Peace Watch

Letter from Mindanao

April/May 2005

Astrid Tuminez

Fighting to stay cool in the relentless, humid heat of the Philippines, Gene Martin and I drove up to Bumbaran, a town in the province of Lanao del Sur in Mindanao. Large sport utility vehicles are the only vehicles equipped to handle the winding, unpaved mountain roads. Rain was falling abundantly, and everywhere the landscape was wet and verdant. Tiny bunches of white and pink flowers freckled the panoramic green of the giant ferns that grew profusely on the mountainsides.

We were in the Philippines on behalf of the Institute’s Philippine Facilitation Project, which the State Department had commissioned to help expedite the peace process between the Philippine government and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front, or MILF. The MILF, a 12,000-strong guerilla force supported by many of the four to five million Muslims in the Philippines (known as Moros) has been fighting the government for decades—in a war that has so far cost more than 120,000 lives.

Bumbaran is a new frontier in what observers call the “Paglas experience,” referring to the astonishingly successful efforts of Datu Toto Paglas, a Moro chieftain, to turn former areas of ambush, kidnapping, and killing into profitable plantations. The experiment started in Toto’s village of Paglas, where his family had long enjoyed high status as clan leaders.

Using the latest agricultural technology, developed and taught by Israeli technology officers, the Paglas plantation produced and exported millions of dollars worth of bananas to Japan and the Middle East. Muslims and Christians worked side by side and the plantation proved remarkably stable, even when battles raged between the military and guerillas in 2000 and 2003. Toto Paglas’ vision was to break the cycle of violence in his hometown by providing employment so people could spend their time working rather than settling vengeful scores with enemies— Muslim, Christian, or military. His motto was simple: “Introduce development first, then let’s talk about peace.”

The first plantation could not meet foreign demand, so Toto looked for land outside his clan’s territory. Bumbaran had witnessed murder and revenge killings, but the weather and soil conditions were good. Toto thought he could replicate his experiment in peace through economic development in Bumbaran.

One of his first actions was to facilitate the signing of a peace covenant among local Muslim, Christian, and tribal leaders. He and his colleagues also explained to locals the social benefits that would come with employment and income. When we visited, the plantation had 350 hectares of fertile highland and several hundred workers, with expansion planned to 1,000 hectares and more than 1,000 workers. Toto and his investors repaired the local mosque and school, and conducted a yearly lottery with winners chosen to go to the hajj in Mecca, all expenses paid. Winners wept at the first lottery, declaring that they had never in their wildest dreams thought of seeing Mecca.

We took pictures of ourselves with some of the plantation workers and guards. Toto noted that those with no affinity for planting, who had been guerilla fighters or even kidnappers, were employed as guards for the plantation. Later, in the makeshift cafeteria where we all ate the traditional way—with our hands—an engineer told me that he worked on Bumbaran while his wife and young child lived in the city of Davao, four hours away. “Why do you make this sacrifice?” I asked. He said, “I was well-employed before joining the plantation. But I am a Christian and sought a larger purpose. I knew this job would allow me to contribute to peace and create something above and beyond my technical expertise.”

Months later, shivering through a New York winter, I picture in my mind the banana incubation area of Bumbaran. Sheltered under a roof and protected by transparent plastic walls, these small shoots looked deeply green and hardy. I was told that modern methods of drip-feeding and fertilization shortened the incubation period by six to eight weeks. Toto’s men said they would plant the bananas in the field in April and harvest the sweetest fruit four months later.

Who would have thought that a Muslim chieftain could convince foreign investors to take a risk in lands torn by conflict? Who would have thought that a Jewish technologist and Christian engineer would live and work among Moro farmers and feel at home? “Highland Bananas—World’s Sweetest,” declared the sign in Bumbaran. Sweetest, indeed—to incubate peace through economic development, to harvest the dividends of employment even in the absence of a formal peace agreement, and to see hope among thousands of disenfranchised people because a leader with vision and commitment created for them a different path forward.

Astrid Tuminez is senior research associate and Gene Martin is executive director of the Institute’s Philippine Facilitation Project, commissioned by the State Department.