
get to the town center.” (Malayo-layo rin ang aming nilangoy bago naming marating ang poblacion.)
Rayhana, who was only four years old at the time of the fighting, said she does not remember much of
what happened except that her mother had to carry her on her back all the way to the evacuation center.
Her father tried to carry some of their belongings, but he eventually left many by the wayside because
the load was too heavy. Fourteen-year-old Laga said her family escaped by boat to the town of
Maguiales. “There were about 20 of us including my mother, father, siblings and aunties. While we
were on the boat, the soldiers fired their guns at us. I got scared – I thought we’d get hit by the bullets.”
(Mga 20 kami kasama ang nanay, tatay, mga kapatid at mga auntie. Habang sumasakay kami ng
bangka, pinapaputukan kami. Natakot ako – akala ko matatamaan kami ng bala.)
As Nazra put it: “Even civilians were under attack.” (Kahit kaming mga sibilyan ay binobomba ng mga
sundalo.) At the evacuation center, she said, they still could hardly sleep because they could still hear
bombs exploding. They stayed there for a year.
While others had a clear idea of where to go to get out of harm’s way, this was not so in 12-year-old
Nahida’s case. She said she and her family hid in a neighbor’s house, confused as to where to go or
what to do, because army helicopters were overhead and soldiers were all over the place. Fifteen-yearold Zaharia related a similar experience while her family fled Barangay Bentingaw on their way to
Maguiales High School: “Planes with soldiers were bombing the area. We didn’t know where to run.
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We made our way along the river, taking cover under the trees. We had a hard time because the trek
was long, we were scared, and we had to keep hiding [from the soldiers].” (Nagbobomba ang eroplano
sakay ang mga sundalo. Sa ilalim ng mga puno kami dumaan tabi ng pulangi. Nahirapan kami sa
paglalakad kasi malayo, nakakatakot, at patago-tago.) Their situation at the evacuation center was not
any easier. Rachma said her brother was almost hit by shrapnel because a bomb exploded near the
schoolroom which they shared with three other families. Her family was often hungry in the evacuation
center: “We couldn’t eat three square meals a day because we didn’t have enough rice, and my father
had no money.” (Halos hindi na kami makakain ng tatlong beses isang araw dahil kulang kami ng
bigas dahil walang pera ang tatay ko.)
Ten-year-old Esmael recalled, “We weren’t able to bring anything with us when we evacuated because
we were too scared by the bomb that exploded right beside our house.” (Wala kaming nadalang gamit
noong lumikas kami kasi masyado kaming natakot sa bomba na sumabog sa tabi ng aming bahay.) Tito
Salbo, 68, said it wasn’t only his clothes that he left behind during the evacuation: “I was so scared, I
even left some of my children behind.” (Sa sobrang takot, kahit mga iba kong anak ay naiwan.) Even
after Esmael’s family and their neighbors had reached the relative safety of an evacuation center,
Esmael describes the general atmosphere as one of terror and confusion: “Soldiers kept firing shots
from afar and we were terrified. People were crying all around me, and I got scared. I thought I’d be
hit.” (Nagpaputok sa itaas ang mga sundalo at natakot ang mga tao. Nag-iiyakan ang mga tao, pati
ako natakot. Akala ko tatamaan ako ng baril.)
Eleven-year-old Nahla couldn’t help but be disheartened when she saw the soldiers burning their home.
“My school report card, my birth certificate and many others went up in flames.” (Nadamay [sa sunog]
ang mga card ko sa school, ang birth certicicate at marami pang iba.) Later on, they were dismayed to
find out that not even the Q’uran was spared from the fire. Nahla’s family lived in a tent at the
evacuation center and they would get wet when it rained, but they didn’t have a change of clothes
because they had left everything behind when they fled. Similarly, 11-year-old Zoraida’s family was
forced to buy clothes, draining their already scarce finances, because in their hurry to leave they left
virtually everything they had behind.
Both Nahla and Zoraida were deprived not only of clothes but also of education. With no source of
livelihood in the evacuation centers, parents simply could not afford to send their children to school.
Up to now, Nahla blames the military for disrupting her studies: “I hate those soldiers because now I
can’t continue with my studies. If only it were possible to get back at them, I would have gotten even
with those soldiers.” (Naiinis ako sa mga sundalo dahil hindi ko na mapagpatuloy ang pag-aaral ko.
Kung pwede nga lang gumanti, ginantihan ko na ang mga sundalong iyon.)
Khodre, 12, attested to the poor living conditions in the evacuation center: “I slept sitting down because
the place was flooded.” (Naranasan ko ang matulog ng nakaupo dahil sa sobrang baha.) Eventually,
people started getting sick. Both children and adults frequently suffered from diarrhea. Many
developed scabies, measles, and chicken pox. Najiba, 35, lost two of her children in the evacuation
center. Her eight-month old baby died of diarrhea, and her newborn infant died soon after it was born.
In the year that Khodre’s family spent in the center, they relied solely on relief goods to survive. “Our
clothes and food like rice, sardines, noodles, and fish paste came from the Red Cross and OXFAM.”
(Ang damit at pagkain namin tulad ng bigas, sardines, noodles, at bagoong ay mula sa supply ng Red
Cross at OXFAM.) The DSWD also brought relief goods to the evacuation centers.
Despite the aid they received for sustenance, the harsh reality of war convinced the evacuees that
nothing and no one was really safe from harm. Some couldn’t help but be wary even of the relief goods
that came their way. Nazra, 14, said one of her siblings died in the evacuation center: “My brother was
poisoned because the food supply we received was contaminated. He died.” (Na-poison ang kapatid
ko… dahil ang ibinigay na supply [ng pagkain] ay may poison. Namatay ang kapatid ko.) Up to now,
Nazra has feelings of bitterness towards the soldiers: “I wish that they would all die. In the next war, if
ever there is one, I hope that those soldiers get wiped out.” (Sana mamatay din silang lahat. Sana sa
susunod na gera kung mayroon pa man, maubos na ang mga sundalong iyon.)
Ketag, 14, and her family endured all sorts of inconvenience to avoid the military. They had overheard
that soldiers were making their way to Barangay Bentingaw on foot and that they would shoot at
anybody they met. “Because of [the news], we hid under the grandstand of the Maguiales Elementary
School. After two days the barangay captain told us to relocate to Paglas. We stayed at the gym.”
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(Dahil dito nagtago nalang kami sa ilalim ng grandstand sa Maguiales Elementary School. Pagkalipas
ng dalawang araw, pinalipat kami ni kapitan sa Paglas. Sa gym kami tumuloy.) That Ketag’s family is
afraid of the military is warranted. Her father, 30-year-old farmer Kamal, shared the story of a relative
who, after evacuating, apparently was tracked down by the military upon allegations that he was an
MILF soldier. “Because this relative of ours had a personal grudge against the Christians [living in the
farm where he sought refuge], they must have made the military believe he was a rebel. He was
abducted and killed.”(Dala na rin ng may personal na grudge siya sa mga Kristiyano [sa farm kung
saan siya nagbakwit] itinuro siya ng mga ito sa mga sundalo na rebelde. Hinuli siya at pinatay.)
Kanafia, 34, gave yet another account of military abuse. She witnessed how two men were captured by
the military – one of them a relative of hers, and the other a former mujahideen but who was at that
time working as a barangay tanod (community marshal). “As suspected rebels, they were tortured and
killed, and their bodies thrown into the river by the bridge in Maguiales. I believe they were tortured
with boiling water because their faces and bodies were scalded.”(Pinaghinalaang rebelde, sinalvage
matapos i-torture at itinapon sa pulangi sa tulay ng Maguiales. Malaki ang paniniwala kong
binuhusan sila ng mainit na tubig dahil lapnos ang mukha at katawan [nila].)
For these terrified families, military harassment seemed to be the rule rather than the exception.
Fifteen-year-old Manna said that while they were fleeing to Alamada to escape the bombings, her
entire family was held at gunpoint by military men. “I didn’t know why they were pointing their guns
at us. I was so afraid that I cried. I thought of running away but I didn’t do it because they might run
after me. We were held at gunpoint by some 20 soldiers for almost an hour… They asked us where we
were going.” (Di ko alam kung bakit kami tinutukan nga baril. Natakot ako at umiyak. Naisip kong
tumakbo pero di ko ginawa dahil baka habulin ako. Halos isang oras kaming tinutukan ng benteng
sundalo… Tinanong kami kung saan kami pupunta.) In Alamada, Monwara still had no peace of mind.
She had heard that soldiers in the area had raped local women. Because of this, she made it a point not
to be seen by soldiers. Monwara’s fear of Army soldiers includes the CAFGU: “I’m scared of the
CAFGU because of what they might do to us.” (Takot ako sa mga CAFGU dahil baka kung anong
gawin nila sa amin.) Zaharia agreed: “Checkpoints were erected so we grew even more afraid because
we might fall prey to the CAFGU’s whims.” (May checkpoint pa na inilagay kaya kami natakot kasi
baka pagtripan kami ng mga CAFGU.) After 10 months in Alamada, Manna and her family transferred
to Maguiales where she worked as a laundrywoman and housemaid for a year to help her family
survive.
Sixteen-year-old Noraida was dismayed that she and her siblings had to stop attending school when the
war broke out. “We sometimes go to school without money or food because we couldn’t make a living
in the evacuation center. My siblings had to stop schooling to help our father make some money.”
(Kung mag-aral kami ay minsan hindi kami makabaon ng pera at kanin dahil wala kaming
hanapbuhay sa bakwitan. Tumigil ang aking mga kapatid para tulungan ang tatay makahanap ng
panggastos.) Her parents did attempt to forage for food in Barangay Bentingaw, but they were always
under the watchful eye of the military, and could only stay in the area from seven in the morning to
four in the afternoon. Sometimes, she said, the soldiers would turn their dogs loose on those who had
come to look for food. As was true of other parents, Noraida’s mother and father would often return to
the evacuation center empty-handed and with nothing to feed their children..
Forty-two-year-old Dante recalled that in 2001, a year after the residents of their barrio evacuated, he
attempted to re-enter the area along with some other men to look for food. They asked the permission
of a high-ranking military officer for this and, having been allowed, they went into their barrio.
However things did not go as the group expected and they were forced into doing unpaid labor for the
military: “When we were finally allowed to enter the area, the soldiers made us carry heavy logs and
cut down coconut trees to be used as material for the fence they were building around the detachment.”
(Noong nandun na kami, inuutusan kami na magbuhat ng mabibigat na kahoy, putulin ang puno ng
niyog para gawing bakod ng kanilang detachment.) Abujihad, 52, had a similar experience: “We were
ordered by the military to collect wooden posts for the enclosure of their detachment. They also made
us clean their yard.” (Inuutusan kami ng mga military na kumuha ng poste para gawing bakod sa
kanilang detachment. Pinapalinis din nila kami sa kanilang bakuran.)
On another occasion they were ostensibly allowed to re-enter their community to tend their crops and
harvest their coconuts, albeit only between seven in the morning and three in the afternoon. The men
harvested the coconuts and processed these into copra to sell in the town center. They said that when
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the soldiers saw that they were finished cooking their copra, they fired their guns to scare them away
and took the copra to sell it themselves.
The communities reported the difficult conditions in evacuation centers. With fighting still going on,
they did not have access to their sources of livelihood especially their land. They ended up relying on
the relief supplies occasionally provided by cause-oriented groups. When fighting subsided between
the armed groups, the community reported that they were still not allowed to go back to their
communities even to just harvest their crops. The military maintained a presence in their communities
and controlled the entry and exit of people into the area. The militarized situation in the aftermath of
the shooting war made it dangerous for them to visit and harvest their crops since fighting could erupt
at anytime. It took months before they were allowed in again to harvest and tend to their crops.
Better days
Abdul, 13, recalled better days before the fighting erupted: “Before the war, we were happy even if our
house was small because there were lots of flowers and trees in our neighborhood. It was peaceful and
calm.” (Noong wala pang gera masaya kahit maliit ang aming bahay dahil maraming bulaklak at mga
puno sa lugar namin. Payapa at tahimik.) Twelve-year-old Nahida says she was much happier before
the war because she could study in peace, and her family never lacked for food.
Rachma, 17, agreed: “We were much happier before the war because we had no problems making a
living and our belongings were nearby.” (Noong wala pang gera kami po ay masayang-masaya dahil
hindi kami nahihirapan sa paghahanap-buhay kasi malapit lang sa amin ang mga ari-arian namin.)
Her family used to own fowl. “We had plenty of ducks and chickens. At times when we needed extra
cash, we would sell one of our birds.” (Marami kaming mga alaga tulad ng pato, manok, itik, at iba pa.
At kung nahirapan kami sa panggastos, minsan [pinagbibili] rin naming ang mga alaga namin.)
Manna, 15, whose family used to live with her grandmother, aunts and cousins under one roof,
remembered the period before the war as a time of plenty. “Those were happy times because there were
lots of us living in one house. All of us children were in school and we could play to our hearts’
content. We had plenty of crops for our subsistence.” (Noong wala pang gera ay masaya dahil marami
kami sa tirahan namin. Nag-aaral pa kami at nakakapaglaro. Marami pa kaming mga tanim para sa
pamumuhay namin.)
Like the other children, what 11-year-old Rayhana missed most while living in the evacuation center
was playing with friends. “It was fun before the war because I had plenty of friends and playmates. We
were free to play games and we would often wander around the neighborhood. When the turmoil
erupted, I never saw my friends because our families sought refuge in different places.” (Noong wala
pang gera kami ay masaya dahil…marami kaming mga kaibigan at kalaro. Malaya kaming
[nakapaglalaro... at] palagi kaming namamasyal sa paligid. Noong nagsimula na ang gulo, hindi na
kami nagkita ng mga kaibigan ko... dahil iba-iba ang napuntahan naming lugar.)
Before the 2000 bombings, the children’s days were structured. From Monday to Friday, they attended
school from seven in the morning to four in the afternoon. On weekends, the girls helped with the
laundry and other household chores, while the boys helped with farming – they planted crops or cut the
grass to prepare the soil for planting. The children also played with their friends, and learnedArabic in
three-hour-long sessions. Arabic lessons are offered from Friday to Sunday in Mahat Pindatun,
Maguiales.
Most of these children dream of becoming lawyers, doctors, and nurses. One or two aspire to become a
pilot and an Ustadz (teacher of Islam). Certainly, each of them hopes to finish their studies. To realize
these aspirations, they are willing to be devoted students and dutiful sons and daughters despite their
poverty.
Homecoming
Even before the residents of Barangay Bentingaw started returning to their community, some
organizations had begun rebuilding the area in the wake of the destructive war. Forty “rehab houses” or
temporary shelters were built by OXFAM, but these were much smaller than the houses that used to
exist in the community. These were also not enough to accommodate all of the 200 or so displaced
219
families. Aside from the “rehabs”, OXFAM also built a deep well and put up communal toilets in the
area to be shared by five to eight households.
The displaced families who returned to Barangay Bentingaw in 2004 said they had little to look
forward to. Their farm plots were in bad shape, and their farm animals were missing. All that remained
of some were burnt remains. The surroundings were inhospitable due to the overgrowth of grass and
the absence of the coconut trees that had once grown profusely in the area. Apparently, the military had
chopped down the trees to construct their camps and, some speculate, to make a profit from the coco
lumber. Ustadz Nasser supposed as much: “They used chainsaws to cut down the coconut and other big
trees for building their houses or detachments. They sold the rest .” (Pinapa-chainsaw nila ang aming
mga niyog at ibang malaking kahoy para gawing bahay nila o detachment. Ang iba naman ay
pinagbibili nila.)
On top of everything, some marines and CAFGU officers were still stationed in the area. Some
children observed, “The bombings left our mosque in ruins” (Nasira ang mosque dahil sa putukan),
and, “There were foxholes in the ground” (May paksol na ang lupa). They said that soldiers failed to
remove the booby traps they had set up in the area: “Sharp bamboo stakes streaked with poison were
firmly planted in the ground (Matutulis na kawayan ang itinanim ng mga sundalo sa lupa, nilagyan ng
lason), and, “The jugs we left behind were planted with bombs.” (Ang naiwan naming mga thermos ay
nilagyan ng bomba.) One parent related that a farmer was injured because his bolo hit a landmine while
he was cutting grass in the field. Because of this, the negative perception they have of the military
persists: “They are hateful beasts.” (Mga hayop sila dahil masama ang ugali.) “They are shameless for
having damaged our community.” (Walang hiya dahil sinira ang komunidad.) Some blame Gloria
Macapagal-Arroyo for the atrocities they suffered. One said, “It was GMA who ordered the soldiers to
wage war.” (Si GMA ang nag-utos sa mga sundalo na mag-gera.) This is what some want to tell her:
“She should stop disrupting our lives; I hope GMA dies; GMA must go.” (Tumigil na sa panggugulo;
[Sana mamatay] na si GMA; Paalisin sa pwesto si GMA.)
Women in the FGD could not but compare their economic situation before and after their displacement.
Before, they said they used to rely on the fish catch of their husbands to provide for the daily expenses
of the household. They estimated that they earned P100 a day and spent approximately P83 for
everyday needs such as condiments, toiletries, coffee, sugar and other household needs. Their farms
were still productive, so their daily rice supply for consumption was assured. After the fighting, the
women lamented the destruction of their farm lots. A woman participant of the FGD said: “When we
went back to our community the fields were overgrown with weeds, the coconut trees were either cut
or burnt, and the houses were burned as well. Life was hard and we had to pick ourselves up again. It
was like starting all over again. Life was hard because all our things and crops were destroyed. Fishing
was our only source of income for our daily expenses and our meals. But the problem is that it’s not
everyday that we catch fish.” (Pagbalik namin sa komunidad, matataas na ang mga damo, putol at
sunog ang mga niyog, sunog din ang mga kabahayan. Mahirap ang buhay kailangan bumangon uli.
Para kaming nagsisimula uli. Mahirap ang buhay dahil nasira ang lahat ng gamit namin pati pananim.
Pangingisda ang pinagkukunan namin para sa pang araw- araw na gastos at pang ulam. Kaya lang
hindi sa lahat ng araw ay may mahuling isda.)
“Like chickens, we had to labor for every bite. The biggest income we get from fishing is P50 to P70.
We live our lives one day at a time. If there is no catch, we borrow from the store and we pay little by
little once we have a catch. For the women to earn, they harvest kang-kong, gather firewood and make
charcoal so that they can sell and have money to buy rice with. The average income is from P20 to P50
a day. (Isang kahig isang tuka ang buhay namin. Ang pinakamalaking kita namin sa pangingisda ay
P50- P70. Nakabatay sa isang araw ang buhay namin. Pag walang huli, nangungutang na lang kami
sa tindahan at binabayaran namin unti unti pag may huling isda. Ang mga kababaihan upang kumita
ay nangunguha ng kang-kong, nangangahoy at nag- uuling para may maitinda at may pambili ng
bigas. Karaniwang kita ay P20- P50 sa isang araw.)
Despite all these changes, the children were delighted to return home. “We were very happy because
we were reunited with our friends and because we can play freely with each other again.” (Masayang
masaya kami dahil nagkikita na kaming magkakaibigan at nakapaglalaro na ng malaya dahil wala
nang gulo.) “We’re very happy because we can go back to school and study well because the war is
over.” (Masayang masaya rin kami dahil nakapag-aral kami ulit ng maayos dahil walang gera.) Some
say they slept well since coming home. “Life is better now because we can make a living once again.”
220
(Mabuti na ngayon ang buhay dahil marami na kaming pinagkukunan ng hanapbuhay.) When asked
what they needed most, the children said they wish they had a school as well as a health center in their
own community.
But it is not easy to forget the terrible experiences they suffered during the armed conflict. One parent
said: “These experiences are rooted deep in our consciousness and in our hearts, and will not fade away
until Mindanao is ours to govern.” (Nakatanim na sa amin, nasa puso namin, din a mawawala
hangga’t di kami ang mamuno sa Mindanao.) They believe that the solution to war is for the
Bangsamoro people to get what they have long fought for. (Dapat ibigay na sa Bangsamoro ang
kagustuhan.)
Amin: Arming to defend himself
Amin is a 16-year-old MILF soldier who is the youngest in a brood of four. An incident that took the
lives of his father and brothers compelled him to take up arms and join the MILF. When the military
started bombing the vicinity of Barangay Bentingaw in 2000, Amin’s family decided to take refuge
near the Liguasan Marsh. Unfortunately the area wasn’t spared from the bombings. Amin remembers
everything clearly: his father and younger brother were hit by shrapnel but they didn’t die instantly.
Amin’s father could not speak because of unbearable pain, but he and his injured son fought to survive
for another three hours or so. There was no doctor at hand because all the health personnel were in the
evacuation centers. His other brother, their eldest, was at that time already a mujahideen who also died
in the fighting. Amin, at just 11 years old, lost three family members in one day; only his mother and
himself survived.
Amin had stopped schooling after the second grade because his parents could not afford his tuition.
Before the latest episode of hostilities broke out, his family made a living by farming and fishing. If
only it were up to Amin, he would still like to continue his studies but circumstances make this
unlikely: “There’s nothing I can do because of the difficulties we’ve experienced especially since the
tumult erupted in this place. I wouldn’t know where to get money for my education.” (Wala akong
magagawa dahil sa kahirapang dinanas naming lalo na dahil sa gulo na dumating sa aming bayan.
Hindi ko alam kung saan ako kukuha ng panggastos [para sa aking pag-aaral].)
When Amin was younger, he was already aware of the existence of the mujahideen – defenders of the
Islamic faith. As a child he had heard tales of the heroism of these holy warriors. Up until the June
2000 bombings, he wasn’t aware of what exactly these warriors were fighting for, but he had a positive
perception of them: “I liked them because they are helpful to the people in our community.” (Malapit
ang kalooban ko sa kanila kasi palagi silang nakakatulong sa tao.) He was directly on the receiving
end of this when, in the wake of the bombings, the mujahideen shared their food with Amin who was
then too young to fend for himself.
Amin said he took up arms to defend himself and his mother, in light of the death of the other members
of his family at the hands of the military: “No one forced me to take up arms. I did it to defend what’s
left of my family, especially because of what happened.” (Walang ibang dahilan kundi ang
ipagtanggol ko ang aking pamilya dahil sa nangyari. Hindi ako napilitan.) It was through the death of
his older brother in combat that Amin grasped the idea of the holy warrior’s heroism. This gave him a
better understanding of the cause of the MILF: “It defends Islam and fights for so many people.”
(Ipinagtatanggol nila… ang relihiyong Islam, at ang maraming tao.)
Amin said he does not remember going through a recruitment process. After meeting the other MILF
soldiers he discovered that some of his relatives and friends were already part of the group. It was
immediately after the tragic incident in Amin’s life that he first thought of taking up arms, but he did so
only when he turned 13 years old. Even then, he says was given only simple tasks in the MILF camp.
Since he was not yet a full-fledged combatant, he often visited his mother to help her with farming: “I
was always with my mother because I pitied her. It’s just the two of us now.” ([Noong] di pa ako lubos
na nakapasok sa MI, kasama ko pa rin si nanay dahil talagang naaawa ako sa kanya. Kaming dalawa
nalang ang natira sa aming pamilya.) Because he was still considered young, Amin said that he merely
followed the orders of his MILF superiors. He was asked to deliver bullets to the frontlines, cook food
for his comrades, fetch water, or gather banana leaves to use as plates. When Amin grew a little older,
becoming adept in handling a gun, he said that he just one day found himself to be truly part of the
group – without the formalities of a recruitment process. With maturity came independence and from
221
that time on, he says, his mother did not have to worry about his needs because he could already take
care of himself: “I devise ways to survive from day to day.” (Ako na mismo ang gumagawa ng paraan
kung paano ako mabubuhay.)
His motivations for joining the MILF also seem to have developed. Initially, he said, all he wanted was
to avenge the death of his father and brothers who were defenseless when they were killed. “It means
that if I do not defend myself, I would face the same fate as my father and siblings.” (So ibig sabihin
kung hindi ako lalaban, pati ako madadamay din sa nangyari sa aking mga magulang, sa aking
pamilya.) Now, he said, his motivations are beyond personal interests: “It’s wrong just to think about
vengeance. As I grew older, I realized that to kill is not the only purpose for waging war. There’s a
bigger reason for fighting this war: the Islamic faith.” (Maling pag-iisip ang maghiganti lang. Habang
lumalaki ako, tumubo sa aking isipan sa hindi lang iyon ang sanhi ng digmaan. May mas malaking
dahilan sa pagsanib dito at iyon ay alang-alang sa aking relihiyon.) Once in a while, Amin still thinks
about going back to school, but he realized that learning is not only achieved in the confines of a
school: “Education is important but school is not the only place where you can learn.” (Mahalaga ang
edukasyon pero hindi lang ito sa eskwela matatagpuan.)
Amin said his mother has tried to discourage him but, for him, the MILF is the most sensible option.
“Even if I decide to do something else, or find a way to rise above it all, I will still be shackled to
poverty.” (Isipin ko mang mag bagong buhay, humanap man ako ng paraan para makaraos… nakatali
pa rin ako sa kahirapan.) A change in lifestyle is a choice he is not free to make as long as he is poor.
“My life is far less significant than what I am fighting for.” (Ang kahalagahan ng ginagawa ay mas
mahalaga pa sa buhay.) “Our faith and the land of Mindanao – these are the two most important things
for us Moros. No one has the right to deprive us of these,” (Ang relihiyon at ang lupa ng Mindanao ay
talagang mahalaga sa Bangsamoro kaya dapat hindi ito ipagkait sa kanila.) Amin explains that selfdetermination means Islamic governance. He declared: “Therein lies true freedom. No one will be
poor. Even Christians will be liberated.” (Talagang may kalayaan doon. Walang mahirap. Pati
Kristiyano lalaya.) Amin recognizes this as the core of his principles as an MILF soldier: “I won’t rest
until our people achieve Islamic governance.” (Hindi ako titigil hangga’t di makamit ng Bangsamoro
ang Islamic governance.)
He concluded: “I need to continue with the struggle to defend my Islamic religion and fight for the
Bangsamoro homeland.” (Kailangan ipagpatuloy ko ang paglaban sa pagtatanggol sa aking relihiyong
Islam at iyong mga kalupaan ng Bangsamoro.) The parents in the FGD were asked if they thought it
was right to defend one’s community with arms after the almost four decades of war. After recounting
the abuses, mutilation, bombings, and poverty they had all endured, all agreed that it truly is within
their right.
Dr. Iqbal: On children and the armed struggle
Dr. Mohagher Iqbal, current MILF Chief of Public Affairs and Chief Peace Negotiator, clarified the
MILF’s position on child combatants: “Children are not supposed to participate in war [because] they
are supposed to be in school.” He said, however, that it is inevitable in some cases for the MILF to take
a child under its custody when both parents have died as a consequence of armed conflict, and no
relative is willing or able to support the child.
“Instead of driving them away to become social deviants, criminals, or drug addicts, they are better off
under the care of the organization. You know what, it’s a choice between two evils… The first evil is
when you allow children to remain in the streets and then they commit crimes and then they destroy
everything. I think this is the worse evil. The lesser evil is [for these children] to join the struggle on
the basis of [the general policies of the MILF]. Maybe for practical reasons, it would be better if they
are with us instead of loitering with nothing to do. It’s a choice between two evils.”
In such cases, he said, the children with the MILF are not recruited as full-time combatants but are
given auxiliary tasks in an MILF camp. These assignments include being a courier or delivering food to
MILF fighters in times of fighting. This is not to say, Dr. Iqbal said, that a child they have taken under
their wing has had no experience in firing guns. It is not unlikely for a few to have already done so in
retaliation against the military, especially when their villages came under brutal attack . “A soldier’s
weapon does not discriminate. For instance, their howitzers and their rockets – anyone can get hit, [so]
222
one fends for oneself. In this situation, there is nothing we could do. [The children] will be the ones to
defend themselves.”
Dr. Iqbal explained that voluntarism is central to the MILF’s recruitment of its members. He cited the
Q’uran as the basis of this principle: “[T]he Q’uran says there is no compulsory religion… your belief
is yours alone. My belief is mine… This means that you cannot force belief into someone… Of course,
we discuss what the MILF stands for, what the MILF’s ideology is, but it is up to the people to join us
or not.” Dr. Iqbal refuted the perception that children are brainwashed or coerced into joining the
organization. He further said that on the basis of Islamic ideology, once children have reached the age
of reason, they are considered to be mature and can therefore decide for themselves. “[T]he age of
reason [is] 14 in the case of the [female], and 15 in the case of the [male].”
While Dr. Iqbal was aware that there are organizations that define 18 as the age of maturity, he asserted
that the MILF believes that such international laws are relative, and not absolute: “The organization
does not subscribe to the idea that there is international law.” He further said, “It doesn’t mean that [an
international law] is binding for Muslims and Christians… [as it is a product of] western
secularization.” For them, the Q’uran is the ultimate law and they would “violate” other laws to obey
the Q’uran.
Dr. Iqbal admitted that “having child soldiers is disadvantageous as well. If you are in battle, they
attack relentlessly. But once they become afraid, they retreat. Therefore, not just any young person can
join the MILF. The organization conducts a background check on the individual in question. At times,
they even require parental consent because it is important that the struggle is acceptable to the MILF
mass base. Usually, new recruits are not restricted to the MILF camp. They are allowed to go home to
their families from time to time, and even to continue their schooling in their respective communities if
it happens that they are students at the time of recruitment.”
Dr. Iqbal said, however, that an MILF camp “is not a military camp in the real sense of the word.” He
mentioned Camp Abu Bakr which he described as “a miniature city” because it had a mosque, a school,
a clinic, a market, and even a playground. There, MILF fighters could practice a way of life grounded
on Islamic ideology – a dimension of jihad. Though jihad is often defined in the West as a holy war,
Dr. Iqbal was quick to point out that “there is no holy war in Islam… Jihad means utmost striving in
the way of Allah… [Thus,] fighting is only one aspect [of jihad].”
Endnotes
1
National Statistical Coordination Board (NSCB), “For the Record: On the 2003 final poverty statistics”, June 22, 2006.
IBON Foundation’s July 2006 national survey registered 67 percent of respondents saying that their income was not
sufficient for their needs and 69 percent considering themselves poor. IBON likewise estimates, using official Family
Income and Expenditure Survey (FIES) 2003 data, that around 80 percent of the population survives on per capita
incomes of P100 (about US$1.92) or less per day.
2
3
National Statistics Office (NSO), 2003 Family Income and Expenditure Survey (FIES) Final Results, Income and
Employment Statistics Division, Household Statistics Department.
Officially reported rates in 2005 are smaller following a change in methodology in April 2005. The figure cited averages
quarterly rates in each year and, moreover, maintains the same methodology throughout the period for consistency.
National Statistics Office (NSO), 2001-2005 Quarterly Labor Force Surveys (LFS), Income and Employment Statistics
Division, Household Statistics Department.
4
5
The total of eighty (80) provinces nationwide counts the entire National Capital Region (NCR) as one province and
includes the two (2) new provinces of Zamboanga Sibugay (Region IX) and Compostela Valley (Region XI) created
under EO 36 and EO 103, respectively.
6
The HDI does not count include Metro Manila or NCR in its ranking scheme, nor the new provinces of Zamboanga
Sibugay and Compostela Valley – hence the total listing of just seventy-seven (77) provinces.
PHDR 2005 citing Rosemarie G. Edillon (2005), “Ideologically Motivated Conflicts in the Philippines: In Search of
Underlying Causes”, Background paper submitted for the PHDR 2005, Human Development Network.
7
8
Culled from reports of the human rights organization Karapatan-Eastern Visayas.
9
http://www.db.idpproject.org/Sites/idpSurvey.nsf/wViewSingleEnv/DD349AE39EC11D02C1256F9A004F2BB2/$file/M
igration_Report_high_compress.pdf accessed May 10, 2006
223
10
DSWD status report dated May 9, 2000.
224

uncounted lives - Geneva Academy of International Humanitarian

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