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Issue Number 25/26, December
2005
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Kapatiran Issue
No. 25/26, December 2005
A WAR OF TERROR
AGAINST THE PEOPLES OF THE PHILIPPINES
A Perspective From the International Solidarity Mission
To The Eastern Visayas
- Tim Howard
It would not be original
to say that the term “terrorism” is a very
unhelpful label, used far too freely, and frequently
misapplied. In New Zealand, I detect, the term
“terrorism” conjures up images of small cadres
of extremists, scarcely controllable, setting off bombs
in crowded urban gathering places, killing and maiming
innocent civilians. On the other hand,
“terrorism” is rarely used to describe the
behaviour of governments sending invading troops into
another country, or governments turning loose their
forces against their own citizens – also innocent
civilians - who they are supposed to protect, to the
benefit of their own elite classes.
Far more people are affected by State terrorism than by
the random bombings that get highlighted in our news.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that it is
merely a question of numbers, at all. Nor am I endorsing
in any way the activities of the likes of al Qaeda. Still
it strikes me that far greater numbers of civilians are
directly affected by State terrorism than by the random
bombings of places like Kuta in Bali or the attacks on
the Twin Towers in New York. One of the dominant
impressions I gained from being in the Philippines
recently was an experience of the huge significance of
State terrorism.
The International Solidarity Mission (ISM) to the
Philippines of August 2005 was designed to direct
international attention to the activities of the
government of President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, and the
country’s crucial role since 2001 as the
“Second Front” of US President Bush’s
“War on Terror.” The Mission, entitled “In
Support of a People Fighting Repression”, focused on
the link between massive human rights violations and the
State forces and the two Presidents ultimately
responsible for them. As one of four NZ delegates on the
Mission, I was in the team that went to the Eastern
Visayas, to the joined islands of Samar and Leyte. A
“hot” area in anyone’s terms.
The Remedy For Repression? “Organise!”
A cultural performance at the Solidarity Evening on the
ISM’s last night before we left the Eastern Visayas
portrayed various ills – poverty, sickness, fear
– being drawn on slips of paper from the pocket of
someone representing the sickly Filipino people. Then,
finally, the solution was drawn out: Organise! I think
many of us in Aotearoa/New Zealand have much to learn
from the ability of Filipino people to organise
themselves to analyse and address and change their
situations. At least I have much to learn.
For a month prior to the Mission I had the privilege of
being on exposure programmes with Moro (Muslim) and
indigenous Sama Dilaut sea nomads on the edges of
Mindanao in the south; with striking miners at the
Lepanto gold mines in the north, in the Cordillera
mountains of Luzon; with sugar workers and their
supporters in the central island of Negros; and with
so-called “squatters” fighting the drastic
effects of water privatisation in Sitio Payong on the
edge of Metro Manila.
I was inspired in hearing from, and seeing in action,
leading peasant organisers (Kilusang Magbubikid ng
Pilipinas, KMP), Moro and indigenous workers (as in Lumah
Ma Dilaut), unionists (Kilusang Mayo Uno, KMU, and
Lepanto Employees Union, LEU), union organisers of sugar
workers (National Federation of Sugar Workers, NFSW),
cultural workers (like Teatro Obrero), solidarity workers
(like CIRMS and CEPRES), and community organisers of the
political party Bayan Muna and Urban Poor Associates. For
some of that month I had been working with the impressive
workers of IBON, the independent research centre, known
for its well-researched analysis of social, political and
economic realities in the Philippines since the 1970s and
80s era of Marcos’ martial law.
And, most particularly, I was impressed with the
commitment and skills of grassroots people’s
organisations, as they struggled to define and take
control of their own realities. The Neighbourhood
Associations of sugar workers and “squatter”
barrios, urban housing groups, traditional indigenous
groups. And to get some sense of how non-Government
organisations could work alongside them legitimately.
Perceptions Of The Eastern Visayas
While engaged in those other activities before the ISM, I
did notice a few brief media reports of human rights
issues in Samar and the Eastern Visayas – for a
change. Waves of mass evacuations of peasants and their
gathering in town halls were mentioned. There was also an
article about a rally in Catbalogan City, Samar, of
“former New People’s Army members and
supporters” at the end of a three day peace seminar,
where they blamed the NPA (of the Communist Party of the
Philippines) for disrupting the peace. Further on in the
article I found the seminar had been organised by
government departments and security was provided by Major
General Jovito Palparan, of whose name and methods we
were later to become acutely aware.
A priest in Manila had advised me against going to Samar
– not the only person to do so – quoting church
networks as saying that the situation this year in Samar
was worse than at the height of the martial law days of
the dictator Ferdinand Marcos. The Catholic Bishop of the
Calbayog City Diocese in Samar, Jose Palma, had appealed
in May 2005 to Palparan to stop what he called the
“gripping fear that has descended on Samar”.
These glimpses beforehand were confirmed by the
experiences the people of Samar and Leyte related to us,
and our own experiences. “Samar is in agony,”
Alex Garcia Lagunzad told us, at the opening forum of our
mission in Catbalogan City, and so it proved. Alex, 27
years old, is the chairperson of Katungod-SB-Karapatan
(Alyansa ha Pagpanalipod han Tawhanon nga Katungod ha
Sinirangan Bisayas/Alliance for the Advancement of
People’s Rights in the Eastern Visayas), the key
regional human rights organisation. Although his father
was in the military, and a number of his relatives still
are, Alex (and the organisation he now leads) had to
operate undercover in 2005, since Major General Palparan
was given the command of the 8th Infantry Division, the
section of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP)
stationed throughout the Eastern Visayas. Palparan
accuses Alex of being associated with the New Peoples
Army; Alex thinks that this is because he has spoken out
on human rights abuses, and against the promotion of
Palparan to Major General.
Samar And Leyte: An Overview
Samar, 800 kilometres southeast of Manila, on the eastern
seaboard of the Visayan islands forming the middle
section of the Philippines archipelago, is the third
largest island in the country. It is 1.34 million
hectares (nearly 21,500 sq kms) in size. The province of
Samar – the western area of the island – had a
population of 533,733 at the time of the 1990 Census (the
whole Eastern Visayas region had an estimated population
of 3.84 million in 2004).
The island in some ways is very rich, with forests,
minerals, marine resources, beautiful natural
attractions. A third of its land area is devoted to
agricultural production. Its population however is very
poor, and the opportunities that the island gives for
further development – as for example in ecotourism
or aquaculture – are limited by lack of
infrastructural facilities like roads, and by the control
of those resources by a few elite families or by
interests from outside the island. 70-80% of the farmers
of Leyte and Samar – according to research by the
Regional Peasant Alliance of the Eastern Visayas –
do not own the land they till. These peasants’
organising for land reform is one of the reasons for the
repression to which they are subjected. The region has
the highest number of people migrating to other parts of
the Philippines and overseas.
Another reason for dissent and repression is mining.
Corporations’ activities relating to the mining of
bauxite (from which aluminium is made), copper, nickel
and gold, carry on with new vigour in 2005 in Samar,
after the Supreme Court declared, in December 2004, that
the Mining Act 1995 was constitutional, and a new wave of
mining claims, consents, and exploration, often without
permits, has begun, with plenty of military support.
President Arroyo’s administration has been making a
strong push in 2005 to open areas for mining to
transnational corporations (TNCs).
The same military commander involved in suppressing
dissent about mining on the island of Mindoro –
Jovito Palparan - had been shifted to this command in
Samar on February 10, 2005. There has been a widespread
clamour by the people of Samar, notably through an event
called the “Save Samar Island Caravan,” to stop
the massive destruction of the forests and the mining,
and establish a national park in the central areas of
Samar. Some of those areas now have mining applications
affecting them, and exploration happening without permit.
The strong anti-mining/pro-Park sentiments evidently
required a systematic response from the State. Hence the
deployment of 8th Infantry Division units securing the
periphery of the Park and the mining activities therein
– deployments that were steadily moving south, down
the island. Mining and forestry, dissent, and repression
by State forces, are all intimately linked. The initially
high levels of militarisation – nine battalions
– were increased to 12 and have since gone further,
with a number of combat support units to supplement them.
As Congressman Teddy Casino pointed out in welcoming us,
it is clear that massive poverty, inequality, and
repression provide core reasons for a well-supported
revolutionary movement in Samar. Contrary to the
provisions of the Philippines Constitution, over 20% of
the national budget – more than is spent on
education, or on social services like health – is
directed to the military. The Army claims that 14% of the
NPA forces can be found in Samar, justifying thereby the
massive militarisation of the island.
Samar is known for the strength of its resistance to
imperial powers since the significant rebellions in
Spanish times (from the 16th to 19th Centuries,
inclusive). “We will always struggle to regain our
rights and civil liberties,” we were told by Alex at
the briefing in Catbalogan City. Although Palparan had
sworn that he would end all “anti-Government”
rallies and organisations within six months: “We are
still alive”.
The defeat of American troops in 1901, during the
American-Filipino War, when guerillas attacked them in
Balangiga in Eastern Samar, has become a byword for
Samarenos’ self-determination. But with resistance
comes repression. 20,000 Filipinos were massacred after
the Balangiga attack. The American commander of the time
ordered the slaughter of all people above the age of ten,
and the burning of all the villages (nationwide, some 1.4
million Filipinos were killed during the lengthy Filipino
– American War, which began in 1898).
The direct ratio between repression and resistance is
still clear in Samar today. At a media briefing on July
31, 2005 (reported in the Eastern Visayas Probe
newspaper), the Infantry Division’s Deputy Chief of
Operations reported Western Samar as the centre of the
insurgency, and a concentration of Army operations in
that area. He also cited an overall increase from 610
“Communist Terrorists” in 2000 to 1144
“CTs” in 2004.
An Interfaith Solidarity Mission in June 2005 reported 32
instances of summary killings in the previous three
months since Palparan had taken on the command of the 8th
Infantry Division. A new trend of dumping bodies beside
the road has typified the era of Palparan’s command;
we saw photos of the bodies of some people as yet
unidentified.
Under the pretext of going for rebels as a justification
for the extensive militarisation of the region, the
military are now targeting people’s organisations
and non-Government organisations (NGOs)*. Ordinary NGOs
that speak out on human rights, or that support peasants,
or actually are a legal political party working close to
the people, like Bayan Muna, are being framed as front
organisations for the New Peoples Army and the Communist
Party – implying that such an association, even if
it was true, was sufficient justification for
“eliminations”. Alex’s predecessor as
Chairperson of Katungod-SB, Reverend Edison Lapuz, was
one of those killed. * People’s organisations are
the grassroots community and sector-based organisations
like local neighbourhood alliances, housing groups, sugar
workers’ groups, etc. They constitute the mass base.
NGOs are the supporting groups, many with a middle class
component, who serve, and are accountable to, the
people’s organisations. Ed.
And ordinary people, without any particular role in
organisations, have been attacked: one family massacred,
with only one son surviving; a farmer beaten and left
tied in the sun until he died, being dragged behind a
military vehicle to a camp, his family still not having
his body handed over yet; and whole communities forced
– by killings, abductions, bombings – to
evacuate their homes and gather in towns and even travel
for safety to hide anonymously in Manila.
Even elected civil officials are not free of
intimidation. The military for the first time were now
starting to remove and replace elected officials on the
Barangay Councils (elected bodies similar to local
government Community Boards in New Zealand; a barangay is
a village), and to place more threats on them. Local
government officials are amongst those executed. In
Samar, military rule has taken over civilian supremacy
– martial law in all but the name. Samar is under
siege.
Arriving In Eastern Visayas With The ISM Team
Our Mission was to focus mainly on Samar Island. The
team, led by Bayan Muna Partylist Congressman Teddy
Casino, arrived on two flights from Manila in the early
Sunday morning at Tacloban Airport in Leyte, and –
greeted with warm smiles and a bold banner of welcome
– linked up with delegates from other regions of the
Philippines and the local host team. Our hosts impressed
me increasingly throughout the week, as I came to hear
something of their own understated stories of courage,
and of why many of them had to operate undercover. And
how many of them had come out of hiding to guide us,
quite publicly and at who knows what risk, on our Mission
to Samar.
The security of the ISM delegation, all of us, was a
dominant theme of our days in Eastern Visayas. While I
describe it now as our experience, I think it gives
something of a perspective of the police State that the
people of the region live under all the time. The main
security for the ISM was provided by skilled and
impressive young people – age in the Philippines, I
had found out, does not equate with lack of experience
and skill. The head of our security team, Nestor, also
had the distinction – if that is the right word
– of being Number Six on Palparan’s hit list; I
was impressed when one day he wore a boldly lettered
T-shirt proclaiming “BAYAN, the New Patriotic
Alliance”.
The vehicles – vans and a bus – always went in
convoy. Whenever one stopped for a puncture or other
problem, the others would pull over and wait. Travelling
members were kept close to the vehicles at such stops.
The convoy had a nominated negotiating team should that
be needed. Accommodation places for the five nights were
limited to two places only, where it was felt security
could be provided (in the event, our half of the group
had to stay elsewhere one night). The sites for our
“in-house” activities – the fora –
were self-contained, entry controlled by our security and
sometimes by armed police. Vehicle movements within towns
were tightly disciplined procedures – and we were
not allowed to cross the road at stops, or without a
security companion.
People, I think, were listening for motorbikes. Not long
beforehand, in June 2005, an Interfaith Fact Finding
Mission had been hassled and followed by uniformed and
plainclothed armed men on motorbikes, who later admitted
they answered directly to Palaparan. Motorbikes have been
and still are a favoured method of drive-by shootings;
Alex, one of our local team leaders, had been the subject
of a failed assassination attempt by two armed men on
April 27, 2005. The security, while focused on us, would
also have been needed for the local members of our team.
I remember the road from Tacloban in Leyte, across the
San Juanita (“Marcos”) Bridge and up the
western coast of Samar to Catbalogan City, as becoming
increasingly potholed and uncomfortable as we went.
There, the planned courtesy call to Major General
Palparan did not eventuate, as he was away in Manila. His
base and the Headquarters for the whole 8th Infantry
Division are at a camp near Catbalogan.
A long Forum that afternoon introduced us to the Eastern
Visayas region, and to Samar; to the socio-economic
realities of the area, and to the human rights violations
that characterised the region, and western Samar in
particular, along the lines mentioned above. The overview
then narrowed down to the intimate and personal, as we
listened for hours to the voices of the witnesses and
victims. The impact was almost physical, I think for all
of us, as we heard these stories of loved ones taken and
saw their photos, alive or dead. Stories of loss,
separation, not knowing, fear. Brave people too, coming
out of hiding in some instances (one waited three hours,
not well, frightened, before stepping up to tell his
story).
Some of us foreign delegates wondered about whether we
were re-traumatising witnesses by the re-telling, and by
the grisly photographs screened behind them. Yet in most
cases it was very clear they wanted to speak to the
Mission. Something changed for us foreign delegates, I
think, as the reality of the words “human rights
violations” hit home. I found myself really
disturbed, by these stories from family members like my
own.
In sharp contrast that night, we were bussed to a dinner
hosted by Congressman Catalino Figueroa at his home, in a
closed compound with armed guards. Major General Palparan
had been publicly critical, even threatening, of this
Congressman who had been a lead figure in launching the
Congressional Hearings on Human Rights Violations in
Samar during 2005, since Palparan had taken up command
there on February 10. We encouraged him to push for the
restarting of those stalled hearings, to which request he
was strongly positive.
On Wednesday night that week, at a dinner at Malacanang
Presidential Palace, he was to play a key role alongside
Congressman Uy in pushing President Arroyo to remove
Palaparan from his Eastern Visayas 8th Infantry Division
command. A political deal, designed to hold back the
numbers of votes needed to secure the President’s
impeachment*, but still avoiding the core issue of
Palparan’s prosecution.
When we returned to the hotel, two men loitering outside
watched us closely, and four dubious characters –
thought to be military intelligence – were waiting
for us inside. Our dormitory-like accommodation took over
the whole of the first floor. Members of our security
team were awake in shifts throughout the night, blocking
the wide stairwell. The local police chief, whom we had
met at dinner the night before, also provided three armed
guards outside the hotel. I woke early, with the sound of
a motorbike revving up the road, rolling across the
tranquil waters beside the hotel.
* While the ISM was underway, the massive popular
campaign that dominated Philippine political life during
2005, to have President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo impeached
on charges of corruption and electoral fraud (during the
2004 Presidential election), was reaching its
“traditional political” climax in the Congress.
She was successful in doing all sorts of unlikely deals
to ensure her political survival and the motions to send
her for an impeachment trial before the Senate were
outvoted. The popular campaign continues in the streets.
A similar attempt to impeach her predecessor as
President, the truly mega-corrupt Joseph Estrada, also
failed. He was removed from office, in 2001, by People
Power 2, and is still undergoing a very leisurely trial.
Ironically, it was his removal that brought
Vice-President Macapagal-Arroyo into power. The more
things change, the more they stay the same, at least when
to comes to Philippine presidents. Ed.
Voices From Within The Siege Of Samar
The summary descriptions of the situation in Samar
referred to above – with statistics and terms like
“human rights violations,”
“repression,” “disappearances,”
“forced evacuations” – really began to
make an impact on me when I began to hear the telling of
stories by people and families who were themselves close
to the people most affected. The human face of other
“bigger” words like “War on Terror.”
Cristina Abalos struck me as a brave woman. Her father,
Patricio Abalos, a local peasant leader, was abducted
from in front of his house in Catbalogan by armed men
– obviously soldiers - on March 28, 2005, accused
incredibly (he is 67 and an asthmatic) of belonging to
the New People’s Army. Three says later the same six
soldiers came to ransack the house without any search
warrant, saying they were looking for a gun and with 2nd
Lieutenant Bascanyas admitting they held Patricio.
Cristina was threatened and given cellphone numbers to
ring when she had the sought weapon. The family deny all
the allegations of him being NPA and having a gun.
Cristina and her mother have taken his case to the
Congress hearings on Samar, and filed writs of habeas
corpus in the Court of Appeal in Cebu seeking the return
of Patricio (Palparan and his named officers ignored the
order to turn up in court, twice). She had confronted
Palparan directly at Congressman Figueroa’s house on
April 7 (where we dined the night we heard her); the
General admitted he had her father in custody, and said,
mixed with threats, “I can help you if you admit
your father is NPA… he will be released and you will
be able to see him”. The family were still receiving
threats from the military right until the day we heard
her. “My father is still missing; I can’t sleep
well because of the threats. I worked as a teacher
before, but not now. I can’t eat and haven’t
been well. Now I am being treated like an enemy because I
speak out. Palparan doesn’t understand
democracy… Innocent people are being abducted and
killed; he is paying others to say that they (the
abductees) are NPAs”.
Enrico Dacunar, speaking with his three year old girl
beside him, told of soldiers coming for him at his house
in Sitio Pina in Catbalogan on June 15. When told by
neighbours that no-one was there (he had been working in
Tacloban, the family were with his in-laws), the soldiers
took two bottles of gasoline and dried leaves and set
fire to the house. Soldiers came back two days later to
“investigate” the arson, and the neighbours
said that it was military that had done it; the soldiers
denied this, but the neighbours had seen a military
vehicle and said that some of the men were in uniform.
“I can’t go back to the barrio because the
military are looking for me. I don’t know what to
do”.
Sitting in front of a screened photo of her 18 year old
niece Genalyn Ladisla, Lourdes Obingayan-Julianes told of
Genalyn and her friend Yelen Acebedo being allowed by the
family to go by bus from their home in Can-avid in
Eastern Samar for a medical check-up in Tacloban City in
Leyte, on July 8, 2005. Expected back on July 12, they
never returned. Frantic searches for them by
Genalyn’s family in the East and in Tacloban did not
surface them. Military men went to Genalyn’s
parents’ house and told them that she was being kept
in custody of an Army battalion’s HQ in Eastern
Samar. Lourdes went to the police in Can-avid to get
assistance and to report the abduction, but the police
wouldn’t even record the incident. They did say
however that Genalyn had been abducted in Tacloban City,
and had been taken to a Battalion HQ, but were unsure
which. “Genalyn’s mother is sick and can’t
work. This has greatly affected us all. We are asking for
assistance from you.”
Pablo Dacutanan Junior, a smiling 19 year old, was not
well, and held back from giving his evidence until late
that afternoon. He told us of being picked up at random
by the military, held in the dark and shackled for two
weeks, harassed and tortured. Most of this happened at a
torture house in the urban area of Catbalogan City (where
this forum was being held). When Pablo accompanied one
section of the ISM team to visit this house the next day,
he spoke of his continuing fear of the military.
Neighbours live in fear of the soldiers too. One said he
was aware of the activities in the house, but refused to
give further information as he was concerned for the
safety of his family.
In front of screened photos of the bloodied body of
Constancio Calubid, we heard from his widow Rosalina, son
Julius, and sister Nieves of his beating and abduction by
soldiers on July 16, in front of his family, who tried in
horror to stop this happening. This was in remote San
Andres, the village we were to visit with the family the
following day. Constancio had been held for two weeks and
tortured before being professionally executed, by the
same left-handed executioner who had killed another man
in the same area.
The credibility of these witnesses, and the telling of
their stories if we hear them carefully, raised serious
questions for us, but also answers about a rotten State,
and about terrorising forces, and what that terror means
for the people on the ground. This war IS terror, State
terror, for the civilians.
Villa Real And Bayanihan
A long rugged trip along one of the worst roads in Samar
(so I was told, and fully believed), took us to the
municipality of Villa Real, and its main town by the same
name. The road goes between productive rice fields, but
the potential wealth of the area could lie in fishing,
aquaculture (tahong or green-lipped mussels are a local
delicacy), and ecotourism. The coastal areas are
stunningly beautiful, and the local government was very
proactive protecting nursery areas for fish in the wide
bays.
The people remain poor, however, and one of the key
reasons over decades is the road. For 60 years there has
been a nominal road to Villa Real along the nine kms from
the main highway, but it is hardly passable. Only one km
has ever been paved, despite the perennial calls for
roading funds by political and other representatives.
This town and the municipality continued to be isolated
and poor.
Finally, the current elected municipal leadership, led by
Mayor Reynato “Boy” Morales and Vice-Mayor
Baban Cabuenas, with the active support of the Bayan Muna
Party and the people of the area, began a cooperative
road-building project that we saw in action. Each day of
the week, one barangay would send more than a hundred
people to do their day’s community service and
concrete the road, with resources funded by the
municipality, by Bayan Muna, by expatriate donors
overseas. On Saturdays the elected officials and Council
staff would take their families and picnic and work on
the road.
This sort of cooperation is called Bayanihan, working
together. I had come across the term before. Sitting with
Ka Willie in the Quezon City office of the progressive
peasant movement Kilusang Magbubikid ng Pilipinas (KMP),
I noticed the donations tin on his desk labeled
“Bayanihan – Workers and Peasants Working
Together.’ In the south, in Mindanao and out in the
Sulu Archipelago, US troops use the term Bayanihan too,
but with a different edge. The US military were keen to
emphasise to the New Zealand Army’s Chief of Staff,
Major General Jerry Mateparae, during his September 2005
visit to southern Mindanao that they were carrying out
“community service”. However there is a broad
aspect of untruth or at least irony about the term being
used there, in an area where there is “total
war” (President Arroyo’s term) and terrorising
of the population; where civilians and their houses and
schools and mosques are being attacked and commandeered,
with the active assistance of the US military; where it
was too dangerous for the ISM team to go to Sulu; and US
troops in full battle gear are “innocently”
carrying out bayanihan by building an airport, shipping
port and roads into the hinterland, infrastructural
developments that will obviously benefit further
militarisation of the area. “Aid” –
military or civil – usually has other agendas
embedded within.
And this is a bayanihan road in Villa Real. Unlike the
previous example, an impressive community activity. But
now also with a twist. The more than 100 workers on the
road each day has now reduced to 20 or so, because of the
heavy militarisation of the area, and because those who
manage to organise such activities are declared to be
communist, requiring neutralising or eliminating.
The story of the initiatives that local government was
taking in the area, notably that of the bayanihan road,
that we heard as we were hosted by the municipality for
lunch, spoke of civic pride and proactive development.
The lack of a road was presented as a real block to any
regional economic development in those areas of
opportunity. The problems of social development were
described, with the health and economic problems being
highlighted, but also the reduced ability to answer these
needs because of the high level of militarisation. The
local doctor had recently refused to carry out clinics in
the hinterlands because of the dangers in so doing. Could
I describe this with a simple equation? State Terror
Stops Human Development.
It was only when we listened further that we realised an
understated aspect of this story, that both the Mayor and
the Vice-Mayor, and other local officials and NGO
leaders, were on a death list of the military. The Mayor
has two armed police with him 24/7. We received a
distinct impression that the police were afraid of the
military in this area, would not confront them in
relation to their atrocities, but would at least
symbolically provide some protection when required. They
accompanied us too for much of the next day.
I have a copy still of the list that had been leaked from
a friend within the military to Mayor Morales. It is
written in the language of an internal military document,
not sanitised for external consumption with, in one
section, elected barangay officials being named, and in
the other various Bayan Muna officials, supporters, and
for some people labels like “CTs
Contact/Collector” (Communist Terrorists),
“Runner/Courier,” “Sympathiser,”
which obviously have ominous implications.
When we asked how he felt about having his life
endangered, Mayor Morales said quietly: “Personally
I am afraid. Definitely my fear is the programme which I
am doing that I cannot activate. Everyone fears for their
own life. What makes me sad is that I can’t go out,
can’t carry out my activities as mayor of this
municipality. We have projects needing mayoral and
officials’ activities, to give moral support to the
people’s activities…”.
When we went out on the water to travel to San Andres,
tidal problems became evident, and it was agreed –
contrary to the first plan – to stay at Villa Real
that night and head across the waters to San Andres in
the early morning. Security then was going to be an
issue, which was heightened by the information that
military had moved in that evening to a school just up
the road. The women stayed in the Vice Mayor’s
house, the men on mats and tables in a closed back room
of the municipal rooms. Our security team kept shifts all
night.
San Andres
On July 16 2005, when I was already in the Philippines,
50 year old Constancio Calubid – a peasant farmer
and member of the local mediation board - was beaten and
abducted from his house in San Andres on Samar Island, in
front of his wife Rosalina, sister Nieves, 15 year old
son Julius, who along with the local civic leader who
also tried to intervene, were also threatened. This was
done by some 40 armed soldiers of the Armed Forces of the
Philippines (AFP), some without uniforms, all without
nametags, who then dragged him away to a waiting boat.
His tortured body was found two weeks later.
As the sun rose on a calm sea, our team went by sea and
on foot to reach San Andres for a re-enactment of
Constancio’s abduction, to hear on site the
testimonies of those most intimately involved, and to
provide an opportunity for new evidence to surface. But
also for the community to come together again, and to
name the fear.
The re-enactment was simple and pragmatic, with Attorney
Poch asking the questions of the key witnesses (Rosalina,
Julius, Nieves, the Barangay Captain) who acted out what
they had said and done on the night of the 16th; others
acted as soldiers. The villagers were themselves; some
had witnessed aspects of their neighbour’s beating
and abduction, and new witnesses were identifying
themselves around the edges of the drama. Others were
intensely interested in seeing the unnameable horror
named and dramatised.
Military have been terrorising this community since
Constancio’s abduction, their combat boots tramping
the village roads most nights between 11pm and 3am. No
police investigation has been carried out. An older woman
told me how they had been living in fear. If Constancio
could be taken at whim, who else could?
The experience of this re-enactment that morning was
incredibly moving. Because of the horror, told simply and
courageously by those most affected, in the place where
it happened. But also because of the growing confidence
of the community that morning, as people started to name
the fear that was amongst them, name out loud
Constancio’s abduction as a crime.
Obet, a national Bayan Muna leader who led our team here,
spoke after the drama, beside Constancio’s house:
“Will silence stop another Constancio? These are
expert killers; those who killed do not respect civil
authority. We need to link arms in solidarity, in pursuit
of these people. They must be stopped, so our children do
not live in fear”. An elderly man shouted out,
“We must help to do this (give evidence) in order to
gain the respect we once had”.
A spontaneous rally arose in front of the Barangay
(civic) Building where we were taking affidavits from
witnesses – a rally that was a public statement that
Constancio’s treatment and the terrorising of the
village should not be taken as normal, an endorsement of
the courage of the people of San Andres, an encouragement
for them and other Samarenos to struggle on for their
rights and for justice.
Solidarity Missions need to investigate facts and record
those facts accurately, including interviewing reliable
witnesses. But most of all they need to stand alongside
the people who are most oppressed, and not try and be
(perceived as) “neutral observers”, even if
such a thing was possible. Solidarity work, alongside the
victims of State terror, is totally legitimate.
Basey – The Evacuations
The first six months of Palparan’s campaigns had not
managed to clear the peasants in the rural hinterland of
Basey municipality, and so became a priority for
Palparan’s more recent operations. In the Philippine
Daily Inquirer of 18 August, Major General Palparan was
quoted as saying that the evacuees in Basey had left
their homes when the military shelled and bombed rebel
hideouts “far from where the people are
living,” and had now “returned home”.
Neither reflected the findings of our investigations on
the ground. He had also indicated he was pleased that the
people had evacuated which allowed his counter-insurgency
campaign against the New People’s Army to continue
freely.
Getting to where we would meet the evacuees required a
lengthy bumpy ride by road, and a 90 minute trek in
single file through rice paddies, over hills, and through
small hamlets where people watched us warily. Our ISM
colleagues in the other team had gone earlier, and
photographed AFP soldiers, fully armed, in civvies –
in a military operations zone!
The venue for our meeting had been changing over the
previous 24 hours, because of the military operations
going on in the area. In Basey we met over 100 evacuees,
children included, residents of eight barangays and
sitios (hamlets), who had walked from their temporary
residences at some risk to gather at a school in
Cancaiyas village. They had come through military
operations to get there; some never arrived, having been
blocked by the military from giving their testimony to
the ISM (including a Councillor, Minda Olaguer) or from
bringing food for the activity. As a result the peasants
had not eaten all day.
At Cancaiyas they (and we) were surrounded by
intimidating military personnel, who would threaten or
harass them when the ISM was trying to get their
statements. These were soldiers from the 46th Infantry
Battalion under the command of Lt. Colonel Manuel Ramos;
Lt. Glino was in charge of one of the units I met with.
The evacuees told us of artillery shelling and bombing
from helicopters so close to their homes that they could
feel the ground shake. They spoke of crops and precious
water buffalos destroyed by the Army, of crops ready for
harvest that now await them in the fields, of houses
burned down, of physical assaults on them, of troops
camped illegally right in the middle of their
communities. While the NPA had made it clear that they
would not attack residential areas, it was the presence
of troops in their schools and barangay halls and beside
their houses that was often the final straw that forced
the evacuations.
One sitio Ogbok, where there were once 40 households
nearby, now has only two households left. All the rest
had fled in fear of the military and are currently
displaced. Some had come to meet us. Some of our ISM
colleagues had been to Ogbok to interview the remaining
people there. They were told that the soldiers had
threatened the residents with aerial bombing if they did
not cooperate with the Army.
You could deduce that Palparan is not only pleased about
the evacuations, but he has deliberately organised it
this way, so that people had no choice but to move away
from their homes and fields. President Arroyo has not
made any comments of sympathy towards these displaced
communities, either here or in other parts of the
Philippines.
As at San Andres, the gathering became a time for
speeches. Representatives of the evacuees’ villages
spoke of their situations. Some of us spoke in solidarity
and encouragement. I was moved to watch Alex speak. He is
well known for his work in this area, but people there
had not seen him for a long time as he was under threat
himself, so he was called out to speak. His emotion
visibly lifted people’s spirits. I spoke of
returning to New Zealand, and approaching our Government
to ask that Gloria Arroyo’s government, responsible
for the situation they were in, be declared
“terrorist” under our legislation and
recognition as a legitimate government be withdrawn,
until Arroyo and her forces stop their terrorising of
their own citizens. This received noisy approval, and I
think requires acting upon. Around 5 p.m. the evacuees
left Cancaiyas before we did: quietly, encouraged I
think, but grimly, with security on their minds as they
moved off in a tight group away from the military units
to relative safety that night.
Leyte Forum
While most of our time had been spent on Samar Island,
where repression had been more widespread and
characterised as an anti-insurgency campaign based
largely on mining operations, the last day also gave us
the opportunity to hear nine witnesses from Leyte Island,
where repression and human rights violations are
associated with monopoly control of land by a few
landlord dynasties. Since Marcos times there has been a
fervent struggle to reform land ownership and land use,
and severe repression as the military sided with the
landlords to clear small farmlots of peasants so the
haciendas (big plantations owned by rich landlords) could
crop sugar cane and coconuts. These peasants’
stories were disturbing. Stories of soldiers assaulting
women and children as well as men; seizing and destroying
properties and animals; arresting or snatching people who
have not been seen, in some cases, for five months since.
Fortunata told of the military harassing her family,
terrifying her child, then on July 3 at 2a.m. coming to
the house again. This time the soldiers were in civvies,
all had on balaclavas (called bonnets in the
Philippines); they took her husband and child outside.
“Don’t harm my child, or I’ll not have
anyone to live for”, Her husband returned to tell
her what she could not at first believe, that the child
was dead.
Brenda, pregnant and mother of five small children, told
in tears of her husband’s execution, in front of
their young son, just after he had been called outside by
six soldiers. “How to carry on living with five
children now? I can’t go back home; I have been told
by the military I would be killed if I go back. I have
no-one to climb for the coconuts now. My child is too
small”.
Esmeralda is an official of a peasant’s
organisation, who helped peasants in trouble. Accused of
being an NPA organiser, she continued to work for their
rights, witnessing as she did many atrocities in that
barrio. As the military were clearing peasants off their
land on May 27, saying they were “illegal
residents,” Esmeralda was taken to her house, the
house ransacked, and with two soldiers poking Armalite
rifles into her side and another holding a hunting knife
above her head, was told to identify her “NPA
comrades”. Two days later she went to the military
to ask the reasons, whereupon she was taken to the
Barangay Hall, forced to sit on a table with guns and
knife again pointed at her. “I am a farmer, and have
the right to organise farmers”. When they threatened
to take her and kill her, she said “Never mind if
you kill me. It is my right to answer your questions as I
choose”.
Amelia Tacud said: “I have to sit down because I am
trembling”. Amelia is from Calbiga in Samar (rather
than Leyte), a town described by Palparan in the
Philippine Daily Inquirer of 18 August as “heavily
infested”. Attorney Felidito Tacud, a lawyer and
Bayan Muna Party activist who often worked for free for
the poor and who, as legal officer for the Alliance of
Small Farmers, spoke out on human rights violations, was
assassinated on March 14 as he went to buy milk for his
child on the way home after a party meeting. Four days
beforehand he had complained to the military about their
harassment of the Bayan Muna office. “When he was
alive, he feared for his life every time he went outside.
Now I fear for my life. I have asked the police to
investigate; I have publicly sought justice for my
husband… Now I receive threats, callers late in the
evening. Three times I have changed my numbers, and now I
have disconnected my landline. Two weeks after the
funeral, two men on a motorcycle asked neighbours where I
was and what my regular movements were. When asked for
their ID, they walked away. I can’t go to work, I
fear being abducted. To the criminals I say: how many
more lawyers will be executed? How many more children
orphaned? How many wives widowed?... Thanks to you guys
for coming; please give us hope”. The atrocities are
not random, nor without purpose. This State terrorises
its own people, but they are not taking it lying down.
Weaving The Stories Together
Between February 10 and August 13, the day the
International Mission began, there were 513 cases of
human rights violations recorded – three for every
day Palparan has been in command of the 8th Infantry
Division. These included 23 cases of summary executions
(25 individuals and one family); 22 cases of enforced
disappearances (31 individuals and three families); seven
cases (eight persons) of attempted murder; 78 cases (92
individuals and five families) of unjustified arrest or
arbitrary detention; 31 cases (32 individuals) of
torture. There is one recorded case of rape, though other
cases of detention and disappearance could be taken to
imply rape.
Some violations directly affect whole communities. 40
cases (affecting 47 communities) of forced evacuation
were recorded; 15 cases each of indiscriminate firing and
of bombing. As the human rights organisations have to act
in hiding now, and rely on churches to help gather these
data, these figures could be regarded as an
understatement.
Over the days in Samar and Leyte, we heard clear credible
evidence from ordinary people about a range of human
rights violations that appeared to us as having the
purpose of terrorising the population. These activities
were targeted at ordinary people, local government
officials, representatives of political parties, church
people, human rights workers, organisers of workers,
members of people’s organisations, ordinary peasant
farmers and fishers. In a particular way this terrorism
was being targeted against women and children.
Palparan
These soldiers were under the direct command of Major
General Jovito S. Palparan Junior – widely known as
the “Butcher of Mindoro” for his systematic
killing of human rights, church, peasant workers in
another region. Since Palparan was given the Eastern
Visayas command on February 10, 2005, there has been a
huge escalation of terrorising activities there,
including the attempted or successful assassinations of
advocates and organisers for justice and peace.
A participant at a meeting in July of chairs of Barangay
(local community) councils gave evidence that Palparan
had threatened there: “For every single soldier that
dies, ten civilians will be killed”. At a public
meeting in Tacloban City, he said the army would be
abducting a peasant activist every month: “Pardon us
but we have to clear and neutralise each of the villages.
We have to do this because if we don’t get the
rotten apples all the rest will rot too”
(“neutralise” appears to be one of his
favourite words).
When asked by a journalist if it was true that he had 33
names on a hit list that he was working on as part of
Palparan’s declared third strategy, Oplan Ligpit
(Operational Plan Eliminate), he had been reported as
replying: “Why ask about only 33, when there are in
fact 36?” Attorney Tacud and Rev Lapuz were on the
Ligpit list of leaders of progressive organisations.
Oplan Kalinaw Visayas is the first strategy, the overall
counter-insurgency operations which form part of the
civil war; Oplan Gold Rust 8 is the second, targeting
legal organisations. “There should be no longer any
political activities, no demonstrations or organising, or
joining NGOs which we already know don’t
exist,” said Palparan on March 5, 2005 at the public
forum called “Express it at the Park”.
Palparan was trained in counter-insurgency methods in the
US. He admitted having previously formed the vigilante
group Alsa Masa (which, ironically, translates as Masses
Uprise. Ed.), implicated in abductions and murders of
justice activists, when he was in Mindoro. He formed the
8th Military Intelligence Battalion – implicated in
executions in Samar – after his arrival in February;
they answer directly to him.
Under pressure at the Congressional Defence Committee
hearing on Samar, at the end of May (reported by the
Inquirer News Service of June 1), Palparan said that
around 50 to 60% of the population in Samar sympathised
with the New People’s Army, and that the NPA had a
“vast intelligence network” that had
infiltrated local government units, mayors, governors,
even certain military elements. In that context, he said
that the deaths of civilians and local officials brought
about by the military’s anti-insurgency campaign in
the island were “small sacrifices”.
Congressman Figueroa later described Palparan’s
claims of a “vast network” and wide support for
the NPA as being the rationale behind his military
operations, which meant that the NPA has widespread
support and that he “must kill or annihilate our
population in order to win his war”. Congressman Uy
said the Department of National Defense should explain if
it approved Palparan’s policy in Samar, and the
President, his Commander-in-Chief, should be asked if she
approved of the human rights violations being done, and
if they believed the only solution to the insurgency
problem are military operations. Palparan claims that he
was part of a “smear campaign” by groups
including Bayan Muna. That claim doesn’t ring true
when placed alongside these consistently aggressive
public statements, does it?
Lines Of Responsibility
The question of course arises as to whether the
responsibility for these abuses can be laid at the
Government and President’s feet. None of this seems
to me to be a case of one rogue general who cannot be
reined in by his political superiors. This is a question
of the State, and the Commander-in-Chief, the President
in particular, accepting his activities as being
consistent with the Administration’s objectives.
Objectives in relation to liberalising mining activities,
crushing unions, ensuring the status quo of elites is
maintained, and strengthening the regime’s
commitment to the globalisation of capital (for example,
mining capital), and in particular their commitment to
the US agenda for a uni-polar world, waging their
“war on terror” for them.
So – yes, I would say, responsibility can well be
sheeted home to the President. What else can you say when
Palparan has twice been promoted as a reward for his
actions, and has had the honour of leading the
Philippines contingent in Iraq (which was hurriedly
withdrawn after a Filipino civilian was kidnapped by
insurgents and threatened with death unless the
Philippine military was withdrawn. It ws and he was
spared. Ed.). Yes, as he enjoys immunity despite the
grave violations with which he has been involved. The
silence of the President and her officials, shouts out
“Immunity!” to the Army and the people. As far
as I know, only one half-hearted, soon-buried
investigation (into the 2003 killings of human rights
workers Eden Marcellana and Eddie Gumanoy, on Mindoro
island) has been made into any of the range of violations
attributable to Palparan.
The Congressional Inquiry on Samar, which did manage to
put Palparan on the spot, faded in the context of the
shenanigans (I’m not sure of the Filipino word for
this!) of the impeachment process, and has yet to be
resurrected. It strikes me that the human rights
violations I touch on here are not arbitrary, although
some may appear that way. Their pattern says they are
systematic and intentional. They are designed to suppress
any dissent, like the peasants’ dissent against new
mining projects.
It is no-surprise that so many appear in Samar and its
neighbouring islands: the Armed Forces of the Philippines
(AFP) has consistently identified the Eastern Visayas as
the priority counter-insurgency campaign of President
Gloria’s Administration. Palparan’s statements
and their coverage in local media serve as policy
statements of his – and the Government’s –
intention to eliminate all types of political opposition
seeking redress for the grievances and social inequity
suffered by the people.
These violations reflect the chain of command, from the
Military Intelligence Battalion and other perpetrators of
crimes, back through Jovito Palparan, through the Armed
Forces Chief (the new Chief, Esperon, as he replaced him
at the President’s order, still defended Palparan as
“one of the best generals in the Philippines
Army”; soon after he was given a high-profile award
as the nation’s top soldier), back to the
Commander-in-Chief, President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.
This President has presided over a significantly higher
level of gross human rights abuses than did Ferdinand
Marcos. And the President has not publicly condemned
those abuses, nor expressed any sympathy for the people
affected. That articulate silence defines the shape of
the counter-insurgency campaign and the declared
“total war” against rebels (and alleged
sympathisers) will take.
Actually it is not unfair to say the chain of command
goes further. The Philippines has been designated by
George W. Bush as the “Second Front of the War on
Terror”, and Gloria Arroyo as the best friend of the
US in this war. Contrary to the Constitution, she has
invited in US troops who are active on the ground. She
has touted for increased military aid, receiving $US63
million in 2004. She has declared “total war”
against rebels, including in areas where peace is being
negotiated, and including using excuses for military
action that simply don’t hold true.
The face of that US-encouraged “War on Terror”
is what we saw on the ground – a War Against the
People of the Philippines themselves, carried out by the
State. There is an ongoing hidden civil war in the
Philippines. But to a large extent it is not combatants
but civilians that are being targeted, in full breach of
human rights and other conventions to which the
Government is signatory, and in breach of the Philippines
Constitution and laws.
A Broader Picture: The Terror Of Apparent
Arbitrariness
There are many stories, and not only in Samar. What we
saw and heard is echoed in the four other areas our
colleagues went to in different parts of the country.
Striking sugar workers massacred by military snipers in
November 2004, or executed afterwards. 27 Muslim
prisoners, kept without charge for years in appalling
conditions in a Manila jail, killed in March 2005 –
some summarily executed - after only four tried to break
out. Some 58 local and regional leaders of Bayan Muna, a
political party that works most impressively in poor
communities, have been assassinated since Gloria has been
in power.
Since Gloria Arroyo took over as President in a People
Power 2 in 2001, there have been 4,207 recorded cases of
human rights violations, affecting 232,796 victims,
including 412 people who have been executed. These are
not arbitrary events. These are part of a system of
repression. The issues are of life and death and survival
and security for the ordinary people and those who work
closest with them.
Leaving Samar
On the morning of August 17th, a high-ranking military
spokesman tried to discredit the International Solidarity
Mission, saying that we were funded by both Joma Sison
(the exiled founder of the Communist Party of the
Philippines) and Osama bin Laden. This was a
“surprise” to those of the group who had funded
their own costs or had been supported by small local
groups like the Philippines Solidarity Network of
Aotearoa (PSNA). But it did give us a personal
perspective on the military’s “red scare”
tactic of attacking NGOs as being fronts for the
Communists.
A journalist we had come across before – she worked
for the military – tried to sabotage our press
conference on our last day in the Eastern Visayas, right
at the end. She claimed she had three peasants with her
who had been abused by the New People’s Army, and
that the ISM was discredited when we were not
investigating such “human rights violations”.
The men concerned later spoke with our security people at
the edge of the compound, admitted they had been dropped
off by military truck, that military personnel continued
to remain outside the venue, and that they had been
forced by Lt. Magsalang to falsely claim they were
victims of NPA atrocities. The farewells with Alex and
his colleagues early on the 18th had an emotional
underpinning, as many went back into hiding, working for
their people the best they could within the siege of
Samar and Leyte.
A Glimpse Of The International People’s
Tribunal: Julius Calubid
At the Forum on Sunday August 14th, young Julius –
slight of build, evidently traumatised – looked
poignantly over his shoulder at the photo of his
father’s body, thrown up on a screen behind him. His
answers to questions were monosyllables, at best. It
became gradually clear to us that he was still
traumatised, still too fearful to go to school, lest he
too be picked up as the soldiers had threatened. His
mother Rosalina and he had been kept in a safe place
since then.
At the re-enactment in San Andres on Tuesday August 16th,
when we saw him at his own house and in this village for
– I think – the first time since his father had
been found, it became clearer to me that he had been
highly courageous on the night of his father’s
abduction. He had tried to break through the lines of
armed soldiers, with weapons pointed at him, only to be
thrown back; he then did the next best thing, ran to get
the Barangay Captain (the civic leader of San Andres) to
get him to try and stop Constancio being taken. His words
were a bit clearer at that re-enactment.
At the Tribunal on Friday August 19th, Julius was
different. He may not have had justice through the
“justice (sic) system”. The police still had
not investigated Constancio’s case. But telling his
father’s story seemed to have changed him. His
shoulders were back and his head upright. He spoke
clearly and fully, in answer to Attorney Poch’s
questions. He described what he wanted for his father:
“Justice!”
And the verdict of the Tribunal, when justice could not
be found in this severely compromised system under the
current regime? Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, together with
George Bush, was found responsible and guilty of the
various charges – as typified by the abduction,
torture and execution of Constancio Calubid. His case
joins the class action suits now being lodged against the
Government.
And Now – In Samar?
Events moved quickly during the week we were in Samar.
Palparan was relieved of his command, as one of the
compromises I would have to call “weird” that
Gloria Arroyo had to make during the impeachment process,
in order to ensure she remains in power. He has been
appointed to Nueva Ecija in Central Luzon. This is a
small victory for the people and the rights organisations
in Samar, and the international spotlight on Gloria
brought by the ISM could have helped. But his being
shifted doesn’t deal with impunity, he hasn’t
been prosecuted (yet!), his work continues in Eastern
Visayas and has sprung up in Central Luzon. Gloria
maintains her silence. More than that, however, Palparan
has been awarded a compensatory prize as a top soldier of
the nation.
Already reports have come through of assassinations of
Anakpawis, Bayan Muna and labour leaders and other
atrocities in the Nueva Ecija/Central Luzon area to which
he has been shifted. 45 Marines under his direct command
have been shifted to Hacienda Luisita, and there are
reports already of harassment of and fear amongst the
sugar workers there (this is the hacienda where striking
sugar workers were massacred by the military, in November
2004. Ed.). His promotion is being debated before
Congress now and has been delayed again, and
people’s rallies – the voices of his victims
and those of other forces of State terrorism – are
being held against him.
The human rights violations in Samar have not stopped.
There are threats on radio by the military, naming human
rights workers who were the local leaders on our Mission,
that they would be killed. Leaks within the military
confirmed this plan; Palparan wanted a last sacrifice
before he leaves the region. Our colleagues like Alex are
in good spirits but have had to go back into hiding. Alex
is being named by the military on the radio as an
“enemy of the State”, and he receives death
threats texted to his mobile phone. In both Basey and
Villa Real, the level of militarisation has escalated
dramatically. A peasant in Basey was knifed two days
after we had left Samar, but was ready to testify against
the soldier who he recognised. Villagers in Cancaiyas,
Basey, were being hauled in for questioning by the
military who still control public facilities there.
The death squads haven’t stopped with
Palparan’s removal; his legacy remains. Attorney
Norman Bocar, lawyer and chairperson of the regional
chapter of Bayan, was shot on September 1 by two men on
the back of a motorcycle as he stepped outside from a
government inter-agency meeting in Borongan, Eastern
Samar.
In a strange twist to the story of the missing Genalyn
and Yelen that we heard on August 14th , on September 27
at 7p.m. Yelen Acebedo – referred to as Ka
(kasama/comrade) Lyka – was presented by the
military on Radio Diwa, as a rebel returnee. The
programme is part of the military’s Civil Relations
Program, and its anchors have direct links to the
military – one is a staff sergeant. Yelen was
speaking in the same terms as those used in the regular
propaganda line of specified military officials like
Brigadier General Ver, saying for example that
“legitimate rallies in Tacloban made by progressive
groups are infiltrated and run by the New People’s
Army”. One of the anchors, Marlon Tano, wrote in the
August 29 – September 4 issue of the Tribune
newspaper that Yelen (‘Lyka’) was among the 180
personalities “neutralised” by Jovito Palparan,
which gave him the warrant to be decorated with the
Military Merit Medal when he was relieved of his command
on August 25. In other words, she was his war trophy
justifying his reward for the counter-insurgency terror
he has waged in the Eastern Visayas. But if she was
arrested on suspicion of being a rebel before August 25,
why had she been hidden from the official Commission on
Human Rights when they looked for her on September 12 in
a camp of the same Brigade (the 801st) where she said on
radio that she is now being held? Genalyn’s
whereabouts are still unknown.
We can only guess what has happened to both of these
young women in the three months they have been searched
for – abductions without legal warrants or
information for their families, abductions that often end
in death. Sexual violence against women by the military
is not often spoke of, but undoubtedly happens. President
Arroyo maintains her silence – in relation to the
situation in Samar, and in the whole of the Philippines.
The military continue their atrocities with impunity,
knowing the meaning of her silence and promotions and
awards: you can carry on the way you are….!
Nationally
The killings continue, since we left the Philippines.
Reverend Raul Domingo – of Bayan, Promotion of
Church People’s Response, human rights worker and
pastor - of Palawan Island, died two weeks after being
shot. Ding Fortuna, the union leader of the regional
Nestle’s workers, was shot after visiting the picket
line in their long struggle. And more. The Philippines
must be (one of) the most dangerous places in the world
for activist priests and pastors, peasant and union
leaders, lawyers and citizens.
The impeachment process (for racketeering and electoral
fraud – plus there was a last minute ill-fated
amendment to try to add human rights violations to the
charge sheet) has bitten the dust. Gloria has chaired the
United Nations’ Security Council meeting of world
leaders, the first woman to do so, with great pride,
ignoring the rallies of Filipino-Americans and their
colleagues on the streets of New York.
Attempting to tighten her control on the broad level of
dissent against her regime, and almost as an echo of
Palparan’s ban on rallies in Samar, Gloria has taken
Marcos’ martial law era BP880* – a decree that
requires permits for holding any public assemblies –
and added her Calibrated Pre-Emptive Response,
effectively banning rallies. The people’s
counter-rallies have been impressive and forthright,
though are being hit hard. The struggle on the streets is
reaching new levels. *BP= Batas Pambansa i.e. National
Law. Ed.
About “Terrorism” Then
If we are to use the word “terrorism”,
let’s recapture it and direct it where it most
rightly should be applied – that is, to where it has
the greatest effect. Certainly not applying the term to
the actions of peoples for national and popular
liberation. Not applying to whoever the imperial power of
the moment wants it applied to, for its own best
interests.
To the random attacks on civilian populations, indeed.
But if it has any meaning, the term must primarily be
applied to where the terrorising has the greatest impact
on the peoples of the world – and of the
Philippines. Applied to the actions of State forces,
directed against the civilian populations of their own or
other countries.
I wrote to the Prime Minister twice last year, asking
whether she considered herself able – as the
Minister responsible – to designate a state as a
“terrorist entity” in terms of NZ’s
anti-terrorist legislation. She would neither reply nor
even acknowledge the letters. But the time has come for
our government to explicitly recognise that states can be
terrorists. And to declare our withdrawal of support for
such states, like the Philippines.
We need to refuse to let our military to be associated in
any way with – and lend any legitimacy to – the
State forces of the Philippines while they are turned
against their own people. To withdraw relations between
our military and theirs – there is no way (with the
culture of impunity, of human rights violations as blunt
as murder that is now happening in daylight in front of
witnesses, of tacit acceptance and more by the Government
of the day) that our military effectively
“role-model” good behaviour as if the rule of
law is in place. There is no evidence that our
well-intentioned “role modelling” in such
circumstances will have positive effects on the AFP
– similar role modelling during the 90s with
Indonesia’s military had no positive effects, and
merely made them more confident so as to carry out the
murder and “slash and burn” retreat from East
Timor in 1999 (something that Tim personally witnessed,
as an international observer of the United
Nations-supervised independence referendum and its
murderously chaotic aftermath. Ed.) and the atrocities
they continue to carry out now in West Papua.
The NZ government needs to join others to condemn the war
on the people of the Philippines, the State terrorism of
Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s Government. And we need to
condemn the excuses couched in terms of
“terrorists” and George Bush’s “the
war on terror”. In most cases the real
“terrorists” are agents designated by states to
wage war on the people. The people of the Philippines and
elsewhere deserve more – at least they deserve
truth.
And our New Zealand government must be ready to withdraw
recognition to the forces of State terrorism, and their
political and economic masters. Starting with the
Administration of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo in the
Philippines. Naming her Administration as a
“terrorist entity” in terms of our own ghastly
Terrorism Suppression Acts, if there is to be any
pretence of legitimacy for that legislation. Withdrawing
from any cooperation with the US’ so-called
‘War on Terror,’ in this their “second
front” as elsewhere. And naming State terrorism as
the major scourge.
Tim Howard, of Whangarei, is a PSNA member and
regular writer for Kapatiran. He is a pakeha social and
Tiriti justice worker. He spent a month on an exposure
tour in Manila, the Cordillera, Negros and Mindanao prior
to the ISM. This was his first visit to the Philippines.
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