The Philippines, Seeds of Peace in the Land of Promise
Ryan Anson
On Apr. 28, 2000, the Armed Forces of the Philippines unleashed its deadly weaponry on the people of central Mindanao. Hundreds of thousands of civilians were victimized by former President Joseph Estrada’s “all-out-war” policy against the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), a secessionist movement fighting to establish an independent Islamic state in the southern Philippines. Although the government has fought various groups struggling for self-determination over the last three decades, its recent campaign against the MILF resulted in levels of destruction unseen since the 1970s. Scores of civilians died, homes were burned and looted, and relationships among the region’s Christian, Muslim and indigenous Lumad people groups were severely strained by a conflict with no end in sight. As the months went by, and 1000-pound bombs continued to fall on their homes and farmlands, the majority of the 800,000 people displaced by the fighting knew that peace in Mindanao remained an elusive dream. However, a power struggle in Manila suddenly turned that seemingly unattainable dream into something of a reality. On January 20, 2001, millions of Filipinos re-invoked the spirit of People Power to oust the man who spent $1 million a day on the war in the South. After assuming Estrada’s position, President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo announced that the question of peace in Mindanao would become a top policy priority for her administration. By mid-March, MILF and government peace panels signed a bi-lateral ceasefire that allowed most of the displaced persons to safely return home.
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I first traveled to central Mindanao in March 2001, just one month after the warring parties agreed to silence their guns. Using Notre Dame University’s Center for Peace, Justice and Integrity of Creation in Cotabato City as a base, I photographed former refugees struggling to piece their lives back together after living in total fear and destitution for months. My initial images focused more on the structural damage from the war, and revealed only a fraction of the suffering that scarred communities all across this beautiful landscape.
But after speaking with mothers who had lost both their homes and children during the conflict, I came to realize that in spite of their painful circumstances, they revealed an astonishing desire to forgive the perpetrators of violence. Some communities were already transcending prejudices aggravated by decades of ethnic and political conflict.
Even before the war officially ended, Muslims, Christians and Lumads had begun to meet in community centers to share their richly-diverse cultures and religions, and explore other ways of restoring trust and mutual appreciation. Although many of the tri-people had lived together for generations, these spaces of dialogue served as some of the first venues where neighbors from different backgrounds could unite to heal strained relationships, and forge a common vision for lasting peace. As a photojournalist committed to non-violence, the unfolding journey toward peace in central Mindanao captivated me and spoke to my deepest values. With support from The Southern Philippines Foundation for the Arts, Culture and Ecology (SPACE), I headed back to the "Land of Promise" in November 2001 to continue documenting this worthwhile process of renewal and reconciliation. Upon my return though, I discovered that government and MILF forces violated the ceasefire on numerous occasions. Sporadic fighting and displacement of civilian populations occurred as politicians and rebel leaders made hollow promises at the negotiating table. Furthermore, the United States deployed 1000 soldiers in southwestern Mindanao to provide training and logistical support to Filipino troops in their fight against Abu Sayyaf, a notorious kidnap-for-ransom gang with alleged links to Al-Qaida. This intervention, which was seen as the second phase of America's war on terrorism, angered many people from Mindanao who are concerned that the joint-training exercises may further destabilize the region.
In spite of the growing militarization of the island, the tri-people are forging ahead with their community peace-building campaigns. I simply came to bear witness to the struggle to transform Mindanao into a sanctuary of peace. The majority of photographs in this exhibit point to the legacy of protracted conflict in central Mindanao. Because any struggle involves both failure and achievement, it is necessary that part of my documentation reveal certain setbacks to the peace-building process. However, the pictures also highlight the small yet powerful victories contained within the realm of dialogue and reconciliation. If photojournalism can be used to illuminate what is dark and impossible in our world, then it must also have an equally important role in showing all that is possible. It is my hope that these images accomplish even a fragment of that enormous challenge.
