I always take pride in introducing myself as one of the Indigenous peoples—a pride rooted in our collective identity, marked by vibrant cultural expressions, music, and dance. More than that, there are a thousand reasons to be proud. One is our established custodianship of nature, deeply rooted in our knowledge, systems, and practices, or essentially in our way of life.
Documented evidence globally highlights the importance of Indigenous land rights and their contribution to achieving conservation goals. The United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) recognizes the important role of Indigenous people in conservation and restoration. This finds support in research such as by Stephen Garnett who shows that Indigenous communities manage or use 28 percent of the world’s land, including 40 percent of protected land areas and 37 percent of all remaining natural lands. The ICCA Consortium estimates that Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities Conserved Areas and Territories (ICCAs) cover about 21 percent of the world’s land, with a total area under Indigenous governance estimated at least 32 percent. More so, another study found that 36 percent of the world’s intact forests are within Indigenous lands.
In the Philippines, however, most IPs happen to be victims of exploitation of our natural resources in our ancestral domains, often shrouded in the guise of development. On May 16, 2022, for example, the Sangguniang Panlalawigan of the Provincial Government of South Cotabato lifted a ban on open-pit mining, sparking widespread condemnation on social media as critics warned of dangers to human lives and environmental stability.
According to the Environmental Science for Social Change (2010), allowing this project to proceed means the clearing of 3,935 hectares of old-growth or main rainforests, where as a result a population of about 4,000 indigenous Blaan people will be displaced. Furthermore, it will kill wildlife and remove topsoil in an area with known rich biodiversity, with over 1,000 floral species and 280 reported fauna species, 30 percent of which are peculiar to the Philippines, and over 50 species currently endangered. Apart from these, the excavation will also damage, disturb, dewater, and impair the aquifer in the vicinity.
To offset this depredation, the proposed open-pit mining will bring an expected P6 billion worth of royalties from all the operating companies in the ancestral domain of the ICC in ten (10) years. The National Commission on Indigenous Peoples (NCIP) will facilitate this, and the IPs in the said community will benefit. A sweet promise of scholarships, infrastructure, and “observance of corporate responsibility” is also offered. But, is this compensation worth the irreversible damage?
Certainly not. The project will not just cost the environment but will also author the death and extinction of the cultural practices of the IPs in the community. Our cultural heritage is not worth all the money in this world. It will displace not just the flora and fauna in the area, but also the bones, and bloods drenched to protect the environment, and the history of the IPs who stood up against colonialism and abuse of power by the rich corporations. In fact, the ESSC further stated that the potential damage of the project would not just be felt in South Cotabato as the Tampakan project site straddles four provinces: South Cotabato (Tampakan), Sarangani (Malungon), Sultan Kudarat (Columbio), and Davao del Sur (Kiblawan), with a concession under the Financial or Technical Assistance Agreement (FTAA) covering roughly 23,600 hectares.
It was alleged that IPs have given their consent for the said project. After all, Section 16 of the Philippine Mining Act states that “No ancestral land shall be opened for mining operations without the prior consent of the indigenous cultural community concerned.” Now, this begs the question: where are the Indigenous Peoples Mandatory Representatives (IPMRs)? While the consent of the people who own the ancestral land plays a big role in the approval of the provincial government, should that consent be enough to be given the local legislative nod? I may not be part of the Tampakan ICC, but I am also a Blaan. I am scared for my ‘flaneks’, and even our brethren who do not belong to the tribe.
Our development should not come at the expense of permitting corporations whose primary interest is to earn. Our lands were left by our ancestors as our only inheritance. They guarded our lands so we may protect them today. We are mere possessors of the lands we have, and we have the historically-ordained responsibility to pass them to the next generations. Mining will sponsor the loss of our cultural traditions; supporting it is a betrayal against our forefathers who have endured historical injustices so that we can enjoy our ancestral domain. Their stories may have faded into obscurity, but their narratives are etched in the territories for which they fought.
In the landmark case of Oposa v. Factoran (G.R. No. 101083 July 30, 1993) the Supreme Court enshrined the doctrine of intergenerational responsibility, affirming our duty to preserve a healthy ecology for future generations. Let us never forget that we must speak for the unborn and keep the Earth's features as they were when we were born so that people who come after us might witness the beauty of God's creation in the picture displayed during our time. May we allow the archetype of bravery that we inherited from our forefathers to be rekindled within us and save our limited remaining ancestral lands, which are also our homes. True progress does not require sacrificing our environment or heritage, rather it integrates sustainable development with the preservation of identities. Now is the time to rally our courage and ensure that future generations inherit not just resources but a legacy of respect for the richness of our shared history.
