Building Bridges from Massachusetts to the Philippines
JC, Liyang Western Mass
Liyang Network is a local to global advocacy network that amplifies the calls to action
of Lumad (indigenous) communities in Mindanao, Philippines on the frontlines of environmental protection. We unite people across the globe in defense of Lumad rights to land, livelihood and self-determination, and weave together our diverse experiences, skills and resources to support their struggle.
Liyang Western Mass will be hosting its official launch party and fundraiser on September 19, 2019. Check out the end of this article for information about how to get involved with this event and future organizing efforts, or email us at liyangwesternmass@gmail.com .
My Story
A month into my first semester of college, I committed to flying across the world with four upperclassmen I didn’t know to spend three weeks living in an evacuation center for displaced Lumad (indigenous) students and teachers in the Philippines. Some might call a decision like this reckless, rushed, or shortsighted. Honestly, it was a huge leap in the dark, but looking back, I have no regrets. Since this decision, I have been inspired by both Lumad and Amherst College students whose passion and action challenged me to question my understanding of the US and its role in the world, my place within it, and what my responsibilities are as a student here.
I spent the first month of college similarly to everyone else. I met new people, pursued every activity or group I thought would be fun or look good on my resume, went out too much, and took my schoolwork far too seriously. Like all of my classmates I was trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing here. I was enjoying myself, but after the novelty of college wore off and I increasingly conformed to my routines, I felt a lack of purpose in classes, clubs and sometimes even my relationships. I began to feel constricted by the bubble of isolation and complacency that seemed to blanket the entire campus; I wanted to believe there was something more to this place, to receiving an education, than that.
I first learned about the Lumad struggle for land, livelihood and education at a Marsh Coffee Haus.1 An upperclassman, Mina*, announced that she was raising funds for Lumad students whose schools had been occupied by the Philippine military.
I was curious so I approached her, and she gave me a basic rundown of the situation: “Lumad” is the collective term chosen by the indigenous tribes of Mindanao–the Philippines’ southernmost island—in their process of unification and organization
in defense of their ancestral lands. In the 1990s, Lumad tribes began building schools based on the three principles of culturally-responsive education, sustainable agriculture and holistic health. These schools serve the needs of their communities and educate their children in the face of massive government neglect. Mina explained how this neglect has transformed into repression as more and more Lumad community schools are forced to close due to military occupations in their communities and attacks on students, teachers, and supporters. The power of their community-based, liberatory education, which provides students with the knowledge to defend their tribes’ land and life, has made the schools targets for relentless government attacks.
She told me that if I was interested I could learn more and even go to the Philippines over interterm to see this reality for myself. Despite my Filipino heritage, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able or even willing to visit a country and people that felt so distant and unknown, but I was intrigued by Mina’s strength of conviction. I admired the fire
I sensed inside her and was outraged by the brutal violence she described. I wanted to feel Mina’s sense of purpose through meeting the students whose words she quoted to me, understanding the urgency of their situation, and feeling the power of their resistance.
So, about a month into my first year at Amherst I committed to going to the Philippines with four other Amherst College students, all of whom were doing independent archival research in Manila. With Mina’s help, we arranged to stay at
a Bakwit (evacuation) school in Manila, where Lumad students continued their education despite the closure of their schools by the military in Mindanao, Southern Philippines. We worked with our research advisors to incorporate community based participatory research into our more traditionally academic projects. Although we were wary of the issues surrounding many international volunteer organizations, as well as around doing academic research in marginalized communities, we quickly learned at the Bakwit School that our purpose was not to save anyone or write self-serving theories about their lives. We were there to genuinely learn from Lumad struggles, build lasting bridges of solidarity and amplify their calls for justice.
Liberation Through Education
“When education is not liberatory, the dream of the oppressed is to be the oppressor.” – Paulo Freire
The first thing I noticed when we got to the Bakwit school was how different it felt from any school I’d been in before. Of course, there was a stark material contrast—in the United States I never had to share one notebook with four classmates, attend class in a gym split between six grades all struggling to hear their teachers, or stop class due to news of a military attack on my community. What felt truly unique about these schools, beyond their difficult material realities, was the students’ investment not only in their education but also in each other.
As I participated in daily life — waking up at dawn to cook breakfast, washing my clothes by hand, and participating in classes, I had time to build relationships with Lumad students and teachers. Jhong*, a 22-year- old teacher who fled militarization with his students and continues to teach at the Bakwit school, explained how the Lumad curriculum recognizes that every person contributes something necessary to the community’s well-being, and rewards collective rather than individual growth.
As such, students don’t get rewards for excelling in one particular subject. This
felt very different from my experience in school, where I’ve only ever experienced being valued based off my individual skills and ability. Existing in a “western” (read: colonized) educational system, I’ve always competed with my peers to get ahead, using education as a means toward personal gain. In the Lumad schools, education is not used as a tool to be used for individualistic purposes, but rather as one for collective liberation. The students grow together, gain the skills to support each other, and learn to question and critically understand their society in order to defend their ancestral land and transform society.
The liberatory nature of Lumad schools and their curriculum poses a threat to the Philippine government and the multinational extractive industries that are vying for access to the resource-rich Lumad ancestral domain. Unlike mainstream Filipino schools, which prepare students to leave the country in order to be low-wage workers abroad, Lumad schools encourage students to serve their communities and assert their rights to their land. Armed with an acute understanding of their rights under international law, Lumad students do not allow their communities to fall prey to the shady tactics of multinational corporations, who have historically bribed, manipulated and otherwise forced Lumad leaders to give away their rights to their land. At the same time, they gain the skills to sustain their communities through organic agriculture and holistic health practices.
Environmental Defenders Under Attack
This year, the Philippines was deemed the most dangerous country in the world for environmental defenders. A majority of these activists are Lumad people living under martial law (military rule) in their ancestral land on the island of Mindanao. Martial law was declared two years ago under the Duterte regime and allows the military to act with impunity throughout Mindanao. Throughout our three weeks with them, students recounted stories about their community members who had been killed by the military under martial law and relived their personal experiences of physical and sexual harassment, violence, and insecurity at the hands of the military and paramilitary forces.
We felt the extremes of life for the Lumad under martial law on one of our first nights there. The students hosted a Solidarity Night, a night of cultural performances and solidarity messages from different groups who stand with the Lumad in their struggle, to welcome us. One of the performances was a dramatic retelling, in radio show format, of an attack by soldiers on one of their schools, machine gun sound effects and all. There is nothing so simultaneously chilling, outrageous, and hopeful as watching eight 14-year-olds try to fit under one blanket and perform a piece, giggling and elbowing each other, to recount how their schools were destroyed and their lives almost extinguished mere months ago. Despite the grief, the moment was hopeful because in sharing the story, the students were placing their trust in us to honor that pain and to act in solidarity with them to end the brutal violence that caused it.
#SaveOurSchools: Organizing in Western Mass
For the group of us who visited the Bakwit school, coming back from Manila into our spring semester at Amherst is when the real work began. After creating meaningful connections with Lumad students and teachers–being exposed to their conditions, learning about what they were struggling for–we could not come back to the same purposeless Amherst existence. The Lumad struggle was not distant anymore. We brought it back with us, and joined forces with other local organizers who had been working in support of Lumad schools since at least last year.
From talking with leaders at the schools we learned that the most pressing need, beyond exposing the truth of what’s happening in Mindanao, was financial support to improve the infrastructure at the schools. We began to raise money and awareness through tabling and events to support the Lumad struggle. Over the course of the semester, we raised enough money to fund a water pump for the farm at one of their schools, and a dorm (being built as you read this) at another school where Lumad students had been sleeping on the floor of their classrooms.
Supporting the Lumad students’ cause has shown us the importance of defending those on the frontlines of these struggles, and that all our struggles are connected even if at first glance they seem distant. Mika*, a member of our group who joined in the spring, shares that as an indigenous woman at Amherst College, supporting the Lumad struggle is a way to forge bonds of indigenous solidarity when she can’t physically travel to sites of indigenous resistance like Mauna Kea or Standing Rock. It allows her, and all of us, to join forces with a broad-based resistance to government abuses and the widespread plunder of indigenous land and livelihood.
Liyang Network: Woven Globally, Carried Out Locally
Mika’s commitment to supporting the Lumad sheds light on the often obscured connection we in the US hold with the Lumad. Indigenous peoples across the world, including in the US
and the Philippines, have experienced dehumanization for the purposes of profit through all of history. The US has been responsible for this violence both against indigenous people within its own borders, and against the Lumad; the Philippines was a US colony for half a century (after being a Spanish colony for four centuries). During this time its people suffered the same colonial violence at the hands of our military, that indigenous and black people here had suffered—and have continued to suffer–for centuries. It is unsurprising, then, that this relationship of imperialist violence continues into today.
The Philippines is the largest recipient of US military aid in East and Southeast Asia, totaling almost $200 million in 2018 (not including arms sales) . This “aid” is directly funneled2 into Duterte’s ever-expanding “War on Drugs”, which is in truth no more than an excuse to wage war on the poor, indigenous people, and anyone else who dares resist his increasingly fascistic regime (see also: the similarly violent War on Drugs in Colombia, Brazil, and here in the US). The bombs being dropped on Lumad schools and the weapons being used to kill their elders, teachers and activists are supplied by none other than our very own tax dollars.
With these connections in mind, we have decided to expand our work and launch a chapter of Liyang Network here in Western Massachusetts, where we will continue to educate ourselves on the Lumad struggle, build bridges with Lumad communities, and participate in scholarly and cultural exchanges in the Philippines.
To Stay informed about the Lumad Struggle
Get involved with our organizing! Contact us at liyangwesternmass@gmail.com
Come to our launch party in collaboration with the Asian Students’ Association on Thursday, September19th.
Follow Liyang and Sabokahan on social media:
Instagram: @Liyang_network and @Sabokahan
Facebook: Liyang Network and Sabokahan IPwomen
Collaborate on projects with us as an individual or organization.
*Some names may have been altered for privacy reasons.
Amherst Disorientation 