Quantcast
Channel: MovePH
Viewing all 3259 articles
Browse latest View live

[OPINION] Hashtags, trending topics, and the death of Michelle Silvertino

$
0
0

 

Every day, I check the trending topics on that blue bird app. I don’t have an account to interact with and follow specific people; I just check out the trending topics of that day, of that hour. I know, I know, it is not the most reliable source of news and information, and is an arena for paid trolls, but I just want the gist of what people are talking about and what’s happening in real time. You see, if there’s an earthquake, fire, heavy rains, or floods, people are most likely to post about it in seconds, like a reflex.

Consistent on the trend list are K-pop fans, talking about their favorite artists, spamming to clear up searches for them, and other fandom things. These fans have a strong presence on this social media platform. Also on the list of most talked about or most bashed about are actors, actresses, vloggers, social media influencers, and of course, politicians. 

One morning, as usual, I checked the trends and saw an unfamiliar name in hashtag form: #JusticeForMichelleSilvertino.

Michelle Silvertino, female, 33 years old, stranded on the streets, who died waiting for a bus to get back home and be with her children.

My mind did not seem to comprehend. Somebody died from waiting for 5 days for a bus? Why? I frantically clicked other related news about it. But she did die out of waiting.

Still confused about what to do with this information, I stared blankly at the ceiling. She was 33. I am now 33. She had left 4 kids, the eldest at 11 years old. I also lost my mom when I was 11. It was as if the numbers were telling me that I could be like that person now and die too, or were trying to bring back my feelings of when I was a bereaved child, disarrayed by the concept of death. It just brought back the 11-year old kid in me. Confused, angry, frustrated, but helpless.

There was no clear information about her death. It just said that she had an existing lung problem, difficulty breathing, and a fever when rushed to the hospital. In the end, she was considered a probable case of COVID-19. Another number added to the thousands of people. Her real story, we will never know.

What was it like to wait 5 days for a bus? What happened in between? What was she thinking? How did she feel? We will never know because subjective things like that are not measurable, and do not trigger a strong call for action, policy-wise.

Let’s spin the wheel of blame. Will it be the local government unit? The national government? The Department of Transport? The staff of the Department of Health? Or is it the victims’ fault? Well, let's just blame it all on the pandemic.

So where’s the justice in this? In reality, there is a whole population that needs help. Everybody needs help, but there is an order to receive that help. There is a system that assesses and categorizes people to justify and prioritize who needs help first. And of course, there is a limit to the help being distributed. There are limited resources available and a tolerance towards theft. It is admittedly also difficult to find and locate one person out of the population to send precise help. Every day we hear stories of suffering; it seems to never end. Some stories are isolated, some follow consistent trends. Some just punch straight to the heart. And some are never listened to. (READ: DSWD cash aid comes after Michelle Silvertino dies)

Trending topics, more often than not, are developed through opinions, rants, and frustrations by a significant number of people collectively mentioning a keyword. But just how powerful is that digital voice? How can it change the country and give us “hashtag” justice? I hear some say, “Hanggang hashtag na lang ba tayo?” Given the tainted reputation of social media, will people in positions of power take these trending topics seriously and let them prompt change?

The same day, that afternoon, Michelle's hashtag had dropped out of the trending topics list.

Where were the angry people calling for justice now? Some still talk about her, but they are relatively too few to get her back on the trend list. K-pop fans are back at it again. Bashers are back out there talking about some celebrity's statement. Trolls are back out there earning money as you click and argue with them. The day goes on.

After you read this, whisper a simple prayer for Michelle and her family. May she rest in peace. – Rappler.com

Clarice Sarao is a public health worker. She has social anxiety but tries to be socially aware. She wrote this in an attempt to be audacious, but kept writing in the passive voice. 


Police block protesters in 'grand mañanita' rally on Independence day

$
0
0

ON GUARD. Grand Mañanita protesters enter the UP Campus by bicycle as police block the University Avenue on Independence Day, June 12, 2020. Photo by Angie de Silva/Rappler

MANILA, Philippines – Although hundreds of individuals were able to take part in the "grand mananita” themed indignation rally on Friday, June 12, other protesters were barred entering the protest site inside the University of the Philippines Diliman. 

Ahead of the protest, police set up a checkpoint along Commonwealth Avenue going into UP. Quezon City Police Department (QCPD) officers were also seen in front of the Commission on Human Rights. 

In a  Daily Guardian report, UP law student Meg Sandoval recounted in her Facebook post that she wasn’t able to join the mañanita protest after police blocked the entry points, preventing her and her companions from entering the protest site. 

Their cars were not allowed to pass through and police didn’t give them an answer why they were denied entry. 

Sandoval said that when she attempted to enter the gate again on foot, the police followed and stood in her way with hands outstretched to prevent her from walking further. 

“My sister and I stopped about 50 yards away because our other companions could not get through. Several army police personnel surrounded them and then closed the main gate. They also blocked the pedestrian gate with their arms, getting too close to my friends and brother. Eventually my sister and I went outside to stay together with our companions,” Sandoval said.

Rappler contributor JC Punongbayan echoed this. In a Twitter post, he said that past 11 am on Friday, while the UP protest was ongoing, the police successfully blocked all entry via UPD's Magsaysay Gate, beside Asian Center. 

Under the Soto-Enrile accord of 1982, the Philippine National Police (PNP) and the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) are barred from entering any of the UP campuses without prior permission from the administration or unless they are in hot pursuit of a crime suspect.

In provinces

This is not the first time that police officers were seen inside the UP campus in a protest mobilization. 

Over a week ago, 7 activists and one bystander were arrested in an indignation rally in UP Cebu. Police dispersed them and chased protesters inside the campus. 

In that UP Cebu demonstration, police in anti-riot gear were seen on video manhandling protesters who were maintaining social distancing and assembling in front of university campus.  But in the rally held by supporters of the anti-terrorism bill on Independence Day, only a few policemen were deployed to the site.

In Iligan City, police arrested 16 students in an Independence Day rally against the anti-terror bill even if the students strictly observed physical distancing measures. Northern Mindanao police chief Brigadier General Rolando Anduyan said that the students were apprehended for violating quarantine rules at the Freedom Park of Iligan City. 

In Tuguegarao City, Kabataan Partylist Cagayan Valley reported that youth activists staging a protest were threatened by the police that if they insisted on proceeding with the activity, they would be arrested.  

For this year’s commemoration of the Philippines' 122nd Independence Day, various groups held "mañanita" protests nationwide taking off from the widely criticized birthday celebration of National Capital Region Police Office chief Major General Debold Sinas, which was held during lockdown. Despite breaching quarantine protocols, Sinas kept his post after being defended by President Rodrigo Duterte himself.

On the eve of the Independence Day protests, the Department of Justice (DOJ) said rallies were "temporarily banned" during the pandemic for public health reasons.– Rappler.com 

Indigenous youth find ways to help communities hit by pandemic

$
0
0

AID. Young people provide food aid to Karen communities living in n Northern Thailand in May. Photo from Phnom Thano of the Indigenous Media Network

BANGKOK, Thailand – When the COVID-19 pandemic hit Bangladesh, 27-year-old Chandra Tripura was paralyzed by feelings of fear and uncertainty.

“For the first two weeks, I was kind of frustrated because I realized this will be tragic for us,” Chandra said. “If a country like China, which is developed, had to suffer for 3 months...Bangladesh, which is underdeveloped, could take 6 months.” 

It did not take long, however, before Chandra, a professional dancer and social entrepreneur, realized that she had to channel her frustration into action. Two weeks after Bangladesh imposed strict lockdown and curfew measures, she began communicating with other social entrepreneurs to explore alternative ways of conducting their businesses, and to work with artists to help affected communities. 

A member of the Tripura ethnic group in Bangladesh, Chandra is one of many indigenous young people in South and Southeast Asia who have chosen to respond to the challenges of the pandemic, even if they have also been affected by it.

Struggles

As it is, indigenous groups in the region already face major challenges. When it comes to education, employment, and health, they are on average more marginalized and without access. With the spread of COVID-19, these problems have become even greater. 

One of the more obvious issues facing indigenous youth and their communities during the pandemic has been access to public health. With disruptions in transportation and road closures, there has been a shortage of medical supplies in remote areas where many indigenous communities live. Many health workers lack knowledge of local cultures and languages, making communication with their patients a challenge. 

One example is a 22-year-old Tripura woman in Bangladesh who died in childbirth in April. Road conditions under the lockdown measures prevented her from safely giving birth in a healthcare facility.

In neighboring Myanmar, Ke Jung, a student from the Naga indigenous group who is studying at the Yangon University of Economics, had similar concerns. His family lives in the country’s northwest Naga territory, which has limited access to health and public services.

“I feel like I can’t do anything at all,” the 30-year-old said. “The worry is that if something happens to Naga, what can we do? It takes two days for shipments to reach hospitals there.”

Education is another challenge facing the indigenous youth. While the shift to online instruction has allowed many students to continue learning, it also aggravates inequalities due to the digital divide. For young indigenous learners, many of whom live in remote areas with no or limited internet access, online education is nearly impossible.

“Schools should also take into consideration indigenous students who do not have access to the internet and the devices needed for e-learning,” said Ned Tuguinay, a 22-year-old activist from the Igorot community in Luzon, Philippines. “We are trying to convince universities to suspend online learning, and to end or extend the semester instead.”

But for many, including indigenous people, loss of income is more critical than access to education. With people working in vulnerable industries such as tourism, construction, and agriculture, an untold number of indigenous youth have lost their jobs. Some are stranded in cities under lockdown without any money, while others have left for their hometowns, potentially spreading the virus.

For young indigenous social entrepreneurs such as Juvita Wan, a 35-year-old Kenyah woman in Malaysia who co-founded the Tuyang Initiative, the pandemic has largely shut down commercial activities.

“Earning opportunities were already scarce,” Wan said. “Now, imagine being away from family and community, having zero income, and being locked in a town or city that’s not home.” 

Need for action

While most governments in the region have implemented strict measures to control the spread of the virus, there have been varied responses to the additional risks facing indigenous communities. In some cases, there has been little attempt to support and consult with representatives of indigenous communities, resulting in slow and uncoordinated aid distribution and information sharing. 

“We need to elect leaders who are not only responsible and accountable, but most importantly inclusive,” said Jal Mustari, a 23-year-old Maranao man living in Marawi City in the Philippines, and founder of the social enterprise Aretes Style. 

There has also been a movement towards self-sufficiency within these communities that is being demonstrated during the pandemic.

Rather than letting their businesses fail, young social entrepreneurs in Bangladesh and Nepal are redirecting services to deliver food to people who are unable to leave home.

Indigenous farmers in northern Thailand have started sharing surpluses from their crop yields with their communities’ most disadvantaged people. In neighboring Myanmar, young activists like Ke Jung have been coordinating efforts to provide supplies to people who are quarantined, as well as working with the Myanmar government to translate COVID-19-related information from Burmese into his native language. (READ:Cebuano youth seek to help local communities understand COVID-19)

Finally, several young indigenous persons in Bangladesh and the Philippines are raising funds among university students to provide support to indigenous communities. 

“People are now challenging themselves to do something productive,” said Barsha Lekhi, a 27-year-old Tharu woman who was crowned Miss International Nepal in 2016.

COVID-19 has dramatically altered lives across South and Southeast Asia, but for the most vulnerable groups, including indigenous communities, the pandemic has aggravated problems that were already there.

Indigenous youth have shown resilience in the face of these problems, but they need more support from governments and civil society to build back better for their communities. – Rappler.com

[ANALYSIS] Famine at the shores

$
0
0

Most fishing communities depend on a slew of traditional and modern forecasts to see a storm coming. At the best times, this gives them ample time to secure their boats and houses, get loans to stock up on food, and brace themselves for at most a week of skipped meals. And it is not resilience that enables this; it’s survival. 

But the COVID-19 pandemic hit their shores with sudden and life-altering impacts from both the pandemic and the lockdowns at its heel, exacerbating their already dire circumstances. 

In Andra Pradesh, trawlers were still at sea when the lockdown was announced, docking in an almost empty port – no buyers waiting at the shore, fishmeal processing plants closed. 

Today, many fish ports have either scaled down or closed as month-long lockdowns remain in place. In Java, where four-fifths of COVID-19 cases in Indonesia were found, fishers fear choosing between feeding their families or risking exposure because of poorly equipped harbors. In Tamil Nadu and Kerala, fishing ports have shut down altogether – incurring an estimated monthly loss of US$896 million for the fishing industry. In West Africa and East Asia, fishing activities dropped between 60-80%. (READ: Net loss: Virus hammers Senegal's fish exporters)

As the world grapples with the continuously unfolding crises in public health, economy, and food security, fishing communities face exacerbated hunger, job insecurity, and uncertainty of survival. 

Trade and tourism collapse

Abrupt supply chain failures and closure of restaurants have also resulted in massive unemployment and insecurity for those working in aquaculture and commercial fishing. Prices for lobster, crab, halibut, and other high value catches dropped so low in the past months that operators would rather stay on the shore than fish at a loss. Aquaculture in the Global South, on the other hand, is highly dependent on both global demand and fishmeal imports. In both cases, fish workers and daily earners along the supply chain bear of the brunt of massive unemployment and job insecurity. 

Besides, the sharp freeze in tourism revenues has particularly hit coastal economies and many small island developing nations (SIDS). The dangled incentives of the "blue economy" paradigm and declining valuation of small-scale fishing industries have forced many villages to increasingly rely on tourists for income. But with most flights grounded, both community revenues and conservation efforts are in peril.

Around the world, policies of social distancing effectively decommissioned hundreds of thousands of small boats used by small-scale fisherfolk. Globally, there are approximately 108 million people directly employed in small-scale fisheries including post-harvest processing and marketing. In Namibia, artisanal fishers were ordered to halt fishing operations altogether as they were not deemed essential to national food security.  

Women make up half of the small-scale fishers, up to 70% in aquaculture, and at least 80% in post-harvest processing and selling. Those in fishmeal plants mostly work in cramped up spaces which may become a “hotspot” for COVID-19 spread. At least 81% of artisanal fishers’ catch goes to local consumption so bans in motorcycles and logistics chokepoints mean most women cannot sell the harvests like before. 

Pre-existing vulnerabilities

In many fishing villages, fish workers and their families live precariously on daily loans and wages. In a recent study, researchers found that some fish workers in large commercial fishing vessels work in slave-like conditions. Mostly migrants from Indonesia, Cambodia, and Malaysia, some fish workers in the Pacific routinely experience overwork, withholding of wages, debt bondage, and physical and sexual violence. Globally, some 21 million people are trapped in the vicious cycle of transnational slave labor in both legal and illegal fishing boats. (READ: Food security frontliners: Coronavirus lockdown pushes farmers, fisherfolk into deeper poverty)

In extreme cases, fish workers are held onboard their ill-equipped ships for weeks before docking, leaving their families to starve. In India, migrants fish workers are stranded inside their boats without adequate food and water. Until last month, tens of thousands are still stranded from several states including Gujarat, Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Karnataka, Maharashtra, and Goa. As the huge majority of them work in monthly contracts, employers are under no obligation to keep them in payrolls when fishing operations cease. 

Similarly, small-scale fishers live off their daily catch with little to no access to social services and without safety nets. In a third of countries with a significant fisheries sector, average incomes of artisanal fishers fall below the poverty line. While they contribute up to a third of fish consumed by humans directly, they remain the most poor and vulnerable in developing countries. 

Old and new threats resurface

Seafood is a multi-billion-dollar global industry but is riddled with systemic inequalities and exploitation. A recent landmark study found that higher-income countries are responsible for 97% of total fishing effort in both the high seas and the global exclusive economic zones (EEZs). To boot, China, Taiwan, and South Korea alone constitute two-thirds of fishing efforts in poor nations' EEZs in 2017. This is especially devastating for poor fishing villages in West African countries like Equatorial Guinea, Guinea Bissau, Sierra Leone, and Senegal where overfishing takes a toll on poor coastal communities. 

In Guinea alone, where 75% of people rely on fisheries for protein intake, some 80% of industrial fishing effort in the EEZ are being done by Chinese flag-bearing vessels. Earlier studies found that some foreign vessels used the 2018 Ebola scare to encroach in their waters, and fishers are afraid that it’s happening again. Similarly, highly subsidized vessels from European countries like Spain cause overfishing and overexploitation of fish stocks in the region. Massive government contracts and fishing licenses handed over to foreign vessels often displace domestic fishers and put an untethered strain on marine resources.

Decades of neoliberal policies in ocean management, corruption, and historical neglect to small fishers’ rights has entrenched the wide inequity in exploiting this common good. 

While many fishing villages remain on lockdown, some governments are renegotiating licenses with foreign vessels and oil exploration companies, pursuing development aggression that displaces fishers, and reneging to encroachment from foreign countries. In every aspect, poor fishers and fish workers lose out. Although inequality is a multifaceted phenomenon, it only has one face for the poorest of the poor: hunger. And this is especially true today amid the impacts of the pandemic. 

Shifting winds?

The "blue growth" paradigm has failed to protect vulnerable fishing communities and poor nations’ food security but instead concentrated the ocean’s resources to a handful of nations. 

Fisheries constitute more than half of protein consumption in non-landlocked countries, and up to 80% in SIDS and poor countries – playing a huge role in food security. However, recent studies found that fishmeal for wealthier nations’ aquaculture is depriving the poorest communities of nutrient-rich wild fish. Furthermore, the falling catch of artisanal fishers could plunge 850 million more to malnutrition globally.

In India where the fisheries sector contributes approximately 1% of the GDP and employs over 14 million people, massive unemployment in the sector is a double whammy for food security. It’s estimated that half the workforce in the country lost their jobs, mostly informal workers including artisanal fishers and fish workers. More than 85% of West Africans forced to stay at home are now either skipping meals or eating less because of the lockdown.  

As the globe celebrates World Oceans Day, it’s important to note how this abundant resource is at the center of huge inequalities and exploitation. As with many things, COVID-19 is exposing the unjust and unsustainable systems in place which puts the burden to the poorest communities in times of crisis. 

Amid the pandemic, States in the Global South must act swiftly to protect and support small-scale fishers, harvesters, and fish workers through cash aid and production support. Social safety nets must be put in place to shield the blue frontliners against the impacts of the COVID-19 prevention policies. 

To fully address the structural inequality in fisheries and safeguard domestic food security, however, radical reforms should be the top priority. Ownership and control of EEZs must be put back in the hands of domestic fishers, especially small-scale fishers. Just, equitable, and sustainable fisheries must be developed with and for the most vulnerable fishing communities. Similarly, States must guarantee protection for fish workers in commercial fishing vessels against precarious employment and risky working conditions. (READ: U.P. marine scientists: 'West Philippine Sea is for Filipinos')

Fishers are on the frontlines of ensuring nations’ food security and the ocean’s health, and it’s high time the protection of their rights set sail. – Rappler.com

John Carlo Mercado is currently a policy advocacy writer for Peoples Coalition on Food Sovereignty. He has been a land and food rights activist for 15 years and has worked with grassroots organizations in the Philippines and elsewhere.

You can catch him on Twitter at @darnitJC.

‘A painful but necessary watch’: Filipinos laud ‘A Thousand Cuts’

$
0
0

MANILA, Philippines – Filipinos all over the country praised director Ramona Diaz’s documentary, A Thousand Cuts, for portraying the “eye-opening” realities of Philippine democracy and press freedom under President Rodrigo Duterte. (READ: Ramona Diaz's 'A Thousand Cuts': 'A risky film on free press, lawless regime')

The film streamed for free in the Philippines on Friday, June 12, and was available for 24 hours.

A Thousand Cuts focused on Rappler’s Maria Ressa along with several of this news organization’s writers and editors as they discussed the struggles of a free press under Duterte. Duterte has openly criticized Rappler and its reporters since he was elected in 2016, and even outright banned Malacañang reporter Pia Ranada from entering the compound.

The documentary also followed several key government officials, including Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa, Mocha Uson, and then candidate Samira Gutoc as they campaigned during the 2019 Philippine midterm elections. 

A Thousand Cuts gained over 100,000 views on Youtube in the 24 hours it was available for streaming.

Ressa and #AThousandCuts also trended on Twitter Saturday afternoon, June 13.

While watching the documentary, several Filipinos were angered by the Duterte administration and its moves to stifle the press. A number of users stated it was a necessary, albeit difficult watch.

A number of users screencapped certain scenes of the film involving government officials, including House Speaker Alan Peter Cayetano’s controversial exchange with Uson about “buying interviews” from the media.

Other Filipinos commended journalists for their strength and resilience.

Ang hirap maging journalist. You need not to fear, so kailangan malaman mo yung worst-case scenario and embrace it,” user @sabenimitch said.

“It’s not just about Rappler. It reflects the situation of every journalist who speak for truth,” user @cloudybazookas said.

 

Marvin Tomandao, events host and former GMA reporter highlighted how the film spoke not just about Rappler’s issues and press freedom, but also for Philippine democracy.

“Offhand, this is about the thousand cuts [Ressa] and Rappler take in the fight for press freedom. But really it’s about the thousand cuts our democracy takes under a fascist regime,” Tomandao said.

Celebrities and personalities also thanked Ressa and other Rapplers for their bravery and dedication.

Here’s what other Filipinos had to say about the documentary:

After the film’s streaming, PBS documentary series FRONTLINE will be presenting an exclusive conversation with Ressa and Diaz on the importance of press freedom on Saturday, June 13, at 8 pm, Philippine time. – Rappler.com

[OPINION] The humanitarian imperative and the threat of the Anti-Terror Bill

$
0
0

 

Two weeks ago, House Bill No. 6875, or the proposed “Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020,” hurdled its second reading at the plenary, after it was certified as urgent by President Rodrigo Duterte. The House of Representatives subsequently approved the bill on third and final reading, and became an enrolled bill with its Senate counterpart, for the President’s signature.

Dissenters took to social media to protest the bill. Reading on the Anti-Terror Bill’s contentious provisions, critics allege that the bill appears on its face to threaten freedoms and rights enjoyed by citizens under a democracy. (READ: EXPLAINER: Comparing dangers in old law and anti-terror bill)

An important issue, though less discussed in online debates, is the bill’s implication on people’s access to humanitarian support. Section 13 of HB 6875 provides a humanitarian exemption from the criminal acts stated in Section 12 on providing material support to terrorists. Under Section 13, organizations such as the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) and the Philippine Red Cross (PRC) are allowed to conduct their activities without the burden of being tagged as supporters of terrorist organizations. The provision also grants exemption to other organizations on the condition that they are state-recognized and impartial in providing aid, in accordance with the IHL. It is this seeming "exception to the exemption" that is a cause for concern for both humanitarian actors working in conflict settings, and the communities that they serve. 

In situations of displacement, loss of livelihood, loss of shelter, disruption of education, restricted freedom of movement, and other issues, all create risks to the safety, dignity, and well-being of the affected population. Aid from government or non-government humanitarian actors thus take on a lifesaving character. However, in situations when the government is not able to provide support due to various reasons, humanitarian aid workers step in to provide the necessary support and protection that is needed by affected communities. This is in view of the foremost principle of humanitarian practice: the humanitarian imperative.

The International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement defines the humanitarian imperative as "the right to receive, and offer, humanitarian assistance." This principle emanates from our concept of a shared humanity. It has two intertwined concepts, either of which cannot stand without the other: the right to offer humanitarian support, and the right of those in need to receive it. Affected communities must receive aid, and those who aim to provide aid must not be prevented by the State or its agents to deliver services. 

This principle is likewise enshrined in Principle 18 of the UN Guiding Principles of Internal Displacement, which provides that all internally displaced persons (IDPs) have the right to adequate standard of living, and competent authorities shall provide IDPs with safe access to food and potable water, adequate shelter, appropriate clothing, medical services and sanitation, among others.

This is where Section 13 of the Anti-Terror Bill raises concerns. Although the section provides that humanitarian activities are not to be construed as provision of support to terrorists, the section also highlights that humanitarian groups who can provide assistance that enjoys exemption are only those organizations that are “state-recognized.” This provision gives broad powers to the implementers of the law to determine which groups can provide aid without incurring penal liability, and which ones will be under potential pain of penalty under Section 12 of the bill, in addition to being branded or associated with terrorists.

This provision goes against the humanitarian imperative, and the principles of humanity, neutrality, impartiality, independence, and Do No Harm. With this expansion of State powers to determine which groups and persons can be protected by law as they conduct their humanitarian work, aid organizations could lose their impartiality and independence in providing assistance. With a restrictive interpretation of this provision, compliance with requirements for state recognition could be as mundane as filing paperwork to actually choosing which side to provide aid to. 

At present, most non-government humanitarian providers are registered or recognized in different ways and for very specific purposes – for example, to obtain corporate personality; to qualify as implementing partners of government agencies in projects involving public funds; to qualify as entities that may receive tax-deductible donations; and so on. These are not requirements for a person or group of persons be able to provide succor to the needy, as it should be rightly so. 

Supporters of the bill argue that the qualifier “state-recognized” in Section 13 is there to ensure that no sympathizer organizations could provide support to terrorist groups. This assumption fails to consider that the humanitarian imperative is a duty that actors, including the State and other parties to conflict, must observe. Should there be individuals or groups that will use the humanitarian platform to support or propagate terrorism, they could well come under the general prohibition under Sec. 12, the other provisions in the bill, or other laws such as the IHL.

Supporters of the measure also assure the public that there is no need to be afraid of the Anti-Terror Bill if they are not, or do not coddle, terrorists. Aside from this logic being fallacious, this view poses harm to those who conduct legitimate humanitarian work in conflict-afflicted communities. The issue remains that the elements to determine who are terrorists appear to be vague and overbroad.

Section 13 also creates a chilling effect that could deter organizations from delivering services. Aid workers may be implicated should they provide life-saving intervention to communities where suspected terrorists reside. Should they decide to be recognized under this law, humanitarian actors may face limitations from the State that may interfere with their work or humanitarian principles. The State may also redirect the supplies and services of these organizations away from communities that need them the most. These are all contravention to the humanitarian principles, particularly the principles of humanity and independence.

A bill that protects communities from terrorism and its effects is a commendable measure. In an uncertain time when those who seek to sow terror are emboldened to conduct attacks against the public, policies must be instituted to penalize those who aim to propagate fear and chaos. However, said measure must not encroach on human rights, which includes the right to access humanitarian support and the right to offer it.

With the current version of the Anti-Terror Bill, the humanitarian imperative is relegated as a secondary concern when in fact it should be at the heart of any measure that directly addresses violence and its effects. State recognition of non-state aid services, though relevant, must not infringe on the independence of aid providers. Humanitarian work must continue to be impartial and politically neutral in its services and to its clients, and should remain as such. (READ: DOJ's precarious role in the contested anti-terror bill)

There is no need to qualify which humanitarian groups could enjoy protection and which could not. Humanitarian workers must be protected by the law, not harmed by it. A measure that threatens the practice of humanitarian work in the name of counter-terrorism is a terrorizing policy itself. This policy must be heavily scrutinized with that in mind. – Rappler.com

Reinna Bermudez is OIC Chief of the Commission on Human Rights' Center for Crisis, Conflict, and Humanitarian Protection. She is also Juris Doctor student at the University of the Philippines College of Law.

'Inviting the beast'? #HijaAko trends as women call out victim blaming

$
0
0

MANILA, Philippines – Rape exists because of rapists.

This sentiment was echoed in thousands of tweets as women took to Twitter on Sunday, June 14, to shut down the misconception that their outfits are to blame for sexual assault.

Using the hashtag #HijaAko, women came forward with their own stories of harassment, pointing out how these incidents occurred even if they were not wearing revealing clothing.

The hashtag went viral after Frankie Pangilinan, the outspoken daughter of "Megastar" Sharon Cuneta and Senator Francis Pangilinan, used it to reclaim the term "hija" to refer to "girls who fight for their rights as human beings."

Pangilinan earlier tweeted the need to teach people not to rape in reaction to an online post of the Lucban Municipal Police Station that told women to avoid wearing revealing clothes so they would not be targeted for sex crimes.

Seemingly talking down to Pangilinan by calling her "hija," broadcaster Ben Tulfo said sex offenders would pounce on any opportunity to commit unwanted sexual advances, and urged "sexy ladies" to be careful with the way they dress because they might be "inviting the beast."

Tulfo reiterated his point in a separate Facebook post on Saturday night, June 13.

"Bago natin sila baguhin, baguhin muna natin ang sarili't pag-iisip natin. Gets mo, hija?" he said. (Before we change them for the better, we should first change our way of thinking. Do you get it, child?)

Pangilinan later countered Tulfo, saying his way of thinking has only continued normalizing rape culture and the objectification of women's bodies.

"Rape culture is real and a product of this precise line of thinking, where the behavior is normalized, particularly by men. The way anyone dresses should not be deemed as 'opportunity' to sexually assault them ever. Calling me hija will not belittle my point," Pangilinan said in a tweet.

Women quickly backed Pangilinan's points by using the hashtag to showcase the very real incidents of harassment that occur because of men's behavior, not because of their outfits.

Many added that clothing should never be used to excuse sexual harassment and inappropriate behavior, pointing out how even young children and babies have become targets of predators. (READ: The many faces of sexual harassment)

"Excuse me, Ben Tulfo, the way 'sexy ladies' dress up is not an invitation to the 'beast.' As long as men like you who think this way exists, we will never be able to abolish the culture of victim blaming. Rape exists because of rapists," Twitter user @Joannaaaabanana said.

By Sunday afternoon, the hashtag quickly rose to Twitter Philippines' top trends, with at least 4,121 tweets.

One Twitter user pointed out that conversations about the existence of rape culture and victim blaming should be taken offline as well to help dismantle people's misconceptions that it's merely up to women to protect themselves from sex crimes.

Another even provided a list of resources that people can study to better understand that sexual assault happens because of the offender's actions and decisions.

Here's what others have to say about the matter:

– Rappler.com 

Waves of donations come in for beloved 'Tubig Queen of Cebu'

$
0
0

NOT YOUR USUAL VENDOR. Dodoy Teberio (right), also known as the 'Tubig Queen of Cebu,' turns to social media for help, as the coronavirus pandemic strips away their livelihood. On the left is his mother, Flor. Photos from Dodoy Teberio

CEBU CITY, Philippines – Using the streets of Barangay Mabolo in Cebu City as his catwalk, Dodoy Teberio became known for strutting in colorful garments while selling bottled water to passersby, often smiling and waving like a beauty queen.

Today, that proud vendor is known by many as the "Tubig Queen of Cebu."

Usually wearing a flowery wide-brimmed hat and red lipstick, Dodoy has become a flamboyant icon in the community. (READ: Indigenous youth find ways to help communities hit by pandemic)

He started selling bottled water to fund his education, hoping to become a teacher to help his family financially.

In 2017, he finally graduated from the University of Cebu-Main Campus with a bachelor's degree in secondary education major in MAPEH (Music, Arts, Physical Education, and Health). He moved on to teaching physical education to high school students at Our Lady of Joy Learning Center.

Before the coronavirus struck, Dodoy recalled, he traveled long distances almost every day to reach his students in Consolacion town. He shrugged this off as a minor inconvenience, saying he enjoys the idea of traveling far.

Dodoy is loved by his students for being a fun and approachable teacher, and is often seen praying when not busy. He lives by the phrase "Laughter is the best medicine."

But due to the pandemic, his job as a private school teacher was abruptly put on hold. His family also couldn’t sell bottled water in the streets of Mabolo, leaving them with little to nothing for their daily needs.

After realizing that he couldn't go back to work anytime soon, Dodoy started to worry for his family who relied on him as the breadwinner.

"In truth, it is super difficult for us as we have no food at all. I'm on no-work-no-pay and my parents are just vendors as well. We can't sell anything because it's illegal to go outside," Dodoy said in Cebuano.

Hesitant to reach out at first, Dodoy messaged Clare Sanchez Inso, the actress who played Dodoy's best friend in the 2017 GMA adaptation of his story, for help.

At that time, his family no longer had any food to eat.

In hopes of helping the beloved water vendor, Inso asked for his details and location in case anyone wanted to offer in-kind donations. She later went on Facebook to let more people know about Dodoy's situation.

Kind-hearted Filipinos responded to Dodoy's situation immediately by sending rice and other household essentials. 

On June 2, Dodoy's mother Flor Teberio even received goods from Cebu's Oasis of Love Community and close family friends.

The help did not stop at donations.

On May 30, Dodoy was offered a part-time job as a disk jockey at the Yes! The Best 91.5 FM radio station in Cebu. 

Dodoy said personnel from the radio station contacted him personally after seeing his post asking for help during the pandemic.

Dodoy was wholeheartedly welcomed at the radio station. He intends to make the most out of his stay while waiting for the announcement of class resumptions. 

His program, featuring pop songs, airs from 11 am to 3 pm every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. He also gives great advice for callers with life problems.

"I have so much to be thankful for. Only God can repay them all. Even in this pandemic, let's not forget to laugh and pray together," Dodoy said.

With Cebu province under general community quarantine, Dodoy's family still heavily relies on donations since they can't sell outside.

Should you wish to extend your help in cash or in kind, here are his details:

GCash: 09325134759
Jay Kummer S. Teberio
Address: Mabolo, Cebu City 

You may also directly contact Dodoy through his Messenger account– Rappler.com 


#CourageON: How you can support Rappler after cyber libel verdict

$
0
0

MANILA, Philippines – Today is a day of grief, mourning, and rage for us here at Rappler. 

Manila Regional Trial Court Judge Rainelda Estacio Montesa convicted Rappler CEO and Executive Editor Maria Ressa and former researcher-writer Rey Santos Jr of cyber libel. 

We've released our statement here.

The decision will not silence us. It has made us more resolute in our mission to hold power to account. 

The verdict stems from a Rappler story published in May 2012, at the height of the impeachment trial of former chief justice Renato Corona and 4 months before the cybercrime law was enacted. It took businessman Wilfredo Keng more than 5 years to file a complaint against us – in October 2017, barely 3 months after President Duterte slammed Rappler in his State of the Nation Address and before other government cases and investigations were filed against us. And his lawyers used a typographical error that we corrected in 2014 as the basis for accusing us of a crime retroactively. 

The businessman’s camp will drown you in details and technicalities to make you lose sight of this context. But this is pure harassment that’s meant to silence independent voices.

Today’s verdict sets a dangerous precedent not only for journalists but for everyone online. This is not just about Maria or Rey or Rappler. This is about fundamental rights of every citizen who refuses to be intimidated by the powerful who do wrong and whom they dare criticize and expose.

We call on our friends, media colleagues, our community, and other advocates of a free and independent press to be vigilant and vocal now more than ever. 

Together, let us continue to hold the line. Here are some ways you can do so: 

Make a stand online 

Don’t let the verdict silence you. Make a stand and express it online. When sharing your thoughts and call to action on this issue, make sure to use the hashtags #DefendPressFreedom, #HoldTheLine, and #CourageON. 

You can also use these Facebook profile frames: #DefendPressFreedom, #CourageON

Help Rappler continue its journalism 

Support Rappler’s crowdfunding which helps fund our legal battles and our investigative stories. Visit rappler.com/crowdfunding to donate.

You can also join Rappler+, a community that offers a safe space for conversations and collaboration. Visit rappler.com/plus to learn more and sign up.

Take action in your communities and networks

We are overwhelmed by the support we are getting from human rights groups, lawmakers, youth groups, campus publications, media groups, and international networks

If you have a statement in support of Rappler, please share them with move.ph@rappler.com so we can also amplify them to our network. 

We also urge you to go offline and talk to your peers, friends, and family. Share with them why this verdict is important and why it goes beyond Rappler. Here are some stories you can read and share

 – Rappler.com

Journalists show solidarity with Ressa and Santos, slam guilty verdict

$
0
0

 

MANILA, Philippines – For journalists all over the country, the guilty verdict on Maria Ressa and Reynaldo Santos Jr carried a clear message: “To be critical is to be snuffed out.”

Backing Rappler, embattled media network ABS-CBN joined calls to uphold press freedom and freedom of speech in the country following the announcement of the guilty verdict.

The Foreign Correspondents Association of the Philippines, on the other hand, said the verdict only shows there is now a “new weapon in a growing legal arsenal against constitutionally guaranteed civil liberties in an Asian outpost of democracy.” (READ: What Rappler conviction means for reporting confidential sources)

The Photojournalists' Center of the Philippines Inc. chimed in: "Convicting Maria Ressa and Reynaldo Santos Jr. for an 'updated article,' that was already beyond the prescriptive period for libel smacks of a targeted attack on media that has been publishing not only glossy stories on the administration."

The National Union of Journalists of the Philippines (NUJP) and AlterMidya also slammed the guilty verdict, saying the cyber libel provision in the law can now be used as a “potent tool for political vendetta against journalists and citizens whose only "'crime’ is to be perceived as critical of government.”

“It would render journalists and citizens defenseless against government and officials who will use anything and everything to evade accountability and to silence those who dare ask them questions,” added Let’s Organize for Democracy and Integrity.

The cyber libel case stemmed from Santos’ May 2012 article on the late former chief justice Renato Corona's links to businessmen, including Wilfredo Keng, who disputed parts of the article that quoted an intelligence report linking him to drugs and human trafficking.

Although the article was published in 2012, Keng only filed a complaint in 2017, beyond the one-year prescription period for libel under the Revised Penal Code.

The article in question was also published 4 months before the enactment of the cybercrime law in September 2012, sparking questions about retroactivity.

The Department of Justice had used the theory of republication to justify the article’s coverage in the cybercrime law after Rappler corrected a typographical error on February 19, 2014, belatedly spotting the misspelled "evation" and changing it to "evasion." 

The Daily Guardian warned how Rappler’s cyber libel case has become a “cautionary tale of the travails and challenges that Philippine journalism faces.”

“It is apparent that the law and government institutions are being weaponized to at the very least discourage the journalists from reporting on matters that have inimical effects on our rights, liberties, and even lives,” it said.

In a series of tweets, ABS-CBN journalist Ces Oreña-Drilon pointed out how the Rappler cyber libel verdict will have serious implications for Filipino journalists, remarking how Keng’s complaint “moved with unusual speed in a country where the wheels of justice turn so slowly.”

Call for unity

Other journalists including Danilo Arao and Jeff Canoy have also spoken up, echoing concerns about the verdict’s “chilling effect” not just on journalists but on all people.

ABS-CBN’s Jeff Canoy especially highlighted how journalists must strengthen ranks and collaborate more to ensure the protection of press freedom in light of recent attacks and threats against media.

Blow to press freedom

The guilty verdict comes amid several attacks against the media.

Just recently, ABS-CBN was forced to go off-air after the National Telecommunications Commission ordered it to stop television and radio operations. Lawmakers had dragged their heels in tackling the franchise renewal of the embattled network, eventually leading to its shutdown.

Rappler's cyber libel case is only one of many court cases, complaints, and investigations it has received since January 2018, barely 6 months after President Rodrigo Duterte falsely claimed in his July 2017 State of the Nation Address that Rappler is "fully owned by Americans."

“The verdict basically kills freedom of speech and of the press. But we will not be cowed. We will continue to stand our ground against all attempts to suppress our freedoms,” added the NUJP.

The Cebu Citizens-Press Council urged Congress to amend the cybercrime law to fix the prescriptive period and “not leave it to judges who may err to be misguided in interpreting the law.”

“CCPC worries specifically on the impact of the decision on future prosecutions for cyber-libel. It worries for journalists who'd be facing for 12 years the threat of litigation for each potentially libelous publication...The prolonged threat will cause greater harm to journalists who need to do their job freely without the constant threat of being sued, even over material published more than a decade before,” they said. – Rappler.com

'Another blow to press freedom’: Student groups condemn cyber libel conviction

$
0
0

MANILA, Philippines – Several groups and campus publications decried the guilty verdict on Rappler CEO and Executive Editor Maria Ressa and former Rappler researcher-writer Reynaldo Santos over cyber libel charges in a decision handed down Monday, June 15.

The cyber libel charges were filed by businessman Wilfredo Keng over a 2012 story written by Santos which raised questions about his links to former chief justice Renato Corona. (TIMELINE: Rappler's cyber libel case)

In a statement, the College Editors’ Guild of the Philippines (CEGP) condemned the verdict, citing that this cyber libel conviction adds to the number of cases of harassment, censorship, and threats among journalists under President Duterte’s administration. 

Manila Regional Trial Court Branch 46 Judge Rainelda Estacio-Montesa ruled that only Ressa and Santos are guilty of cyber libel charges, sentencing them to a minimum 6 months and 1 day up to a maximum of 6 years in jail. (READ: Rappler statement on cyber libel conviction: Failure of justice, failure of democracy)

An effort to silence critics

“It is evident from the actions of the current administration that there is a clear effort on stifling its critics and silencing dissent,” the Trinity University of Asia - Media and Communication Society said in a statement. 

Aside from the cyber libel case, Ressa faces 7 other charges, stemming from the mother case over the company's PDRs, which the Court of Appeals had ruled to be already cured.

For Polytechnic University of the Philippines (PUP)’s The Catalyst, these attempts to stifle dissent and critical reportage “became very crucial, recognizing also this exact period of time when the thin line that separates the power of the judiciary, legislative, and executive, is no longer visible.”

“The conviction of Rappler's journalists is the narrative of the critical independent media who have been constantly victimized by the State’s desperation to cripple the limbs of democracy,” The Catalyst said in a statement.  

It added how these attempts to silence the press aren’t new but manifested in the long-standing case of alternative media outfits being a constant target of red-tagging, harassment, and unlawful apprehension, the politically-motivated killings of community journalists, and the infiltration of chilling effect to other media giants.

Authoritarian regime on the way?

For the University of the Philippines Broadcasting Association, this move against the media is an attack to Rappler’s right, as a press, to be one of the government’s watchdogs.

Over a month after the shutdown of media giant ABS-CBN, the group said that “this guilty verdict is a clear move to, once again, silence institutions that report on the truth."

The Communicator supported this statement, noting how the verdict made it visible that an authoritarian regime will soon reach a full blow. 

“It's visible that we are gearing towards an authoritarian regime under Duterte where journalists, critics, and dissenters left and right are being persecuted for voicing their dismay against the mishaps of the government,” the group said. 

A 'dangerous' precedent 

Tinig ng Plaridel (TNP) also pointed out that the decision set a dangerous precedent for all journalists who were critical of the government. 

“This merely opens the floodgates for more possible cyber libel charges to be filed against other journalists. With this, the chilling message that this administration wants to send resonates loud and clear: that journalists would do better to toe the line than hold it,” TNP said in a statement. 

It also called on the judiciary to “uphold its independence as arbiters of the law.” 

“We demand that the courts uphold the freedom of the press and recognize these trumped up charges for what they are: attempts to silence President Duterte's perceived enemies,” it said. 

TNP, moreover, vows to stand in solidarity with the media. “We vow to stand our ground against all forms of censorship. For a free and liberating press will always be at the service of the masses, and not the authority,” it said. 

An attack to all

Akbayan Youth also reiterated that the verdict doesn’t just affect journalists but ordinary Filipino citizens as well. 

“The decision on this case affects all of us. The "retroactivity clause" effectively vested by this verdict on the Cybercrime law can be weaponized against ordinary citizens. Any posts published online before the law was enacted in 2012 can become the basis of a libel case,” Akbayan Youth stressed.

“Now, whenever the powerful dislikes a story from a journalist, they can always scour from old stories and file charges, as they did with Rappler,” it continued. 

Despite all these attacks, CEGP urged other campus journalists to not crouch in fear and called on the Filipino people to fight as a growing resistance against “Duterte's tyrannical rule.”

"But the alliance of campus press shall always fight back. We are not afraid. Together, we will hold the line," CEGP national president Daryl Angelo Baybado said.

Many other organizations and student groups shared their statement of support:

YouthResist

 

 

Student Council Alliance of the Philippines

 

 

ThePILLARS Publication

 

 

UP ALYANSA

 

Akbayan Youth - Cebu

 

UP Diliman University Student Council

 

 

Amarela PH

 

 

– Rappler.com

[OPINION] Studying in the U.S. in the middle of a pandemic

$
0
0

When I applied for Fulbright’s Hubert H. Humphrey Fellowship in Finance and Banking, a fully-funded program of non-degree academic study and related professional experiences in the USA, I did not expect that I would get a unique learning experience.  

I was not new to studying abroad, having finished my Master of Corporate Law in Cambridge University in the United Kingdom as a Chevening scholar. However, the education I received this time around was different. 

Ironically, I thank the coronavirus for that. 

I arrived in Boston, Massachusetts in August 2019 and, together with 12 other fellows from a dozen different countries, since then busied myself attending various finance and law classes and seminars in the best US universities, such as Harvard, MIT, and Boston University, and meeting global leaders and professionals in various conferences such as the IMF-World Bank Annual Meetings in Washington, DC in order to  beef up my skills as a policy officer in the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas and to hone my leadership skills in the finance sector. I originally set the focus of my fellowship on financial regulation of fintech and financial innovation, the two things that have been disrupting the banking system around the world. But COVID-19 elevated and expanded the scope of my education. 

Staying in the US during the Great Lockdown when it was the epicenter of the pandemic was not the most pleasant of experiences, but the positive side greatly outweighed the negative part. It was the best time for a foreign student to experience American culture and for a foreign central banker to study and experience central banking in the USA.

Around me, panic, confusion, and uncertainty were palpable, especially in the beginning. It did not help that Massachusetts was among the first states to record a COVID-19 “superspreading event” through the Biogen conference in late February. There was the bizarre panic buying of toilet paper, on top of food staples and disinfectants. “Medical essentials” such as alcohol, hand sanitizer, vitamin C, masks, and thermometers were scarce. As nonessential businesses closed in late March, a lot of people including many of my working student classmates lost their jobs or were furloughed. (READ: U.S. workers face unequal future when virus recedes)

MY PRECIOUS. A woman shows rolls of much-coveted toilet paper. Photo by Tanya Recalde

It was serendipitous that I was taking a class on Financial Crises when the pandemic broke out. As soon as the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 as a global pandemic, and Massachusetts declared a state of emergency, universities in Boston stopped in-person instruction and all classes moved online. Students who were on spring break suddenly found themselves unable to return to their school accommodations. I ended up glued to the news on a daily basis, monitoring the extraordinary actions that the Federal Reserve (as well as the IMF and World Bank based in Washington, DC) was doing to contain the negative economic effects of the virus and discussing them in detail over our weekly Zoom classes. If I was not analyzing the Fed’s actions, I was living in them. As I walked outside to buy my necessities, I found myself identifying establishments which could apply for the Fed’s Main Street Lending Program or the Paycheck Protection Program Liquidity Facility. If I was not concentrating on the Fed, I was closely monitoring the actions of the major central banks around the world and the BSP.  

As I plunged into this rabbit hole of learning, all my dots suddenly connected. The banking laws and regulations of the USA, UK, and the Philippines that I studied by heart suddenly became handy and helpful in dissecting the actions of financial regulators around the world. This period also gave me a chance to revisit my other degree, which is economics, and to review monetary policy in order to round up my “full” central banking education. (READ: U, V, W or L? The alphabet soup of economic recovery scenarios)

I spent the time – freed up by not being required to prepare and travel for classes, meetings, and conferences – writing a law book on credit and bankruptcy and observing everything around me. The pandemic exposed many aspects of US society that was not evident in ordinary times, such as the bigger proportion of immigrants doing “essential” work, the higher vulnerability of colored people to have severe infection, the huge number of Americans living paycheck to paycheck and the double of whammy of losing a job and the medical insurance connected to it, the difficulty of sourcing imported goods at a short amount of time such as masks from China, and the preference of society to shift to cashless, digital finance. (READ: Rappler Talk: How Filipinos abroad are dealing with coronavirus)

The lockdown in Boston was not as strict as in the Philippines. People were still able to move around freely, and public transportation was available. But many followed the government’s advice to restrict nonessential travel and the trains and buses ran almost empty. Masks were not required in the beginning, but as the number of infections rose, stores required shoppers to wear a face covering. By May, masks began to be required in public areas. While there was no local government “ayuda” distributed per household unlike here, many primary schools turned into food banks and gave out food packs and essential items daily to their students’ families.

EMPTY. Supermarket shelves are wiped out. Photo by Tanya Recalde

I spent a month and a half in Boston during the pandemic. During this time, I saw the resilience, hospitality, and community spirit of American people. Professors who are advanced in age were able to easily learn and use online teaching tools. Young people volunteered to run errands and do grocery shopping for the elderly and vulnerable. Many sewed masks to give away to those without. A lot of people made it a point to buy from small businesses to keep these establishments alive. In my fellowship, our host institution let us stay in our accommodation and provided needed support to help us finish our program. Our host families regularly checked up on us and volunteered to provide assistance, such as a ride to the airport, in times of need. 

COVID-19 might have disrupted my otherwise carefully planned program, but by providing me with a distinctive view of American ethos learned alongside academic and professional endeavors, it provided me with a once-in-a lifetime, truly enriching, and entirely transformative educational experience. – Rappler.com

Marie Tanya Z. Recalde is a lawyer and economist from the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas. She is an awardee of the Chevening, Fulbright, and Cambridge Trust scholarships, 3 of the most prestigious scholarships in the world.

Dissent through art in the time of media clampdown

$
0
0

MANILA, Philippines – Filipino artists expressed their dissent over the cyber libel conviction of Rappler CEO and executive editor Maria Ressa and former Rappler researcher-writer Reynaldo Santos Jr through their creative artworks.

On Monday, June 15, the Manila Regional Trial Court Branch 46 convicted the journalists of cyber libel in a case filed by businessman Wilfredo Keng in 2017.

Following the conviction, many artists made digital artworks of Maria Ressa featuring a favorite quote or slogan. Some of the artworks showed Ressa's mouth taped shut, a metaphor for the silencing of critical dissenters and the press.

 

Ressa and Santos' conviction was seen by many as a threat to freedom of expression, one of the tenets of the Philippine Constitution and democracy. 

One of Ressa's most quoted lines from A Thousand Cuts – a documentary that followed press freedom under the Duterte administration – was used in the artworks as inspiration. In the documentary, Ressa talked about the death of the nation by "a thousand cuts" – the little cuts that weaken dissent.

 

Freelance journalist Aie Balagtas See and her 13-year-old sister, meanwhile, produced "statement masks" with the words "Stand with Rappler."

These masks were produced under their initiative, Project Busal, which aims to express the common sentiments of Filipinos amid the current political climate and the coronavirus pandemic. 

See said in a Facebook post: "The name is a play on words. Busal is Tagalog for gag and stifle, mask is another term for hide, while unmasking means uncovering and exposing."

 Rappler.com 

Guilty verdict proves gov’t could exhaust resources to attack critics, schools say

$
0
0

MANILA, Philippines – Academic institutions showed solidarity and pointed out how the verdict is more than just about the conviction of Rappler CEO and Executive Editor Maria Ressa and former Rappler researcher-writer Reynaldo Santos Jr. 

Manila Regional Trial Court Branch 46 Judge Rainelda Estacio-Montesa ruled Ressa and Santos guilty of cyber libel charges on Monday, June 15.

The cyber libel case stemmed from Santos’ May 2012 article on the late former chief justice Renato Corona's links to businessmen, including Wilfredo Keng, who disputed parts of the article that quoted an intelligence report linking him to drugs and human trafficking. (TIMELINE: Rappler's cyber libel case)

For the University of the Philippines College of Mass Communication (UP-CMC), the guilty verdict is not just an attack against all journalists, but against all Filipinos on social media exposing the corruption and wrongdoing of public officials online.

A threat to all 

“This is not a threat to media alone. More important, it is a bladed weapon poised to cut and bleed out any journalist, any writer, or any Filipino social media user, who posts criticisms of public acts of corruption and incompetence on the internet,” UP-CMC said in a statement. 

Although the article was published in 2012, Keng only filed a complaint in 2017, beyond the one-year prescription period for libel under the Revised Penal Code. The article in question was also published 4 months before the enactment of the cybercrime law in September 2012, sparking questions about retroactivity.

UP CMC said that “the judge’s decision, if not corrected by the Supreme Court, has – in one fell swoop – eliminated the one-year prescriptive period of libel and created a new, strange abomination: the theory of 'continuing publication.'”

“The State can prosecute even after 10, 12, or more years after publication or posting. It is a concept of eternal threat of punishment without any limit in time and cyberspace,” it continued. 

The Department of Justice had used the theory of republication to justify the article’s coverage in the cybercrime law after Rappler corrected a typographical error on February 19, 2014, belatedly spotting the misspelled "evation" and changing it to "evasion."

An attack to destroy accountability 

In a joint statement of the Departments of Communication and Political Science of the Ateneo de Manila University-Loyola Schools, the guilty verdict is another blow by the Duterte administration to dismantle the checks and balances of a democratic society. 

It’s been more than a month since the ABS-CBN shutdown. Both departments said the guilty verdict on Ressa and Santos is part of the government’s “long-standing, concerted effort to go after its most ardent and public critics.”

“This sends a chilling message to all our citizens: the Duterte administration offers no safe harbor for those who criticize it,” it said in a statement. 

Misplaced resources? 

They also lambasted the government for going after groups and institutions critical of the government instead of just focusing its efforts on combating COVID-19 and responding to the economic hardships brought about by the pandemic. 

It seems to us that the current administration is most animated and proactive when looking for ways to intimidate and silence critics, while it seems so inept and reactive when Filipinos demand efficient and pro-people solutions to the current pandemic crisis,” it stressed. 

If the government can exhaust its resources to silence known personalities and institutions in the media, both Ateneo departments expressed its worry over ordinary Filipino citizens who voice out their dissent online. 

It added that accountability would not be possible without a free press and active citizenry and highlighted the importance of journalism to the country’s democracy

“As educators, we cannot allow ourselves to be mere spectators to the injustices that are unfolding right before our very eyes. This verdict, together with the myriad issues that this government has brought upon the Filipino people, strengthens our commitment to the formation of ethical, critical, and competent students,” it said. 

Meanwhile, various youth groups and student organizations also slammed the guilty verdict and expressed their support for Ressa and Santos.– Rappler.com

Address terrorism but not at expense of human rights, Cebu City SK urges

$
0
0

CEBU CITY, Philippines – The Sangguniang Kabataan Federation of Cebu City closed ranks to oppose the anti-terrorism bill, using its platform to warn of the heavy implications the measure will have on the liberties of citizens and youth.

In a resolution passed during a general assembly on Sunday, June 14, the Sangguniang Kabataan (SK) Federation of Cebu City expressed the need to address terrorism but “not at the expense of upholding the constitutional rights of the people.”

The SK warned that the provisions in the congressionally-approved bill are vague and susceptible to abuse. (READ: EXPLAINER: Comparing dangers in old law and anti-terror bill)

They highlighted how the definition of terrorism in the bill is so broad and ambiguous that “even legitimate forms of dissent which are within the purview of the exercise of constitutionally guaranteed rights may be construed as an act of ‘terrorism.’”

The SK members also noted other provisions which may be prone to multiple interpretations and application, including the creation of an Anti-Terrorism Council that can identify who are terrorist individuals based on probable cause.

They added that addressing terrorism will always be appreciated so long as the provisions truly protect the people.

“There is nothing problematic in crafting and passing a law addressing the problem of terrorism, but it is problematic when the law so passed contains provisions (that are) vague, vulnerable to abuse, and... potentially endanger the constitutionally guaranteed rights of the people,” the SK said.

The SK members also found a point of concern in that the bill was pushed as the country struggles to contain the coronavirus pandemic.

“The efforts of Congress, at present, should be best invested in efforts to fight the war against the unseen enemy that is COVID-19 and push for national recovery,” they said.

With their SK President Jessica Resch at the helm, the Sangguniang Kabataan Federation of Cebu City Local Executive Committee showed their clear opposition to the anti-terror bill.

“The danger alarmed me because this bill, if turned into law, could victimize anyone, youth or not,“ added Hon. Christine Claire Bontuyan, the original author of the SK resolution.

“The stand against the ATB (anti-terror bill) is greatly attributed to the problematic provisions contained therein that conflict with constitutional provisions, and not a stand against the government's attempt to pass a law addressing terrorism in general,” she emphasized.

 

A number of Filipinos and law practitioners shared similar concerns, saying the measure was done as a means for the administration to silence dissent. (READ:University of Cebu Law School latest to join calls vs anti-terror bill)

Activists have called for a humanitarian course of action and continue to seek methods to push President Rodrigo Duterte to veto the bill before it is too late.

To amplify their stand, Sangguniang Kabataan Federation of Cebu City furnished a copy of their resolution to the National Youth Commission, the 15th Sangguniang Panglungsod of Cebu City, the Office of Congressman Raul Del Mar, the Office of Congressman Bebot Abellanosa, the House of Representatives of the Philippines, and the Senate of the Philippines for their perusal. – Rappler.com


[OPINION] Do I have to label myself to have an identity?

$
0
0

The abundance of labels used to confuse me. I thought that the rainbow pride flag was inclusive enough: the multiple colors were supposed to represent the variety of sexual orientations and gender expressions. There seemed to me no need to have other flags or terms aside from the 4 letters we already had. L, G, B, and T might already have encompassed all available variations. It appeared to be merely common sense to be “demisexual” — after all, don’t people really have sexual attraction with someone after they’ve had some kind of emotional connection? It also makes sense for someone to be naturally “sapiosexual” — after all, we only like people who are on the same wavelength as us. Asexuality is itself a spectrum: from “iamvanosexual” to “lithosexual” and “fraysexual.” And honestly, what is the point of differentiating “polysexual” from “pansexual?” All of it seemed to only add confusion to something straightforward.

So, I used to believe that there was no need for redundant terms or too many flags, but after attending a sensitivity training given by a group of gender advocates, I was convinced to look at it in another way. They asked me to consider that there are people are only discovering their sexualities now, and it is important that those people have a choice of terms to decide which was best to identify themselves with. These labels are handles for people to hold on to: they are valid and unique expressions of being human. Furthermore, these labels have helped raise awareness about social issues that plague particular groups of people: labels make complex issues easier to categorize and comprehend. This is also why I now think that the different flags are useful. Communities that have long been invisible, like the bisexual community, need a symbol that says, “I am here, and I have the right to be noticed!” (READ: [PODCAST] I've Got An Opinion: Bisexuals are super misunderstood)

But one night I was talking to a friend who worked with vulnerable communities, and she exposed another angle to this issue. She said, “Having multiple micro-labels is definitely a class-related thing. You don’t hear someone living in the poverty using ‘demisexual’ to refer to themselves, do you?”

I never thought about it that way. The abundance of the more niche labels seems to be for people with the privilege to choose what they want to be, people who have the time to figure out where they fall on the spectrum. Most people don’t have the time to decide whether they are anything. In the face of hunger and economic instability, making a big deal about labels seems to be the least of their worries. Besides, we already have convenient, widely-used colloquial terms that better describe local expressions of sexuality. The term “halaman” for example, which might as well be an offensively rough translation of “asexual,” is easier to use. People know what it means: “halaman” refers to someone who, like a plant, is not attracted to anyone and doesn’t see themselves in a relationship with another human being. Also, there are better representations of bisexuality — or more accurately, bi-curiosity — using local terms: the term “patola,” for example, refers to “straight” men who, once in a while, engage in homosexual activities. It is, however, a problematic word, as it implies that the activity is a favor to someone beneath them. But that is a discussion for another time. All labels carry baggage that some people would just rather not associate with, and though this may sometimes be a sign of hesitance to embrace struggle, it could also be seen as an assertion of one’s agency, or capacity to make choices. (READ: [OPINION] Who is afraid to mess with the 'bakla?')

All that being said, I admit I’m not an expert in any of this. These are only amateur observations of culture, not serious academic theories. I do understand, however, that context matters, and in the case of labels, it is important to use the language that the person understands. I myself struggle to find the term that best describes me. I’ve long accepted that I’m not absolutely straight. Though many people have closed their minds, or are repulsed by the idea, I feel like we all should leave room for some curiosity. One can, after all, find beauty in anyone — not everyone, though, as we do have our preferences, usually shaped by our childhood. (That, again, is a discussion for another time.)

I’ve been affectionate with people of all genders: I suppose that’s just the way I was raised. I currently have a girlfriend but I have expressed the same romantic tenderness towards guys. This, I think is natural. It’s easy to like people who like you too, especially when you find them cute. Also, some people won’t like this, but I fully relate to the statement, “I like you as a person; you just happen to be born a certain way.” I guess nobody can tell me I’m wrong here, because that’s how I feel: and since we’re all just finding a handle to hold on to as we figure out who we are, we must be open to the idea that a person’s journey towards self-understanding may be different from another person’s. 

To some people, labels are important. I understand why there are so many labels people can choose from, and I understand why some terms come easier because of socialization. I also understand that other people prefer not to label themselves and merely enjoy the formlessness of human expression: we are one thing one day, and another the next. We like people as they are; they just happen to be born a certain way. No doubt some people will find it easy to label what I am, and surely that depends on their context, but I would honestly prefer that they do not presume to understand me. I don’t fully understand myself either, so how could they? Besides, do I have to label myself to have an identity? – Rappler.com 

Carl Cervantes is grad student who makes zines. He posts his art on Instagram and his other essays on Medium.

[OPINION] Health inequity: The real health issue in our coronavirus response

$
0
0

Sifting through the news, we’ve read or heard that the coronavirus is the great equalizer — that it doesn’t discriminate which person it will infect in terms of income level, employment status, level of education, gender, and ethnicity. 

This fact was recently given a human face with the death of Michelle Silvertino, a 33-year old Antipolo-based househelp and single mother of 4 from Bicol, who walked for kilometers and waited for a bus to the province just to be with her children. The bus never came because of quarantine restrictions, and her long wait led to her demise. 

Her lifeless body slumped on a footbridge along a major thoroughfare in Metro Manila was a sorry sight, rife with speculations that she could have died of hunger, heat exhaustion, or even humiliation. Her death certificate showed she was a suspected COVID-19 case and medical history revealed she had a long-standing lung infection, which could be the reason for her being rejected for work overseas. (READ: DSWD cash aid comes after Michelle Silvertino dies)

We know that COVID-19 has a propensity to affect more the vulnerable among the population in terms of age, pre-existing diseases, and other health conditions. This is the rationale for all the health policies and protocols to prioritize and protect them. This should have been the case for Michelle. She was vulnerable in every medical sense of the word. But her vulnerability goes deeper than this.

Hindi natin mauunawaan kung hindi natin napagdadaanan 

The medical vulnerability perspective is skewed, if not unfair. In countries the world over, especially in low-income countries like the Philippines, those already poor and marginalized before COVID-19 are bearing the brunt of the pandemic.

COVID-19 doesn’t get more discriminating than this.

It should not be surprising to see some evidence that the poor and marginalized have increased rates of infection and mortality from COVID-19 because of myriad social factors that further widen health disparities. Amid uneven access to health care and dismal health outcomes lies the issue of health inequity – arguably the real issue that must be dealt with in our coronavirus response.

As we have been hardened by sad realities, it is always tragic events that grab our selective attention. A social autopsy of the Michelle Silvertino case could help us dissect the following factors impacting health, as they determine the appalling vulnerability of the poor and marginalized in the midst of this pandemic:

Spaces/environmental factors

The poor have housing conditions characterized by cramped spaces, so overcrowding and poor ventilation are realities of everyday existence. Also, with limited outdoor space and a dense population to reckon with in their immediate environment, physical distancing is not an option. In the narrowest alleys and most decrepit places of urban blight, exposure to air pollution, noise, and even waste matter is common.

Violence, abuse, and criminality could also be rampant social ills in these quarters, which can further aggravate stressful quarantine conditions.

When they go around, the poor are reliant on public mass transport. In terms of traveling on their own, bicycles and motorcycles are the only viable but unsafe alternatives, considering unfriendly road conditions. Walking is a last-resort ordeal they are willing to undergo just to do essential activities like making a living.

Occupational conditions

Househelp, construction workers, itinerant vendors, mall employees, janitors and security guards all have work that can’t be done in the convenience of home. Most of them are not regular employees and are always on the brink of termination. They don’t have leave privileges; some don’t even have benefits. Some are lured to work in metropolitan areas and overseas to earn more, but choose to brave far worse labor conditions back home. They work themselves to death while taking home a meager income. (READ: 'Walang-wala na': Poor Filipinos fear death from hunger more than coronavirus)

Health-seeking behavior

Chief among the reasons for poor health-seeking behavior is not having enough financial means to pay for health care. The value of prevention over cure could unknowingly be wasted because of this. The poor would often seek health care with diseases that are already advanced in stage and fraught with complications and catastrophic health expenses. Low educational attainment and lack of access to information could also contribute. This can be compounded by the growing fear of having COVID-19 and the lack of means to survive it.

Access to health services and amenities

Since most are not formally employed and have low income, even with social health insurance, the poor can ill afford to be hospitalized. Out-of-pocket expenses to be treated and operated on could send a poor family to a more impoverished state. In geographically isolated areas, getting to a health facility that’s appropriate for a patient’s condition may mean moving mountains and walking on oceans. Telehealth and medicine is a good option but access to internet infrastructure and equipment may be limited. The cost of food and essential commodities, face masks, alcohol, and basic hygiene essentials, let alone maintenance medications to treat chronic diseases, can be prohibitive to the poor.

Other poverty-associated diseases like tuberculosis, hypertension, and diabetes can co-exist with and exacerbate COVID-19, making medical management more complicated and expensive.

Balanced and compassionate response to COVID-19

Regardless of the income level and health system capacities of pandemic-affected localities, under lockdown or not, the plight of the most vulnerable — the poor and marginalized — should be topmost priority. 

This can be done by making the response more balanced. It should offer both medical and socioeconomic solutions. Lives cannot be saved from the coronavirus if basic issues of daily living are neglected.

Medically, strategies don’t only need to be done just for the sake of doing them. They need to also consider inclusion, quality of care, and responsiveness. Being poor and marginalized doesn’t make people less of a patient. Instead, they should be triaged as the most important patient for the health sector’s prevention, testing, isolation, and treatment services. (READ: [ANALYSIS] Universal healthcare: Why we’re still not quite there yet)

In socioeconomic terms, they should be first on the list of beneficiaries for the government’s programs for labor and employment, social amelioration, and basic infrastructure and services (housing, transport, communications, education).

Lastly, as COVID-19 cases are steadily increasing and our health care system is slowly being stretched, a call for the dying art of compassion is necessary. Pursuing health inequity as an issue is one. Shifting our mindset from thinking beyond ourselves, our individual privileges, our personal COVID-19 risks to putting the good of the majority — the poor and marginalized – first and foremost is another.

Motivated by compassion, our coronavirus response can provide some sanity in these strange times and lend some fairness in this unfair world. – Rappler.com

Ronald Law is a physician, public health specialist in emergency and disaster management, and professor of public health. He was formerly an Australian leadership fellow and a US-ASEAN Fulbright scholar.

Meet Joseph Dante, Manila's street barber

$
0
0

STREET BARBER. Joseph Dante, 44, is seen cutting the hair of one of his clients along Kalaw Avenue in Manila on June 9, 2020. Photo by Dante Diosina Jr/Rappler

 

MANILA, Philippines – To make ends meet, 44-year-old Joseph Dante goes around the streets of Manila, looking for potential customers. His service? On-the-spot haircuts.

He calls himself “barbero sa bangketa (sidewalk barber).” 

After President Rodrigo Duterte ordered the lockdown in Luzon due to the coronavirus pandemic, Dante lost income as a construction worker in San Juan City, and relied only on people’s generosity for financial or food aid. The strict quarantine measures made it all the more difficult for people like Dante to find means to earn.

“Mahirap kasi hindi ka makagalaw. Buti nga ngayon medyo nakakakilos na kami. Dati kahit sa’n ka pumunta, talagang may checkpoint (It’s hard because you couldn’t move. At least now we can move more easily. Before, there would be a checkpoint everywhere you go),” he recalled.

As lockdown restrictions eased, Dante found a new way to make a living. The growing demand for access to barbershops opened an opportunity for him.

Barbering, which used to be only a side hustle, has now become his main source of income.

With a barber’s gown, a chair, and barbering materials and equipment, Dante’s mobile barbershop is all set.

MOBILE BARBERSHOP. Joseph Dante working on a sidewalk in Mabini, Manila, on June 16, 2020. Photo by Dante Diosina Jr/Rappler

For P30, anyone who wants to get a quick haircut can avail of Dante’s services. Some generous security guards even gave him P50 for their haircut, he said.

Dante is now known in the area along Kalaw Avenue, where he’s mostly found. Before lockdown, when he only sidelined as a barber, he would get 6 customers on a good day. Now he gets at least 15 customers every day.

Dante's story made rounds on social media as Manila’s street barber. Marco Pascual, president of a barbershop chain called Bruno’s Barbers, found out about Dante through a Rappler post, and offered to extend help.

"Dante’s story was very moving and it was also very easy for us to take responsibility, albeit in our own little way to help him in his new profession," Pascual said.

The barbershop chain donated to Dante personal protective equipment (PPE) sets and barbering tools in support of the Department of Trade and Industry's guidelines for barbershops and salons.

Dante is among the 2.3 million Filipino workers affected by the coronavirus lockdown. Those in the services sector have been hit the hardest, many of them now jobless.

The Department of Labor and Employment announced in March that it would provide aid for workers, but many have yet to receive any help. (IN LIMBO: Workers tighten belts as gov't aid remains uncertain).– Rappler.com

[OPINION] Clinical clerkship: Being next in line in the pandemic

$
0
0

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I was swamped with books, case discussions, reports and examinations. We were only a week away from our quarterly examinations. There were only 3 more months until our final year in medical school.

On March 9, right after our first exam, it was announced that classes would be suspended for a week since the coronavirus cases were on the rise. That meant more time to study for the upcoming exams, more time to rest in between.

But then that March 9-15 suspension extended into a month-long suspension, the enhanced community quarantine, and the uncertainty of when we would go back to school. As a medical student, the “why’s” of choosing this career path always comes at random times. It’s always the usual, “Bakit ba ako nag-med? Sana nagtrabaho nalang ako!” (Why did I take up medicine? I should have just worked instead!).

These questions creep up in between exams, numerous textbooks, and reports, but I always return to my motivation, “To learn more about my patients, treat them, and do my best to restore them back to normal health.” This has always been my script whenever people ask me why I decided to become a doctor.

As an incoming clinical clerk (4th year is when we’re on hospital duty after our classroom education the first 3 years of medical school), I would have been excited and anxious. There was no better way to practice what I’ve learned in the classroom than by meeting patients and doing the rounds. It was my first step towards officially handling patients.

In the context of this pandemic, my friends and I talked about the possibility of being next in line. Initially, it was a hypothetical question that we even joked about. We felt we weren’t ready for the hospital, more so in the current conditions and with the risk of contracting the virus. We believed that it was close to impossible. But given the course of the pandemic, the situation of the healthcare system, and the frontliners, the question of being next in line turned into a thoughtful reminder: isn’t this what you signed up for in the first place? (READ: In their own words: Frontliners on their fears, hopes during the pandemic)

Entering medical school was already my “yes” to the unknown realm of diseases and cures. Had I known this pandemic would occur, would I still have pursued the 4 grueling years of medical school, only to be put on the front lines? Yes. These types of questions have only reminded me that in medicine, it is even possible to put your own life on the line just to save another life. While this statement seems harrowing, especially with the unknown virus everywhere, it is the hard truth I need to face in the career path I chose. But would I change my career path? No.

As an incoming clinical clerk without prior hospital experience and only equipped with theoretical knowledge, there is fear that I still lack the knowledge to practice in the hospital. But then again, with this novel coronavirus, it gives me comfort to know that everyone in the health profession, from us mere students to our most senior consultants and the whole medical team in between, are just trying to battle the unknown virus with what we already know. It is a continuous learning process. Each COVID-positive patient adds new information on ways to manage the disease. (READ: 9 rooms and a hallway)

These thoughts continue to come and go throughout my time in quarantine. At present, clerkship in the hospital remains uncertain. In the meantime, while compromises are being done in hospitals, adjustments online are in place as well. In the past few weeks, it was a struggle to study. I was still adjusting to lectures online, waking up to notifications for new reports and online examinations. Since I can’t physically share memories with my classmates for the time being, our struggle with sitting in front of a computer screen is all we have. The challenge of staying awake during lectures and cramming for examinations has shifted online, with glitches here and there (dogs or chickens in the background), an apology because one’s microphone was on mute, etc. This pandemic has brought medical school to my home, but with more time to think of the pressing questions and a deeper evaluation of the career path I chose.

The road to being a medical doctor is still a long one, with more years to come, but with this pandemic it seems closer than ever. In the meantime, I continue to hope that I see my classmates and professors again, and to hope for my future patients – as an incoming clinical clerk stuck at home behind her laptop screen. – Rappler.com

Gabriela Veronica C. Tuazon is an incoming 4th year medical student (clinical clerk) at the University of Sto. Tomas – Faculty of Medicine and Surgery.

[OPINION] When we're scared to share: Thoughts from an environmental advocate

$
0
0

Last June 3, 2020, the Anti-Terrorism Bill was passed by the House of Representatives. A few days later on June 9, Congress transmitted the bill to Malacañang despite calls to junk it.

To take the bill for what it is and what it seems to stand for, on regular cases, wouldn’t cause such an upheaval of dissent. It could’ve been a good bill hellbent to protect the Filipino people from terrorists, yet it’s a different story to read between its lines and in the context of this government. It’s not a secret that this administration turns to bloody solutions for the issues they face. Duterte’s Drug War with an estimated number of 27,000 killings, Duterte’s threats to murder those violating quarantine protocols, and again, Duterte himself personally admitting to killing at least 3 men in Davao where he served as mayor for over 22 years, are just testament to the answer they continue to honor. This is the kind of solution this government imposes— and it’s killing us. (READ: Still no 'meaningful accountability' over drug war killings under Duterte – Amnesty Int'l)

Drug pushers aren’t the only ones they red-tag as threats. The Philippines just last year replaced Brazil for the most dangerous country for land and environment defenders. This was due to the 48 murders in 2017 and the 30 others that happened in 2018. The country’s top botanist, Leanardo Co, fell victim to this. Reported by ABS-CBN, Co was gathering seedlings of endangered trees when he was caught in a crossfire between the military and suspected communist rebels. But there is belief that Co’s group was mistaken to be part of the rebel group, and the scenario was not a tragic event, but an inappropriate use of power due to mere and inefficient suspicion. He was killed together with Sofronio G. Cortez, a forest guard of the Energy Development Corporation (EDC), and Julius Borromeo, a local farmer who was the group's guide. 

Incidents like Co’s are not uncommon, and due to the government’s decision on this bill especially while the Philippines plummets deeper into the intricacies of a global pandemic, will continue to be familiar. We have to ask ourselves: why now? Why was it deemed urgent amid rising COVID-19 cases, amid unemployment, prioritized amid hunger? Why has it been left with vague definitions despite protests of not just activists, but lawyers, journalists, and institutions?  

I was scared after reading it. A team and I run operations of our own non-profit project where we raise funds to support vulnerable communities in rural areas and immediately saw the danger of the bill. In our fear, even when we know our actions aren’t wrong, we consulted lawyers and other organizations with the same concerns of being red-tagged. The main question was: we know we aren’t terrorists, so why were we afraid? The turmoil was succeeded learning non-state recognized organizations could fall into the wrong side of this bill as well. What a feat to this government, really. If the intent of this bill was to instill fear, it worked wonders. Not only are we scared to lose our freedom of speech, but we also feared losing our ability to help. 

To advocate for something like the environment, you are also speaking out about the interweb of other issues entangled with it. To fight for our oceans, you have to address our issue on poverty — because poverty is an environmental issue. 17% of our population of about 110 million live as the poorest in the country. How can you afford to be sustainable when you can barely afford food to eat? Numbers like these lead to about 163 million pieces of sachets thrown away everyday according to GAIA in January 2020, mostly landing in our water if not in our landfills. (READ: #EarthDay2020: PH facing its 'worst ecological crisis' – IBON Foundation)

And we have to remember, they’re not just numbers. These are real people, with real hunger, living through a global pandemic, surviving as the poorest in our country. When you speak about the ocean, you speak about the oceans of people who need help as well. To fight for the forest, you have to address deforestation due to mining, logging, and agriculture that have cleared over 1,118,788 hectares of forest.

You have to learn why communities turn to logging their lands, and why farmers are poor. You have to ask why the people putting food on our plates barely have any on theirs. When you advocate for the environment, you have to advocate for the people that depend on nature, advocate for the millions of animals losing their homes, and you have to know why it’s happening in the first place. We have to question the people with the power to make a difference.

When we advocate for the environment, we are advocating for the vulnerable communities, we advocate to halt hunger, uplift the impoverished, and truly, we advocate for justice. 

The vagueness of this bill has and will continue to ring alarm bells for advocates no matter the field. It has already made us question if what we continue to shed light on will put us on the radar. If we continue to speak out for our partner communities, continue to fundraise, continue to shed light on the inadequacy of this government, if we continue to dissent on its actions and its consequences, what will be of us? They were already able to red-tag us without the bill, how much more so if it's passed?

If the intent of this bill was to silence us, we cannot let them succeed. We have to be loud about what is right, we cannot waiver, we cannot let our fear deter us from our work. When we are scared to share, afraid to continue operations to help those who need it, we lose more than just the opportunity to. We lose the chance to make things better when we can. 

And losing is not an option. Not at a time like this. – Rappler.com

Issa Barte is a digital artist and the founder of Fund The Forest. Email her at louissabarte@gmail.com, or visit her IG: issabarte.art/fundtheforest.ph.

Viewing all 3259 articles
Browse latest View live




Latest Images