Survival has never come easily for the Kalinga and Bontoc peoples of the northern Philippines. The Bontoc-Kalinga villages are sprinkled along steep hillsides cut into the northern Cordillere by the wild Chico River. Snatching bounty from adversity, these tribal people have transformed the mountain slopes into remarkable terraces of flourishing, irrigated rice. Working with simple hand implements, a farmer here invests years in leveling and stone-walling a one-hectare field.
Today, several hundred years since these tribes moved into the mountains, vast curvatures of the stepped hillsides radiate a luminous green of growing rice. The irrigation system for these fields--supported by many kilometers of hand-hewn ditches, hollow bamboo pipes, dikes, and simple stone obstruction "gates"--stands as a wonder in hydraulics engineering.
Awe. It is the inevitable response of a visitor driving the narrow mountain roads through this rice-terrace country. Rarely has humankind succeeded so dramatically in beautifying nature.
Some societies have exploited tremendous human resources for monuments symbolizing death, such as the Egyptian pyramids or modern nuclear bombs. In contrast, the rice-terrace cultures of the Philippines inspire the world with their living monument to the ability of human beings to provide life under extremely arduous conditions.
But today the Bontocs and Kalingas face an unprecedented threat. If government plans prevail, many Kalinga and Bontoc settlements and rice terraces will be flooded to create the reservoirs of huge dams on the Chico River.
In its drive for industrialization, the Philippine government is caught in the worldwide preoccupation with energy supply. Its energy planners have long eyed the Chico River for its hydroelectric potential. The government's National Power Corporation (NPC) has projected four dams for the Chico which they say will be capable of generating 1,000 megawatts of electricity, a significant share of the demand for the island of Luzon. The World Bank is slated to fund the Chico River dams.
The majority of Bontocs and Kalingas, after much discussion and deliberation, have resolutely opposed the dams. The local rice-terrace cultures see it as a question of survival. The government views it as a question of progress.
Interviewed recently in Manila, an NPC engineer acknowledged that there has been some resistance to the dams from the local people. "They have a superstitious attachment to their land," he said. But he claimed that the dams--all four of them--would eventually have to be built.
"It is a matter of whether the Philippines is going to remain underdeveloped or whether we're going to modernize." And referring to the precedent of his interviewer's country, the engineer said, "You must understand. We're trying to duplicate how the West was won."
It is precisely to avoid the fate of the natives of the American West that the Kalinga and Bontoc people say they are opposing the dams today. Were the dams to be built, many thousands of Kalinga and Bontoc people would have to be relocated. To be torn away from their environment would, they maintain, cause a spiritual and economic disintegration tantamount to physical annihilation.
Predictably, the Kalinga villages doomed to be flooded have mounted the greatest resistance to the dam projects. One such village is Bugnay, a settlement of some 650 people. In the recent past, its leading village chieftain or pangat was Macli-ing Dulag.
A muscular, articulate man in his 50s, Macli-ing had earned the respect of the surrounding communities, especially by maintaining an elaborate peace pact system which keeps these erstwhile head-hunting villages on speaking terms. Foes and supporters alike testify to the moral authority Macli-ing commanded when he spoke.
In recent years Macli-ing had emerged as the leading spokesperson against the Chico River dams. In this capacity he became an obstacle to the government's push for "progress."
Initial government plans for the Chico dams had been made more than a decade ago without close consultation with the local people who would be affected by the flooding. But when the National Power Corporation tried to begin drilling at the dam sites, in 1974, it was met by groups of tribal women who moved in and dismantled the NPC camps while the tribe's men stood guard behind them with bolo knives.
Realizing then that the government would have to persuade local leaders to support the dams, President Marcos sent in aides of the Presidential Assistant on National Minorities (PANAMIN). A few local Kalinga leaders, upon the receipt of some "incentives," signed on for the dams. This was seen by many Kalingas as an attempt to divide and conquer.
Chieftain Macli-ing was also approached on various occasions, but he was unwavering in his opposition to the dams. Once when he was handed an envelope by the head of PANAMIN, Macli-ing reportedly refused to accept it with the reply, "An envelope could contain either a letter or money. Since I am illiterate, it is hardly a letter. As for money, money is given to someone who has something to sell. I have nothing to sell."
While the government finally bowed to the united opposition of the Bontoc people by shelving plans for the two upstream dams, Chico I and Chico II, the two dams downstream in the Kalinga area were still scheduled for construction. PANAMIN efforts were bolstered in 1976 by the arrival of the 60th Philippine Constabulary (PC) Battalion. The presence of the military increased the tension in the region and the threat of serious violence mounted. When the Kalingas sent a delegation to Manila asking that the dam projects be abandoned, Marcos refused to meet them.
About that time cadres of the communist New People's Army (NPA) appeared and quietly offered support to the beleaguered Kalingas. Initially chary of outside forces, many of the Kalingas eventually decided the NPA would be helpful in their fight against the dam.
In the succeeding years reports of abuses by the PC battalion and ambushes of the PC by the New People's Army became commonplace. Meanwhile the Kalingas continued their largely nonviolent resistance to the dams by boycotting a martial law referendum, by sending petitions to President Marcos, and by dismantling the military camp of the constabulary.
On one occasion in 1978, Chieftain Macli-ing attended a government-sponsored meeting on the dams; he was stabbed and nearly killed. Although the stabbing could not be definitely attributed to the government, the encounter delivered a fatal blow to any confidence Macli-ing felt toward the government.
The record of the 60th PC Battalion and its successor in Kalinga country, the 51st PC, became so abuse-laden that both were replaced by the 44th Battalion of the Philippine army in the fall of 1979.
Meanwhile, the test drilling of the National Power Corporation has continued at "Chico IV," the dam site farthest downstream, although no actual construction has yet begun. The cost has been high. The NPA guerrillas have staged successful ambushes against the army and NPC workers. At least seven NPC engineers have been killed to date, and the dam site has become an armed camp.
On February 13, 1980, two men from Macli-ing's village were arrested and allegedly beaten by the military on charges of having stolen an M-203 rifle-grenade launcher from a nearby army detachment. Chieftain Macli-ing appealed to his villagers to find the weapon. Clandestinely, a map detailing the weapon's location was left at Macli-ing's door one night, and he subsequently led the military men to the weapon in a field.
The two accused men were then released, whereupon they filed charges against the military personnel who had beaten them. On February 27 the New People's Army staged an ambush along the highway several villages north of Bugnay village. Five soldiers were killed.
On April 14 about 50 fully armed soldiers entered Bugnay and ordered the people--mostly the elderly, women, and children since the men were out in the fields--to gather in an open area. The troops conducted a house to house search, reportedly taking heirloom beads and other valuables. Finally they set fire to a rice granary saying, "These are being used as shelters by the NPA." The officer in charge reportedly told the people that if the soldiers were to return, "blood will flow."
Ten days later, on the night of April 24, uniformed men sneaked into Bugnay village and banged on the door of Pedro Dungok, one of the two men accused of stealing the rifle-grenade launcher. After Dungok's wife opened the door, the men shot repeatedly toward the bed on the floor and fled. Pedro, hidden under a blanket, was struck only in the arm.
At the same time, other gunmen,went to the house of Chieftain Macli-ing. They pounded open the door of the dark house. Macli-ing appealed to the men outside to return in the morning if they had matters to discuss. He arose to try to relock the door, whereupon the men outside fired 13 shots through the door.
When I visited the village two weeks later, I saw the bullet holes and the splash of blood on the door. Macli-ing's simple grave was in the courtyard outside his house.
The villagers of Bugnay hold members of the 44th Army Battalion responsible for the death of their leader. Church and community people in the region have been outraged. Catholic Bishop William Brasseur condemned "the brutal and inhuman behavior of some soldiers." After more than three months, the government finally responded by ordering the arrest of an army officer and three soldiers.
When I visited Bugnay the Kalinga tribesmen still had not sought revenge, although their tribal tradition strongly calls for the avenging of the blood of a fallen comrade. For the moment at least, they had curbed eye-for-eye instincts and were searching for effective measures to advance the struggle Macli-ing had inspired against the dams. If the dams could finally be stopped, they implied, that would perhaps suffice to avenge Macli-ing's death.
The Kalinga are committed to continue the struggle against the dam. "If we give in, we will die all the same," said one Bugnay elder. "The opposition to the dam will not die with Macli-ing."
Earl Martin, a Sojourners correspondent, was working in the Philippines on a service assignment with Mennonite Central Committee when this article appeared.

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