The world cannot wait

“We can’t fight to save the earth tomorrow if we ignore human rights violations in the here and now.”

Benedictine nun Mary John Mananzan has intimate knowledge of the link between environmental threats and human rights abuses in the Philippines, regarded as the world’s most dangerous country for defenders of Mother Earth.

Sister Mary John admires Swedish youth protester Greta Thunberg’s tough stance toward world leaders who dawdle over curbs on carbon emissions, a key factor in global warming.

But the activist nun reminds international advocates that the biggest battles over the environment, “those with the potential for irreparable damage,” are happening in communities that do not speak the jargon of Davos or of New York or of Geneva or of any other cosmopolitan conference venue.

These include threatened indigenous peoples on the southern Philippine island of Mindanao or the main Luzon island’s highlands, and even just a few hours’ drive from Manila.

Mines, dams, plantations, coal plants, new cities, exclusive resorts for the rich — many threats face communities in the here and now, said Sister Mary John.

These children of the earth speak with poetic rage, of fresh air turned acrid and tiny black confetti falling on children, of cool waters from the gods’ cavern deep in the mountains turning brown or red, or gray with runoff from the mines, of birds falling silent and fish mourning as their newborn are swept away because the mangrove nurseries are gone, of mountains, whole mountains, disappearing before their eyes.

They do not speak of a distant future but of here and now.

There have been 59 indigenous folk killed and thousands displaced since President Rodrigo Duterte took power in 2016. The group Global Witness listed 30 killings last year, making the Philippines the deadliest country in the world for defenders of the land.

Model farms, school threaten status quo

At any opportunity, Sister Mary John shows friends social media photo albums of fresh harvests. Children laugh as they pluck fruit and vegetables from vines, trees or from the ground.

Eggplants, tomatoes, bananas, sweet potatoes and gourd sparkle in the sun in gentle hues of purple and green, orange, and red. Other kids carry containers full of newly caught, plump fish.

The children who weigh and pack the baskets destined for the town market are the owners of this genuine organic harvest. At daybreak around 100 of them water, weed, hoe and fertilize before heading off to breakfast and school.

Most of the produce ends up on the dining tables of the Alternative Learning Center for Agriculture and Livelihood Development Inc., or Alcadev, a 16-hectare alternative agricultural boarding school in Lianga, Surigao del Sur province, in Mindanao. The parents who also take some plots for equity in their children’s education get a share.

Sustainability

For almost a decade now, the school has achieved surplus production. Sammy Dollano, a member of the town council, said the Alcadev community is the town’s top source of agricultural products.

Isolated, individual farmers are often at the mercy of traders who buy cheap and sell high in the cities. In this community, three hours away from the national highway, the farmers network with other groups to ensure swift farm-to-market delivery and the maximization of income.

“It is a marvel of self-sustainability,” said Sister Mary John of the neighborhood that grew around the school her order helped launch in 2004.

Anywhere else, scientists would be urging the government to replicate the practices, not just in agriculture but also in education and community management.

Instead, the Philippine government wants to close down a school that turns out good readers and eloquent speakers, where the pass rate for standardized tests is higher than what some big urban schools register.

Alcadev students give impromptu demonstrations of their all-natural methods of driving away plant pests. They weave, they write poetry and compose songs, they paint. And they protest. A lot. You would, too, if you were hounded for your land and waters. You would, too, after having to flee your home for the nth time.

“The fingers of both hands are not enough for the number of times we have evacuated since my childhood,” said 17-year-old Gleeza Joy Campos Belandres, who gave the valedictory speech during graduation early rites this year.

When soldiers swoop down on the community, they ask, “Why are you against mining?”

The 60,000-hectare Andap Valley in Mindanao harbors the world’s largest and biggest remaining coal block reserve in the world. It is also rich in gold. More than a dozen exploration permits have been filed with the state environmental agency.

But the attacks are not just about the desire to wrest away ancestral lands,

“They do not want the country to see that it is possible to build a society where people live in dignity and equality, where education is truly free and cares for everyone’s needs,” said the young Belandres.

Hounding aid groups

Duterte campaigned for the presidency by cursing miners and lamenting the devastation they wrought. But he soon shed these progressive pretensions. Duterte warned tribes that he would choose investors for their lands to fast-track development. As resistance stiffened, he ordered massive military operations against “communist front groups.”

Government agencies, in a throwback to the Cold War’s Pacific theater, openly target civilians to scare them from supporting dissident groups.

Officials grill supporters of indigenous schools and organizations, demanding detailed reports on where their money goes, when it flows, who it flows to. The government now wants all aid coursed through state agencies.

That’s not going to happen, said a defiant Sister Mary John.

Meanwhile, environment group Kalikasan reported that almost half of all 225 environment-related killings monitored since 2001 took place in the southern region of Mindanao. Tribal people comprised 36 percent of all the victims, placing them “at the nexus of ongoing ethnocide and ecocide in the country.”

As environmental activists try to prod world leaders to go past incremental steps in combating climate change, they should place equal emphasis on communities on the margins.

The Lumad, the tribal people of the southern Philippines, are frontline defenders of Mindanao’s 7.7 million hectares of forests, agricultural land, rivers and reefs. Without them, nothing would stop the destruction of the few remaining pure land and water resources.

Sister Mary John said the Lumad and other indigenous peoples aren’t just fighting for their land. They are fighting for our survival.

We need to show them some love.

Inday Espina-Varona is editor and opinion writer for various publications in Manila.