PARCHED, cracked and plague-ridden, the land hardly yielded anything in a small barangay within the vast plains of Central Luzon. It no longer obeyed the wishes of the hard-toiled hands that have tilled it.
Francisco Delfin had high hopes for the life that waited for him in the province. Five years past, he quit his job in the Manila Electric Co., dreaming of the peace and quiet he would get in Barangay Canaynayan, a nondescript part of the small coastal town of Santa Cruz, Zambales. He had land, he had livelihood, he had assurance.
Three years into his life of farming, however, tragedy struck.
Typhoon Lando unleashed its wrath on the province in 2015. Interlaced with the swift current of its floodwaters were mud and nickel—a contagion brought forth by the mining operations on mountains nearby.
The flood—rust-red and lethal—reduced most of Delfin’s farmland into soil rendered useless. From 3 hectares of land, only less than half could be tapped.
Aside from the rice plantation overlooking his home, he also tended to a small number of fruit trees in his yard. However, even these were not spared from the deluge.
“They don’t bear fruit as well as the mango ones…then the banana trees wither and die,” he said in Filipino, adding his kaymito (star apple) and dalandan trees bore no fruit. Before Lando, Delfin harvested 200 sacks of rice from the entirety of his field per harvest season. At present, this has been slashed to more than half, with 70 sacks as the maximum number the land now yields.
“We have to spend more money for more fertilizer and insecticides,” he said.
Despite being laden with the difficulties of bouncing back from the damage inflicted upon him and his family, Delfin said the government did not extend any effort to aid them with the burden—not even the promise of recovery.
The continuous inactivity of the local government urged him to mobilize. Together with his wife, Josefina, he joined Move Now! Zambales, an alliance seeking to end the plunder of national resources and environmental degradation on a local and national scale.
Even with the fire of the fight in his heart, however, Delfin still suffers from the harsh reality of recuperation.
“Recovery is a difficult process…there’s nothing simple about it,” he admitted. But he is no longer alone in his struggle.
Plagued waters
SANTA CRUZ is a first-class municipality in Zambales with a population of 59,000. With mineral-rich mountains, it has been a hot spot for mining firms. Four mining companies operate in the area—LNL Archipelago Minerals Inc. (LNL), Eramen Minerals Inc. (EMI), Benguet Corp. Nickel Mines Inc. (BNMI) and Zambales Diversified Metals Corp. Inc. (ZDMCI)—under the cloak of economic growth and development.
However, the promised progress turned out to be an utter inconvenience.
In Barangay Tubotubo South lies a two-decade-old dam, a vital primary source of water in the area. The dam, whose water comes from the mountains and flows out to the sea, supplies the irrigation systems of farmlands and a river system that travels to different barangays.
Before the emergence of mining operations, the dam benefits the people of Santa Cruz tremendously. Livelihood was glowing in the city; the dam’s generous supply of water gave abundant crop yields to farmers; and families harvested seafood from the river, both for profit and for personal consumption.
Residents bathed and washed their clothes in the river, establishing its importance in the community. Soon after mining companies took over, the dam was transformed into a massive nuisance for the community. Mass extraction of nickel infected the once pristine river of Santa Cruz. It no longer provides clean, safe water for the people who once depended on it. Water level had gone extremely low, to the point where the once submerged earth has exposed itself to the naked eye. Gray stones became tainted with a rusty, brown color due to the extracted mineral.
Despite all these, the affected communities were left with no choice but to continue relying on nickel-contaminated waters. Mining operations drastically changed the entire system of Santa Cruz, and residents paid for the consequences.
Exploited, enraged, empowered
FOR Teri Espinosa of the Center for Environmental Concerns (CEC) chapter in Zambales, the Philippines has been “too welcoming” to exploitation.
In March think tank IBON Foundation said the Philippines is one of the most mineral-rich countries in the world. It ranks third in gold, fourth in copper, fifth in nickel and sixth in chromite. However, the majority of the country’s minerals are exported for the benefit of foreign corporations. IBON found that 97 percent of mineral production in the Philippines goes to foreign industries, proving the export-oriented nature of Philippine mining.
Espinosa cited the Philippine Mining Act of 1995 as one of the main reasons.
“It’s what invites foreign capitalists into this industry,” she said. “We are leaving our land out into the open for these foreigners to feast on.”
Signed into law by former President Fidel V. Ramos, the Act paved the way for 100-percent foreign-owned corporations to operate in the Philippines, despite the Constitution’s 60-40 rule on Filipino ownership and control of the country’s natural resources.
The Mining Act, in its conception, was poised to boost national economic growth and bring progress and development, especially in mineral-rich areas. In reality, however, the mining industry is among the industries with the least contribution to the country’s wealth, contrary to the government’s claim that it helps bring about prosperity to the country.
Data from the Philippine Statistics Authority showed mining only contributed 0.8 percent to the country’s GDP in 2016, marking an 11-percent decrease from its GDP contribution in 2015. Employment in the industry decreased from 0.6 percent in 2015 to 0.5 percent in 2016, an average of 204,000 workers of the total 40.8 million people employed.
Additionally, the government gives mining corporations permission to use natural resources covered by the government-owned land. It also grants easement rights, effectively giving firms the power to displace farmers, fishers and indigenous communities who are “in the way” of their operations.
Farmers and fishermen in Santa Cruz continue to suffer from the effects of mining operations in their community. The large-scale extraction of nickel in the mountains contaminated the water that irrigates the farmlands. As a result, fields are dried up, leaving no profit for the farmers.
With the problem at hand, farmers struggle to make money. Some buy sacks of organic fertilizer, hoping their fields will soften and be productive again. This, in turn, reduces their income. Others farm in fields they don’t own.
“Other farmers resort to looking for work in cramped cities due to the loss of their farmlands,” Espinosa added.
Fisherfolk near the poblacion area of Santa Cruz also faced the consequences of the same problem.
Instead of the everyday view of the sea, the looming sight of ships docked nearby greeted them in the morning. These waited for stockpile from the mines of the land beyond, gradually infusing the water beneath with nickel from their cargo.
Before the cargo ships came, life was a series of waking up at sunrise, going out to sea and returning home before the sun sets. Now, with the danger the ships posed, fresh catch became more difficult to acquire, as they receded into more treacherous depths. Fishermen would race to the sea before dawn’s first light, and only return long after the sun had gone down.
“They look for fish everywhere. For the fisherman, the burden got heavier as consumption increased,” recounted Rosalyn Alibong, who sells marine produce to help her fisherman-husband make a living.
A life of juggling fishing with other jobs was once the norm for many of Santa Cruz’s fishermen. But with the receding number of catch, Alibong’s 30 years of living by the wharf had turned into a matter of surviving day after day.
“We can’t afford it anymore. We’re left to fend for ourselves,” she said.
Alibong also shared that P200 was the average profit they made from a whole day of going out to the sea, matching the minimum cost of crude oil it would take for one small boat to make it to where the fishing ground is nowadays.
In addition to this problem, she recounted her employer would sometimes refuse to believe their claims the fish have retreated farther into the reef. They face accusations implying she and the other fishermen have taken most of the catch for their own consumption.
For Alibong, her husband and the rest of the community, only they could remove themselves from their dismal situation.
Hungry for change and justice, the fisher families have organized themselves into a collective against the mining operations that have destroyed their source of living. However, with their current situation far from improving, mobilizing the community had become an even harder task to undertake.
Alibong said registration was the only obstacle to the formal launching of their organization—but even getting recognition from the local government is something they have to work hard for.
“We’re still pooling our money. We’re helping each other with the contributions since the conditions leave us with nothing,” she recounted. “Can you blame them? Of course not. The mentality is, you feed yourself first.”
Despite the bleak circumstances, Alibong is grateful her home and loved ones remained intact after the plague. “We’re just praying that what happened in Bayto won’t happen to us here,” she prayed.
A rush of revolt
BUT the surge of red hailed by the rainstorm of two years ago brought more than pestilence to the local folk of Zambales. It replenished them with renewed strength and vigor to take their fight both to the streets and on legal avenues.
“We were home. The sun was up. We didn’t eat lunch yet when the rain began to pour although it wasn’t strong. By noon, the water was invasive. The flood began to rise,” recalled Movement for the Protection of the Environment (Move Now!) leader Cristeta Sison.
They were forced to evacuate and sought shelter in the house of one of their neighbors. When they left their home, the flood only reached their knees. Moments later, half of their bodies were submerged.
After the storm, they were unable to recover, just like the other families. The red flood destroyed their farmlands, her family’s main source of income.
Along with other residents, Nanay Teta launched Move Now! in Santa Cruz and called for the closure of the mining companies operating in their municipality. They blamed the unforgiving nickel-mining operations in their area for the disaster.
Recently, antimining advocate Concerned Citizens of Santa Cruz (CCOS) led residents of Santa Cruz and the neighboring towns of Candelaria and Infanta, Pangasinan, to file a petition before the Supreme Court (SC) against the mining firms operating in their municipality, accusing them of destroying the ecosystem, aggravating flood problems during typhoon season and affecting the livelihood of the people, among others.
On June 21, 2016, the SC issued a writ of kalikasan against five mining firms in Zambales, which include the four that operate in Santa Cruz. The writ of kalikasan is a legal remedy that provides protection of one’s constitutional right to a healthy environment.
Despite Zambales Gov. Amor Deloso’s executive order to stop the operations, mining companies continued to run after the temporary halt. At times, even the local government was their partner in crime. The residents’ initial victory at the legal courts was taken away from them.
On Valentine’s Day this year, the people of Santa Cruz saw another glimpse of hope when they met former Environment Secretary Regina Paz L. Lopez, known for her unforgiving stance against mining, including those operating in the municipality.
For the residents of Santa Cruz, it meant an end to all their suffering.
It was not.
“These foreign capitalists will always find a way of continuing their operations. They earn millions from our land, land which we don’t benefit from,” Espinosa said.
On February 2 Lopez ordered the closure of 23 mining operations in the country, four of which operate in Zambales. She required the companies to give the farmers P2 million for every hectare of farmland affected by the mining activities.
On May 3 the Commission on Appointments rejected the ad interim appointment of Lopez after three confirmation hearings. Lawmakers questioned her technical competence as environment secretary and the legal basis of her decisions.
In one of the confirmation hearings, Occidental Mindoro Rep. Josephine Ramirez-Sato asked for the legal basis of this decision, stating the country is “a nation of laws and not of men”.
“The fact that we have to take care of our farmers was enough reason for me,” Lopez said.
On May 8 Lopez was replaced by former Armed Forces of the Philippines Chief of Staff Roy A. Cimatu, who maintains a moderate stance on mining, saying that he would allow such operations, as long as they are “responsible.”
In the first week of June, the Court of Appeals denied the petition by CCOS for an issuance of a writ of kalikasan in Zambales. The 15-page decision said no unlawful act can be committed threatening the petitioner’s right to a balanced and healthful environment, since Lopez already ordered the closure of the operations of the four mining firms.
However, it isn’t always the case. The captain of a small barrio in Santa Cruz said many local government officials, including Deloso, were pro-mining. The barangay captain claimed only he and two other barangay captains opposed mining operations in their area.
“Deloso would make consultations, but in the end, it’s still clear he supports mining. Nothing could ever change that, even if we undertake appropriate measures,” he said.
Espinosa said many local government officials accept bribes from these mining firms in exchange for their approval of the mining operations.
“They would make deals with barangay captains to help their trucks pass in exchange for money. Stockpile is then transported; this is where the nickel is,” She said.
Sison also recalled a barangay captain who expressed his support for the mining operations, as it meant more money, apart from the share they get from mining taxes.
“One [barangay] captain said he would split profit wherever the mining operations are,” he said. “But me? I’m really against it.”
Under the Local Government Code, local government units (LGUs) shall have an “equitable share in the proceeds derived from the utilization and development of the national wealth within their respective areas.”
Apart from this, LGUs shall receive a 40-percent share of the gross collection derived by the national government from the preceding fiscal year, which includes mining taxes, royalties and fees. In that share, 45 percent goes to the municipality involved, 35 percent to the barangay, and 20 percent to the province.
IBON said government shares from mining in taxes, royalties and fees in 2015 amounted to P22.83 billion, or 1.33 percent of total tax revenues.
While these were obvious benefits to those in positions of power, communities continue to face dangers from impending natural disasters as a result of these activities. Typhoons, for instance, become more deadly due to nickel contamination.
“Problem is, the land isn’t stable. Once it collapses, the water it stored would flow down into the rivers and fields below,” Espinosa said, citing the danger of open-pit mining activities.
Antimining advocates in Santa Cruz, regardless of affiliation, help each other to gather data on mining operations in their community for a clearer, more scientific understanding of their plight. Official mining records, however, are protected by the local government.
“If you’re antimining and they support it, they wouldn’t let you know. They earn money from it,” Sison warned.
Bricks of bodies
EVEN the seemingly promising idea of more jobs given the presence of mines in the province proved to be illusory.
Ruel Ebelane worked under the road-maintenance arm of BNMI for four years, earning P364 for eight hours of road construction a day. When he was supposed to report back to his job after the Christmas holidays, there was no notice calling him to return to work.
Together with his colleagues, Ebelane formed a human barricade, blocking trucks carrying stockpile from reaching the ships that awaited them at the docks. They demanded for their jobs back, and they were assured of it.
Weeks passed, but they heard nothing from his employer.
On January 20, when their husbands were handling business at the National Power Corp. in Masinloc, the neighboring town, four women stood against the rush of oncoming trucks loaded with rocks from the mines. One of them was Ebelane’s wife, Zaida.
For six hours, the four women refused to give way to the cargo trucks lest the company hand back their only source of living. Their headstrong resistance was met by the security of BNMI, the Philippine National Police and weight cars. When Zaida and the three other women refused to surrender, the officials proceeded to cuff them and hold them in custody.
Ebelane had no knowledge of the turn of events until he and his coworkers returned to their homes.
“When I told them she was my wife, I raised my hand,” he recounted.
Afterward, he was thrown against one of the weight cars, while a police official demanded to know why he “allowed” his wife to know the nature of the situation. The women’s defiance eventually resulted in Ebelane and 10 of his other colleagues getting their jobs back.
“Had we not done what we had done, they wouldn’t have their jobs back,” Zaida said.
While forming human barricades may seem like extreme lengths to demanding their rights, these are common occurrences in Zambales, given the state of mining in the area.
Last year people from the village of Bayto in Santa Cruz gathered along the highway to call for the end of large-scale mining operations. In February this year, Nanay Teta told of another human barricade formed to stop the stockpile from going down the mountains.
Aside from these, citizens have joined mobilizations advocating pro-people’s mining in February.
After Lopez declared the closing down of mining contracts, the residents traveled to Manila to support her decision. Their activities included holding picket protests at BNMI and demonstrations at the Senate to call for a pro-people’s mining bill.
House Bill 171, or the People’s Mining Act, was refiled last year by Party-list Rep. Carlos Zarate of Bayan Muna, one of its coauthors and also the chairman of the House Committee on Natural Resources. The proposed law aims for the “appropriate utilization” of the country’s natural resources for national industrialization.
Moreover, under the leadership of CEC, a solidarity program was held in the Department of Agrarian Reform, along with communities affected by mining from other provinces, such as Nueva Vizcaya and Mindoro.
At hope’s altar
IN the face of havoc, Santa Cruz stands unfazed. Until a mining act in favor of the people is passed, until the farmlands and the seas fully recover, until the mountains relish peace without the intervention of mankind, the struggle continues.
Nanay Teta longs for the day when everything goes back to the way it was before: Farmers and fishermen enjoying bountiful harvest and citizens living in harmony with the environment.
“A lot of people have already died. Will we let more suffer the same fate?” she said. “It has to stop.”
The people of Santa Cruz vowed to keep fighting. After all, battles are built on the altar of hope. And for the people of Santa Cruz, hope prevails stronger than ever.