What Matters Now

The past three weeks have been hectic, and I haven’t been able to post a new blog. Girlie asked me how I would describe the coming Christmas break in one word. I thought for a while and said, “Reflective.”

That got me thinking.

Serendipitously, I read Seth Godin’s blog (one of my favorites since I discovered him more than a year ago), which had a link to a FREE e-book he has put together. Over 70 authors whom he considers to be “big thinkers,” were asked to come up with a key word and a short commentary. The e-book’s title is What Matters Now.

It’s a welcome gift for Christmas – free and meaningful.

Seth is the first to acknowledge that the e-book has too many ideas for one sitting. Some do not apply to those who read them, at the time they read them. That’s my experience.

But the point is to stimulate our thinking.

The e-book is a great idea. I wish we could do something similar for ourselves in the Philippines, and even better, in Filipino. If there is anyone out there who is more knowledgeable in putting together an e-book, let’s work together.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy What Matters Now as much as I did.

I was pleasantly surprised to find Neoteny as one of the entries. That’s a favorite idea, and unusual word, which I learned from Leading for a Lifetime.

Another entry, Nobody, reminded me of a current party song hit “Nobody, Nobody, But You.”

One of my favorites is close to the last – Government 2.0, about government as an open platform rather than a vending machine that we shake in frustration when it fails to deliver what we paid for. Part of the reason is I have been thinking a lot about the 2010 elections and the less than inspiring prospects for us citizens and our country.

Click to download the pdf file.

What Matters Now

Martial Law in Maguindanao: What does it mean?

Francisco “Pancho” Lara Jr. has provided what I consider the most perceptive  commentary on the massacre in Maguindanao, including a new catchy category – “ruthless political entrepreneur.”

When I posted his article on my blog, it got the most hits for a couple of days.

I met him sometime after posting his commentary, and half-teasingly told him: “Now that you have done the analysis, what do you think should be done?” He promised to give it serious thought. We even planned a possible forum with a panel of reactors of Mindanaoans and Muslims.

Well, life is what happens while we are making our plans.

The GMA administration has declared martial law in Maguindanao. 

Predictably, there has been a flurry of reactions. Most public reactions from Manila political leaders and groups have been negative, or at least suspicious of hidden and further intentions of an administration that they do not trust. But a couple of comments from Mindanao, like that of Fr. Jun Mercado who is no fan of GMA, are more nuanced.

Before I could text or call him, Pancho has sent me a message through Facebook. Attached is his follow up commentary on Maguindanao:

Collusion and collision in Muslim Mindanao

Francisco Lara Jr.

Francisco Lara Jr. is a Research Associate at the Crisis States Research Center, Development Studies Institute, London School of Economics 

The eruption of violence and the declaration of martial law in Maguindanao exposes the dynamics of collaboration and conflict between allies who advance their interests in conditions of war. Without this backdrop the recent declaration of martial law will be perceived as baseless, unnecessary, and rife with hidden agendas. Why should government declare martial law in an area which had been under de-facto military rule over the past two weeks?

To follow this reasoning is to insist that martial law in Maguindanao constitutes an overkill given the arsenal of coercive instruments that the central state commands. Yet the imposition actually makes sense when seen through the prism of political economy – or the shifting power relations between Malacanang and Maguindanao, and between Ampatuan and the other warlord clans of Mindanao. In short, martial law possesses political traction even if the legal basis does not exist.

Prior to the massacre the Ampatuan clan was the “stationary bandit” in Maguindanao and the overlord of the ARMM. Witness the line of governors from the ARMM that showed obeisance to Andal Sr. and pledged their unwavering support to his regime. It demonstrates the elite bargain purchased and coerced by the Ampatuan clan among the Moro elite, which transformed the regional authority into a powerful force unmatched by previous administrations.

For the first time in the ARMM’s history, powerful governors marched in step with the overlord, condoning years of violence and corruption in exchange for a share in the licit and illicit revenues to be gained from a region that is part of the Philippine state only in name and location.

Meanwhile, the ruling coalition bound itself to the dominant clan through an arrangement that brought huge revenues and state-of-the-art weaponry to the latter in exchange for the votes and violence that secured the authority of the ruling coalition. Collaboration facilitated electoral fraud and a subsequent cover-up. Collaboration enabled the state to harness the clan’s armed threat to ensure compliance among competitors and to protect the instigators. Collaboration provided the muscle that would stem any intervention or meddling by rebel forces and other armed groups.

But elite bargains are by nature extremely fragile, and fraught with complications. They are also confusing, especially when the state engages in the same illicit activities which it should be suppressing. So when we see guns and ammunition stamped with DND and AFP logos in the possession of ruthless paramilitaries, we are shocked by the collusion between rulers and warlords who partake from the same bounty gained from the underground trade in illegal weapons.

The key is to see the agents of both sides in the political divide, i.e., rulers and warlords, as rival groups vying for the same economic and political resources, alternately colluding and colliding with each other, faced with the same incentive to gain more at the expense of the other.

The arrangement approximates what the conflict scholar David Keen calls a ‘sell game’ (rigged game), where rivals collude based on the shared aim to “make money” and to “stay alive”, or collide when one party undermines the other. The alliance can endure over long periods of time if each side recognizes the possibilities and limits of the game. However, the game eventually ends when one, or both players “over-reach”. This was the case in 2001, when President Joseph Estrada’s “over-reach” led to Chavit Singson’s withdrawal from a bargain that came dangerously close to his own annihilation. The Maguindanao massacre reflects the same “over-reach” that now dooms the partnership with Ampatuan.

In such a scenario, conflict becomes the fruit of collaboration. The side effect of a ruptured alliance is that a rival who knows the real score may turn from concealing towards revealing this deadly arrangement. Worse, the rival may engage in armed confrontation that can threaten the security of the entire ruling coalition.

This is when a massacre becomes useful, and militarization becomes imminent.

The unintended consequence of the Maguindanao massacre was to provide the rationale and recourse to militarization. Militarization in turn puts the squeeze on a rival who is punished and coerced to accept the new set of rules, i.e., a new elite bargain. In this context martial law is simply the next logical step in a politico-military rescue effort aimed at engineering a smooth transition from one clan to another, away from the prying eyes of media, the international community, and the public.

The ultimate beneficiaries are the national political elites including some Moro elites hungry for the same privilege and power which Ampatuan possessed. This new alliance appears dead-set on redressing the power imbalance built and nurtured through years of protection, corruption, and the use of local elites for black ops.

Martial law cripples the Ampatuan clan’s chances of maintaining the same politico-military dominance, and may be hard put maintaining a significant fraction of its influence and firepower. This does not mean that the Ampatuan clan should be written off, only that the conditions for a rebound will not emerge until some sort of palatable justice is served, or a new arrangement is forged with the state, probably under the next administration. Nevertheless, the ruling coalition is now in a position to redistribute power to other contenders and to restore the political momentum in their hands.

DILG Secretary Renato Puno’s comments on the likely transition are illustrative. He argues that vice-governors will replace governors, vice-mayors will replace mayors, so on and so forth. Following the constitutional provision that prohibits military governance over civilian authority, the Ampatuan clan will be coerced into ceding power to the next link in the civilian chain of command. In the interim, these new political authorities may share the same surname and are likely to be clones of the Ampatuans. Eventually, a new warlord clan will emerge to trump the rest.

The situation teaches us to analyze the conflict in Muslim Mindanao by looking at violence and conflict as a system where the economic and political interests of warlords and rulers alternately collude and collide. That knowledge will in turn highlight the fatal flaw that produced the bloodshed on November 23, 2009. In a region where political animosities were often resolved by gerrymandering the political geography to accommodate diverse and powerful claimants or by threatening overwhelming force, the government relied instead on a strategy which it is slowly getting used to. Apprised of the looming violence between the Ampatuan and Mangudadatu clan, the President and her operators tried to fix the problem by convincing the latter to back-off.

As we all know, that strategy failed with tragic consequences.

Education + Energy + Ecology

This week I should have been blogging in Brazil. 

Once in 12 years, there is an international conference on adult education, called  CONFINTEA. Most people cant figure out the acronym since it is based on French words. The last one, CONFINTEA V, was held in Hamburg, Germany in 1997. I was there together with other Filipino adult and popular educators, and was looking forward to attend the 2009 CONFINTEA VI in Belem, Brazil.

But the original May schedule was canceled because the Brazilian government did not want to risk a “swine flu” epidemic. 

By the time the new December dates were announced, I had already committed to emcee the November 30 Bantayog ng mga Bayani ceremonies honoring Cory Aquino and five other heroes/martyrs. I had also accepted the invitation of BENECO (Benguet Electric Cooperative) to be the guest speaker at its AGMA (Annual General Membership Assembly). 

So here I am, blogging in Baguio.

In 1997, in Hamburg, my main focus was on education, particularly adult and popular education. I was president of ELF, the Education for Life Foundation. ELF’s main mission was the formation of grassroots community leaders. I didn’t know then that by mid 1998, I would be leaving ELF for three years, to serve in government in the field of technical education.

Twelve years later, ELF is still the primary institutional base of my work in education, which is still focused on grassroots community leaders, with emphasis on indigenous people especially the Aetas. From among the grassroots leaders, we help develop those with aptitude to become grassroots community educators. We have expanded our education work to advocacy for Education for ALL (EFA) as part of E-Net Philippines.

A telephone call from Fr. Silva on December 2001 introduced me to a world I knew little about – rural electrification, electric cooperatives, and energy. By 2009, I learned enough to write about the story of 40 years of rural electrification in the Philippines - Electric Dreams. In addition, I have been asked to serve as national president of ECAP, the Electric Consumers Advocacy of the Philippines.

Another telephone call, from Odette Alcantara, introduced me to still another world. I don’t recall the exact year, but still remember our conversation. She asked me to serve as secretary-general of the Earth Day Network. I demurred: “I do not have credentials of someone involved in environmental issues,” I told her.” I am identified with the struggle for social justice.”

The riposte was vintage Odette: “So, see yourself as an activist for environmental justice.”

That led to our campaign for the implementation of R.A. 9003, the law on ecological solid waste management, the campaign to cleaning up and save our rivers, starting with Sagip Pasig, and the campaign to defend and reforest our watersheds.

Although unplanned, the next logical step was my introduction to “biodiversity conservation.” I still don’t know whose idea it was, four years ago, to nominate and elect me to the board of FPE, the Foundation for Philippine Environment, and later, to be the chairperson. But I am thankful for the learning experience, especially since FPE promotes community-based strategies for biodiversity conservation and sustainable development.

Why this trip down memory lane?

Could be the cold Baguio night weather, and my tendency to reminisce as the end of the year approaches. But the immediate trigger is my conversation with Leo of BENECO, about the education of member-consumers, the recent landslides due to the typhoon, and the plans of the electric coop to venture into renewable energy through mini-hydros. Hence education + energy + ecology.

The Copenhagen conference on climate change this December gives additional reasons for bringing education and ecology together at CONFINTEA in Brazil. I hope energy also figures in the conversations.

The Maguindanao Murders: Two Perspectives (Part 2)

Notes on the Maguindanao Massacre

These are comments written by Eric Gutierrez, author of The Ties That Bind: A Guide to Family, Business and Other Interests in the Ninth Congress (Manila: PCIJ, 1994). Eric spent a lot of time in Mindanao conducting research for that book and is one of the most knowledgeable people on political clans in the Philippines.

1. Old vs. New

News reports have framed this massacre as warfare between competing political clans. But it is also important to qualify this as deadly competition coming to a head between old royalty and a new, emerging and successful political clan. The Ampatuans are an old, long-established clan, one of few that claims lineage to Sharif Kabungsuan and are therefore regarded as ‘royalty’ in the greater Cotabato region. According to popular myth, Islam was established in the Rio Grande by Sharif Kabungsuan, whose father is an Arab and mother is the daughter of the Sultan of Johore in Malaysia (the Sultans in Malaysia, in turn, claim lineage to the prophet Mohammad). Kabungsuan married some of his converts and founded the Maguindanao sultanate. A complex system of ranking developed from this legend. The sultans, who claim direct descent, typically enjoy higher esteem and ranking. The other ‘royal’ clans in the valley include the Sinsuats and the Masturas. But there are also other ‘nobles’ — rajahs and datus — who while also claiming some form of descent had proved themselves by consolidating their own political and economic power. The Mangudadatus seem to be part of this group of newly-emergent ‘lower’ nobles. What makes them most successful is that they have started to carve out their own political territory out of the current boundaries of Maguindanao and also in Sultan Kudarat, which is predominantly Christian-dominated. My speculation is that the Ampatuans look down on the Mangudadatus as upstarts or ‘probinsiyanos’ from the hinterlands of Cotabato who are now threatening the consolidation of the Ampatuans’ hold of and attempt to monopolize formal state power in what they consider as their private turf.

In the last elections, the current governor Andal Ampatuan Sr ran unopposed. Andal Junior wants to repeat this feat when he runs for his father’s post next year. So Andal Jr warned the Mangudadatus that they won’t even be able to file certificates of candidacy, because the documents need to be brought to the Comelec offices in Sharif Aguak town, which is Ampatuan country. The Ampatuans can do this “lawfully”, simply by putting up checkpoints manned by policemen loyal to the family, who will then disarm any private group entering the town. Rather than risk entering Sharif Aguak unarmed, what Esmael Mangudadatu did was to send his wife — accompanied by women lawyers, other women relatives, and the media — to file his certificate of candidacy. They underestimated the hatred and capacity for violence of the Ampatuans.

2. Unequalled, perhaps, but not unprecedented

Presidential adviser Jess Dureza has been quoted as saying this massacre of civilians is unequalled in recent history. Again, I suggest some qualifications to this statement. Civilian massacres, unfortunately, are common in Cotabato politics. In its troubled history, there have been cycles of violence in the Cotabato region — massacres perpetrated by settlers, locals, Christian, Muslim, etc. What happened may be unequalled in the sense that at least a dozen media persons were victims.

The beheadings and mutilations are also not unprecedented. In fact, the Cotabato region has seen some of the most gruesome acts of violence. Cotabato is after all, the land of the Ilagas and the Barracudas. Kumander Toothpick, a Tiruray who organised the Ilaga after his family was massacred by Maguindanaos identified with the Sinsuats, honed to perfection the art of terrorizing enemies — he cut off ears (to keep as souvenirs) and ate the livers of the Muslims he killed in combat, in the belief that this would give him supernatural powers. In response, Maguindanao politicians formed their own “Barracudas”. The most famous Ilaga figure today is Norberto Manero. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of those involved in the attack on the Mangudadatus were Barracudas.

I am underscoring these gruesome acts to emphasize how violence is essential in keeping and projecting power in the Cotabato region. Manero became a legend and such a powerful figure who can terrorise his enemies because he did the most gruesome acts — like eating the brain of the murdered Italian priest Tullio Favali. Andal Jr seems to be following that path. Andal Jr and his followers may be charged in court, even convicted and jailed. But like Manero, he will continue to strike terror in the hearts of his family’s opponents even when he is jailed. I bet he will also be able to do spectacular capers like what Manero has done — Manero should have an entry in Ripley’s as the only convicted criminal to have gained an audience with two presidents and even shook hands with one (Arroyo), even when he is supposedly locked up in a maximum security prison.

3. Privatised state

I have always asked if the state and its institutions really exist in its proper form in the Cotabato, Sulu and Basilan areas. Many years ago, I interviewed mayors who happen to keep civil registries (birth, marriage, death) and even land registries in their private households. They reasoned that that the safest way to keep those public records is to keep them in their houses, which are typically small fortresses in the capital towns, where the mayor is more secure. There are mayors in the Cotabato region who don’t even set foot in their municipalities, either because the MILF controls that area, or because political opponents are too powerful that they can attack the town hall any time. I think that normal or fully-functional local governments in many of these areas are a myth. What emerges is a privatised state, a privatised bureaucracy, a privatised local government.

I don’t believe Dureza’s call to impose a state of emergency to disarm the various groups will work, for the simple reason that — who will do the disarming? The police can’t do it, because the loyalties of the its members are suspect. The military may be given the job, but they are already stretched out by the war vs the MILF, and besides, they need to keep local strongmen like Andal Jr and Mangudadatu as their allies. A regional force perhaps? I remember a military checkpoint outside Cotabato City, where soldiers stopped a politician’s convoy from entering the city. The soldiers were outnumbered and outgunned, and simply could not enforce that thing called rule of law. The bottom line is, there is no simple, short-term solution to this problem.

 

 

The Maguindanao Murders: Two Perspectives (Part 1)

A management guru asserts that “One of the scarcest resource is attention.” Especially global attention through global media.

Two months ago, the Philippines got our brief share of global attention because of the destructive typhoons, which linked us to the discourse on climate change.

That was followed by two more global-attention-catching events: The decisive victory of Manny Pacquiao over Sotto, and Efren Penaflorida’s winning the CNN Heroes award.

Both gave us a collective “high” and a sense of pride and hope.

Then came this “downer.”

Amid the many voices, most of them angry, that weighed in on this tragic and appalling event, two postings offer useful perspectives. I share them on this blog to those who may not have read them in other sites.

The first is from Pancho Lara, a good friend, who gave us a briefing on this issue, based on his field work and initial analysis a couple of months back. The second is from Eric Gutierrez, another good friend, who did the initial political clan studies when we worked together at the Institute for Popular Democracy.

The Ruthless Political Entrepreneurs of Muslim Mindanao 
Francisco Lara Jr. is Research Associate at the Crisis States Research Center, Development Studies Institute, London School of Economics. 

The Maguindanao massacre predicts the eruption of wider violence and conflict as the nation heads towards the 2010 elections. Yet to dismiss this incident as “election-related” is to miss the fundamental political and economic implications of this evil deed. The massacre is rooted in the shift in politico-economic sources of violence and conflict in Muslim Mindanao. It signifies the emergence of new-type warlords whose powers depend upon their control of a vast illegal and shadow economy and an ever-growing slice of internal revenue allotments (IRA). Both factors induce a violent addiction to political office. 

Mindanao scholars used to underscore the role of “local strong men” who were an essential component of the central state’s efforts to extend its writ over the region. The elite bargain was built upon the state’s willingness to eschew revenue generation and to grant politico-military dominance to a few Moro elites in exchange for the latter providing political thugs and armed militias to secure far-flung territories, fight the communists and separatists, and extend the administrative reach of the state. 

The economic basis of the elite bargain has changed since then. Political office has become more attractive due to the billions of pesos in IRA remittances that electoral victory provides. The “winner-takes-all” nature of local electoral struggles in Muslim Mindanao also means that competition is costlier and bloodier. Meanwhile, political authority may enable control over the formal economy, but the bigger prize is the power to monopolize or to extort money from those engaged in the lucrative business of illegal drugs, gambling, kidnap-for-ransom, gun-running, and smuggling, among others. The piracy of software, CDs and DVDs, and the smuggling of pearls and other gemstones from China and Thailand are seen as micro and small enterprises. These illegal economies and a small formal sector comprise the “real” economy of Muslim Mindanao. 

The failure to appreciate how this underground economy, coupled with entitlements to massive government-to-government fund transfers, shapes prevailing notions of political legitimacy and authority in the region partly explains the inability of the central State to deal with lawlessness and conflict. 

Political legitimacy in Muslim Mindanao has very little to do with protecting people’s rights or providing basic services. People rarely depend on government for welfare provision, and are consequently averse to paying any taxes. People actually expect local leaders to pocket government resources, and are willing to look the other way so long as their clans dominate and they are given a small slice during elections. Legitimacy is all about providing protection to your fellow clan members by trumping the firepower of your competitors, leaving people alone, and forgetting about taxes. 
There were positive signs in the recent past, especially among the Moro women and youth who bore the brunt of conflict and who sought a different future. But achieving their aspirations depends on their ability to rise above clan structures and the dynamics of hierarchy and collective self-defense that bound its members. This dilemma was painfully exposed in the Maguindanao massacre, where Moro women who usually played a strategic role in negotiating an end to rido became its principal victims. 

The sad thing about the recent massacre is that it could have been avoided. Everyone in Central Mindanao knew about the looming violence between the Ampatuan and Mangudadatu clans as early as March 2009, when the latter’s patriarch Pax Mangudadatu confronted Andal Ampatuan in a public gathering and made known his clan’s intention to challenge the latter’s political hold on Maguindanao. This threat was in turn based on the knowledge that Ampatuan was planning to undermine the Mangudadatus by fielding a challenger against them in Sultan Kudarat. 

In short, the “looming” rido which pundits are predicting today actually started more than six months ago. Yet neither Malacanang nor the COMELEC, PNP, and the AFP made any attempt to monitor their activities, disarm their private security, demobilize their loyalists within the police and military, and ring-fence their camps. 

Why ? 

The answer lies in the newfound role of Muslim Mindanao to national political elites. The region is known for a long history of electoral fraud. The difference today lies in its ability to provide the millions of votes that can overturn the results of national electoral contests, a situation brought about by the creation of a sub-national state (ARMM) and reinforced by the sort of democratic political competition in the post-Marcos era that makes local bosses more powerful and national leaders more beholden to them. This was the case in the presidential elections of 2004 and the senatorial race in 2007. It will serve the same purpose in 2010. Whose purpose is served by arresting Ampatuan in an election year ? Certainly not those of the ruling coalition. 

This partly explains the foot dragging and the lame treatment of principal suspects in the massacre. And to those pressing for limited martial rule in Maguindanao, beware what you wish for. Having a surfeit of troops on the ground can provide a superficial peace at best. At worse, it may facilitate the same type of electoral fraud in 2010, or leverage the firepower of the dominant clan over another. 

In a region where the rebellion-related conflict between the GRP-MILF received all of the national and international community’s attention and aid, NGOs such as International Alert and the Asia Foundation have often decried the ignorance and indifference of the government and donor agencies to community-based inter and intra clan violence. As International Alert asserts, it is time to focus on the confluence between both types and sources of violence and conflict. Indifference will only lead to more death and destruction as the election approaches, when a convergence between rebellion-related, and inter and intra clan conflict occurs as military forces and armed rebels take sides between warring clans and factions. 

Mindanao scholars such as Patricio Abinales, James Putzel, and John Sidel have previously noted how local strong men made Mindanao, and how the region provided an ideal case of the country’s “imperfect democracy” and “political bossism”. More recently, the conflict scholar Stathis Kalyvas called attention to the birth of “ruthless political entrepreneurs” who shape and are shaped by the dynamics between states, clans, and conflict. 

The viciousness of the Maguindanao attack shows how these phenomena resonates here. It demonstrates the weak and narrow reach of the central Philippine state in Muslim Mindanao, and how the continued reliance on local strong men will not end the cycle of violence

Climate Change and CO in the Philippines

Last Thursday, November 19, there was a conference on “Fairness in a Fragile World.,” which I missed.

It was organized by activist-friends who have been in the field of asset reform, particularly agrarian reform, and who wanted to address the challenge of climate change. I took part in the preparatory brainstorm, but missed the conference itself, since I was asked to be with the 77 general managers of electric cooperatives who met in Toledo City for strategic discussions on the future of rural electrification and renewable energy.

To make up for my absence, I sent some notes as a contribution to the discussion on community organizing in the Philippines and how it should adjust to the challenge of climate change adaptation and mitigation. 

It is a topic that I am pursuing in various conversations with those who want to address both social justice and sustainability, and want to make sure that communities are active participants in the post-disaster recovery and reconstruction initiatives.

1. The longest tradition (40 years) of “professional” community organizing approaches in the Philippines is strongly influenced by Alinsky’s theory and practice of conflict-confrontation toward the building up of people power in the form of autonomous community-based federations and alliances.

2. We can also characterize it as strongly rooted in the social justice tradition, and the faith principle of having a “preferential option for the poor.”

3. Since martial law was imposed soon after this CO approach was introduced to the Philippines, its “genetic code” also includes the framework of repression-resistance as the context and perspective of the CO constant goal of building autonomous community-based organizations.

4. Even after democracy was restored by EDSA 1986, the dominance of conservative democracy continued to support the persistence of a resistance framework for most autonomous organizations, despite some openings for participation and critical collaboration (with emphasis on critical).

5. Gradually, especially in the last decade, two complementary approaches have evolved, which modify this basic resistance framework.

5.1  Participatory Local Governance (PLG), still from the starting point of mobilizing and building up people’s organizations, but with greater emphasis on engaging government and taking advantage of openings provided by the local government code for representation in formal structures of governance e.g. BDCs and other special bodies.

5.2  Government-initiated national programs that are implemented through LGUs, which incorporate community consultation and participation (in varying degrees), e.g. CIDSS.

There is a wide spectrum of these participatory and partnership approaches, depending not only on the readiness of the LGU and the NGO-PO, but also on the nature of issues and programs – and possibilities for reform based on the balance of forces and the intransigence of vested interests.

6. In addition to the question of resistance-participation-reform, a second major question is handling partisanship (in favor of the marginalized majority) and “inclusiveness” particularly on issues that affect all residents of a community, and which affect many communities.

The principle of “common but differentiated” responsibility is a framework that takes account of inclusiveness and the tension due to inequalities. Its poetic counterpart is the theme of “fairness in a fragile world.”

7. These broad strokes describe the evolution of CO in the Philippines which has not been a smooth and non-conflictual process, nor pursued with full consciousness and deliberation. The aphorism of Kierkegarrd applies: “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”

8. The challenge of climate change adaptation and climate mitigation adds much greater elements of complexity and interconnectedness, including the dynamics between local-national-global.

9. There is need, and opportunity, for upgrading and retooling our community organizing approaches. One important element is to train not just a new generation of community organizers, but also simultaneously, a new generation of community leaders.

10.The framework of community (at various scales) for our new community organizing initiatives must be integrated into the context of ecosystems (also at various scales).

The decision by a working group of the PDRF to focus on the reforestation and rehabilitation of the Marikina Watershed offers a challenge and opportunity to explore new community organizing approaches. I think it could become a training laboratory for CO, playing a comparable role to that of the Tondo foreshoreland in the early 1970s.

Join the Global Launch of the Charter for Compassion

November 12, 2009 is the scheduled global launch of the Charter for Compassion. This afternoon, at the office of the Education for Life Foundation (ELF), a group of Filipinos will “join the conversation” about it.

What is this charter anyway?  What does it seek to accomplish?

The original idea came from a former Catholic nun, Karen Armstrong, who made it her TED wish, and invested her 100,000 dollar TED prize to start the process.

After leaving the convent, she thought she would have nothing to do at all about religion, having had enough of it. But an assignment from the BBC brought her face to face with various expressions of religion, including virulent fundamentalist varieties, but also a common thread in every religious tradition, popularly known as the Golden Rule – “Do not do unto others what you do not want done to you.”

She is a much published scholar on religion, and she has traced the Golden Rule back to Confucius. I like her anecdote about a well known rabbi, contemporary of Jesus. A pagan promised to convert to Judaism if the rabbi could explain the whole of Jewish religion while standing on only one leg. The rabbi stood on one leg and said, “Do not do unto others what you do not want done to you. That is the essence of our religion. All the rest is commentary.”

Unfortunately, most organized religions tend to emphasize doctrine and beliefs about God, afterlife, and other dogmas that have generated debates and controversies, including violent conflicts.

What the Charter for Compassion seeks to accomplish is to remind every religious tradition of this core message and value, and to promote it, in word and deed. 

The final version of the Charter has been written by a multi-denominational group who have received suggestions from all over the world. Here is the text, which I downloaded just now. You can learn more about the Charter, its history, the process and prospects, at the TED site.

Charter for Compassion

The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity  of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect. 

It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and empathically from inflicting pain. To act or speak violently out of spite, chauvinism, or self-interest,  to impoverish, exploit or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others – even our enemies – is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge  that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum  of human misery in the name of religion.  

We therefore call upon all men and women ~ to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures ~  to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings, even those regarded as enemies. 

We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological and religious boundaries. Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensible to the creation of a just economy and  a peaceful global community. 

Any charter, like any vision-mission document is not self-implementing. But having a charter is a good start to talk and think together about the various ways we can live it out. Hence the tagline: “Join the conversation.”

For us in the Philippines, one initial challenge is translating this into our national language. Our informal brainstorm had us floundering for a while. “Charter” has been too much associated in recent months with “charter change” and suspect political motives.

Then someone remembered “Kartilya” which evokes Emilio Jacinto’s Kartilya ng Katipunan. That perked us up. What about compassion? The closest concept seems to be “Pagmamalasakit.”

Rebuilding our communities. Rebuilding our nation.

Jess Santiago’s song, Pitong Libong Pulo, kept playing in my mind today.

I especially like the refrain, which is an anthem of hope: At mula sa guho tayo ay babangon / Pag-asa’y bulaklak na muling sisibol / Sa kinalugmukan ating ititindig / Ang bansa ng ating mga panaginip.

Early this morning, I silently hummed the song as I commented on the concept note drafted by Pancho Lara for a conference on November 19, on “Asset Reform, Environmental Change, and Conflict.” During our brainstorm a few days back, I suggested as conference subtitle: “Rebuilding our communities. Rebuilding our nation.”

After the devastating floods that hit MetroManila and neighboring provinces, followed by fatal landslides in Northern Luzon, the Philippine discourse on climate change has intensified, feeding into and feeding from the process leading to Copenhagen in December.

Climate change is a crucial factor, but not the only factor. There are previous persistent problems, like deforestation, siltation of waterways, market-driven urban development that has not included disaster risk reduction and ecological considerations. The conference we are preparing focuses on the link between environment, asset reform (and social justice), and asks ourselves how we can retool our approaches in community organizing and development advocacy.

Before noon, I went to the Oxfam office to attend the meeting of “RCube” an ad hoc group that seeks to influence the direction of the government-led reconstruction efforts. We hope that the realizations forced upon those in power will make them consider other ways to reconstruct our settlements, and make them open to ideas and good practices presented by communities in partnership with LGUs, urban planners, community organizers, and ecological advocates.

During our recent FPE board meeting, when we got updates about government moves to address climate change, someone asked: “Why only now? Climate change has been talked about for a decade?” The answer was straightforward. “Because MetroManila and the middle class (even some of the elite) have been hit, dramatically, by its consequences.”

The November 19 conference is being organized mainly by those of us who come from the social justice tradition. We want to be interrogated by the discourse on climate change and environmental change. We also examine two predicted threats to asset reform: “1) Anti-poverty gains from asset redistribution will be threatened by climate change and its severe effects on the environment, and the onset of violence and conflict arising from these changes. 2) The demand for increased public investments in asset reform will be threatened by the new priorities towards disaster awareness, prevention, and response, and climate change mitigation and adaptation of subnational, national, and regional states and the international donor community.”

The emphasis on climate change can have positive or negative outcomes. “On the positive side it reinforces the need for partnerships between State and civil society at various levels to address a brewing crisis that hardly differentiates between age, gender, class, and ethnicity. On the negative side it can be skewed in favor of actions that protect the “included”, rather than the “excluded”.  It may dampen, under-capitalize, or even thwart investments that strengthen the endowments and entitlements of the poor (asset reform), which remains a fundamental building block of anti-poverty efforts and the bulwark of democratic governance.”

The language can be a bit turgid. Those of us in popular education and grassroots leadership formation need to do a lot of work to make the issues more accessible.

The conference asks us to look beyond the imagery of tragedy and hopelessness, and see local communities as rallying points for survival and renewal. It is a call to work together around the task of rebuilding our communities and rebuilding our nation. “The expected outcome is an exploration of new strategies and partnerships between community, State, and a global civil society that is fair to all, and secures people’s lives and livelihoods over the long term, in the midst of the new global challenges confronting citizens and their communities.”

Jess Santiago’s song delivers the message is a more stirring way: 

Pitong libong pulo, tayo’y watak watak / Kanya-kanyang kilos, kanya-kanyang kumpas / Iba’t-ibang daan ating binabagtas / Hindi matagpuan landas sa pagunlad

Pitong libong isla, ating pag-isahin / Sa iisang mithi / Pitong libong pulo, matatag at buo /  Hindi mahahati / Sambayanang bigkis ng isang lunggati / Payapa’t malayang kayumangging lahi

 At mula sa guho tayo ay babangon / Pag-asa’y bulaklak na muling sisibol / Sa kinalugmukan ating ititindig / Ang bansa ng ating mga panaginip

 Ano mang sakuna sa ati’y dumating /  Ano mang mawasak ating bubuuin / Gaano mang bigat ang ating pasanin / magbabayanihan at babalikatin

 At mula sa guho tayo ay babangon /  Pag-asa’y bulaklak na muling sisibol / Sa kinalugmukan ating ititindig / Ang bansa ng ating mga panaginip

Remembering

Today, Girlie and I should have been in Naujan, praying at the tomb of Inay and Tatay. But the recent typhoon had cancelled the ferry boats to Mindoro for a couple of days, and we decided not to chance a crossing today.

Instead, as soon as we woke up, we spent some time in our mini-garden, in a simple ritual of remembrance. She lit some candles and started writing the names of those whom we want to pray for. “Let’s draw up a list of at least 100,” she said. “We can add others as we remember them through the day.”

We started with Inay, who died last February, whom I miss more than usual today. I added the names of Tatay, Tiyo Villing, the only sibling of Inay who has died, following his wife Tiya Vive. We remembered Tiyo Ulo and Tiya Nena, husband and wife of Tiya Dely and Tiyo Delfin. We listed Fr. Tom Cassidy SVD as part of family. On the dela Torre side, all my father’s siblings and their partners are dead. The Gan side have relatively longer lives.

Girlie had a long list of her relatives, starting with her grandparents on both her mother and father’s side. Her mother is an orphan, so the names of uncles and aunts are only from her father’s side  - Tiyo Mario, Tiyo Carding, Tiya Anita, and many more. She has special memories of her cousin Ave. Altogether, her list of relatives and close friends of the family had more than 50 names.

From family and friends, we moved on to comrades and activists with whom we shared not just commitment but mutual friendship and respect. We know at least one third of those whose names are on the Wall of Remembrance of the Bantayog ng mga Bayani Foundation. But there are many more. We  listed over 30 names of activist-friends, especially those whose wake and funeral we have attended.

I recall one November 1 evening in prison at Camp Bagong Diwa in Bicutan. We were around 40 prisoners. We gathered in a room, lit candles, and wrote the names of activists we personally knew, and who had been killed in the struggle. The sheets of paper on the walls had more than 250 names.

Off and on, Girlie and I talk about what we think and believe about those who have died, and about life beyond death. We half-seriously ask each other, and promise, that whoever of us dies ahead, he or she should try to get a message back. 

She has a gift which she cannot fully explain, of sometimes receiving from those who have “crossed over” messages that they want her to pass on to their loved ones. When I ask her how it happens, and how she handles it, she explains that over time, she has developed some “protocols.” 

At mass this evening, as I prayed for the names on our list, I thought that those who have crossed over do continue to live on, in us and among us, as we remember them. But also in other ways, in legacies they have left with us. I think of the wake of Susan Fernandez, and how my mind and heart shuttled between the urn that contained her ashes and her face and voice singing on the video screen.  I think of Tita Odette’s spirit continuing to drive the Earth Day Network.

These are consoling thoughts. But we want more.

I take some comfort from the biblical passage about faith seeing “as in a mirror, darkly.” A commentator explains that a mirror in those times was of polished metal, that didn’t give clear and sharp images.

Triple A of Change and Learning

Yesterday, at the second meeting of our ad hoc group at the Oxfam GB office, we realized that it was exactly a month since the floods of Ondoy.

Lan Mercado of Oxfam GB who had originally convened us – from PIEP, FPE, COM, Philssa, ASOG – to brainstorm on recovery and reconstruction, beyond immediate rescue and relief. Our shared concern was how to insure that “disaster risk reduction” and “ecological restoration” are incorporated into any reconstruction program.

We committed ourselves to present our ideas and engage the government-organized reconstruction commission. Since this is a national government initiative, we wanted to make sure that the front-line role of local governments is given due importance. And of course, we want to make sure that the communities and the people involved will have real and not token participation in the post-Ondoy and Pepeng planning and implementation.

The last thing we want to happen is for the government, both national and local, to see reconstruction as simply rebuilding what have been damaged. Worse, if the main added element is the forcible relocation of people from endangered urban sites to provincial relocation sites that are far from their livelihood opportunities.

Although our immediate focus is on MetroManila, we realize that we need to expand the circle of concern to include Laguna, Rizal, Bulacan and neighboring ecosystems, not so much because they are relocation sites, but because their water and forest systems impact on MetroManila. Besides, parts of their areas and communities have also been hit by the typhoons and floods.

During our updates, I was struck by how little public knowledge there is about the provision in the UDHA law that 20% of any housing project should be for socialized housing. Anna of PIEP shared many interesting ideas and actual architectural and urban planning approaches (but so far used mainly in other countries) for “in-city” resettlement and “planned unit development.” 

She also introduced us to a new word “charette” which architects use to describe a brainstorm cum workshop session that ends with actual drawings and sketches. We had a bit of fun playing around with this latest addition to our development vocabulary.

We share the hope that the massive devastation of the two typhoons and the aftermath of analysis and accountability can be also an opportunity for authorities and communities to be more open to change. 

As we brainstormed further about how to communicate our ideas and pursue effective advocacy, I suggested that we may find it useful to use the “triple A” framework I use for any process of learning and change:

A-1 is to AFFIRM: What of the past and existing realities and approaches should we retain and affirm, because they remain valid and have stood the test of time?

A-2 is to ADD: What new elements and approaches do we introduce (probably based from experiences from other places) to fill glaring gaps and enhance what are already there?

A-3 is to ALTER: What do we drop altogether, subordinate or modify? This is usually the hardest part. But while it seems to be the only one directly associated with change and learning, it  should not be separated from A-1 and A-2.

When I was younger and less experienced, the emotions I associated with change were all positive – excitement and fulfillment. Now I realize that change is also accompanied by a feeling of anxiety, even among those who stand to benefit from it. Hence the value of explaining that alteration is just one of three, and that there is also affirmation and addition.