Philippines International Review
Pilot issue, Winter 1997-98

Kadtuntaya. Saying the word is not easy at first, especially for those not accustomed to seeing d's and t's next to each other in a single word, or to hearing the unique "dull-staccato" sound produced when the two letters are pronounced together. But learning to say the word properly is surely not as difficult as trying to realise fully its meaning in the very socio-historical setting that has made it both absolutely essential and extremely vulnerable. Kadtuntaya is a Maguindanao term which, according to Guiamel Alim, literally means "to understand each other in order to foster better relations." In Mindanao, the real peace and democratic development that could arise from kadtuntaya has been sacrificed all too often to both greed and religious prejudice. Indeed, for Guiamel, kadtuntaya is an interfaith process, the significance of which derives from the fact that religion has been used to destroy, rather than build, the relationships needed for peace and development.

History of conflict
Guiamel, a Maguindanao Muslim, should know. He was born in 1955 in Datu Piang, one of the seventeen municipalities of the Central Mindanao province of Maguindanao. The Maguindanao tribe is one of the largest of the numerous ethnolinguistic groups indigenous to the island of Mindanao which converted to Islam sometime in the 13th century, giving birth to some of the first Muslim sultanates in the region. Unsurprisingly, the province named after the tribe has the highest concentration of ethnic Maguindanaoans and one of the highest concentrations of Muslims in the Southern Philippines. It was thus no mere coincidence that the province was also one of the hardest hit by the intense violent conflict which enveloped this part of Mindanao just two and a half decades ago, about the same time then-President Ferdinand Marcos moved to establish centralized authoritarian rule throughout the Philippines.

Cautioning those who may be tempted to see the ongoing conflict in Mindanao as simply a struggle for control over the island's land and other natural resources, he says, "I think it is erroneous to say that religion has nothing to do with the situation in Mindanao. It may not be the principal reason for the conflict, but you know how religion was used by the Spaniards to divide the Muslims and the Christians. That was the beginning.

Now among Muslims there is still apprehension that the missionary work of the church is part of Christianizing the Muslims. And so partly, the conflict today involves this ongoing mistrust because of unresolved prejudices. For instance, the schools were used to propagate secular systems without giving due respect to the Islamic system. It is only in the 1980s or late 70s that Christian schools allowed Muslims to say their prayers in that school. But in the past, never. I was a victim of that. We never had a chance." He regards the fact that many Christian schools now provide a prayer-room for Muslims as a "victory of the struggle of the Moro people."

Islands of Islam
As Guiamel suggests, while land is certainly central to the conflict in Mindanao, the cultural meanings different groups attach to the land are also at stake. If Moro people are given a tract of land but denied the political authority to determine the system which prevails there, a basic part of who they are is also denied. He points out that the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) has tried to address this problem by implementing "some kind of Islamic system" in territories under their control. "In these areas," he says, "they can just leave their farming tools and animals and nobody will steal them because they have already started a system that works for them. In other areas, you cannot do that. You cannot leave your carabao just anywhere, or it will 'get lost.' The following day you will no longer have a carabao."

In many parts of Mindanao, the Sharia courts which are a vital part of the Islamic system still function at the community level, though they may not be visible to "outside" observers. It is often there, and not in the civil courts, where disputes between Muslims get resolved in a way which Guiamel believes is, in the end, "most fitting" to them. In trying to curb theft and other problems which plague many communities in Mindanao (not just the Moro ones), the MILF has taken on a politically important governance task neglected by the Philippine government for some time. One sign of the MILF's seriousness in this regard, Guiamel says, is that its leaders are no longer talking about territory per se in peace talks with the government. Instead, "they are talking about allowing them to practice Islam in areas where Muslims are the majority. This is a very concrete expression of a meaningful opening for a distinct people like the Moros." A personal journey Growing up amidst the complex social and political dynamics that sparked the so-called "Muslim-Christian war" in the early 1970s, Guiamel undoubtedly witnessed more than his "fair share" of prejudice and its consequences, including the erosion of whatever interfaith goodwill may have accumulated at local levels as a result of informal kadtuntaya processes. "Undoubtedly," because he subsequently turned toward trying to rebuild the relationships of mutual understanding the war had destroyed. By the late 1970s, Guiamel was "one of those students who participated in political activities denouncing human rights violations and other problems." Then in 1980 he got a job at Notre Dame University in Cotabato City as a community extension worker, where he stayed until 1986. The experience seems to have been a crucial turning point for him. This is because, ironically, even though they themselves were Maguindanao Muslims, Guiamel and his co-workers often encountered problems in relating with Muslim communities. Because they came from the university, they were immediately labeled as "with the priests." Eventually, the group solved this dilemma by forming their own organization not attached to the university, but dedicated to fostering Muslim-Christian dialogue. Drawing from their native language, they called the new organization "Kadtuntaya Foundation."

Evolution of KFI At first the group focused on Muslim-Christian dialogue, "because we saw the need for educating both Muslims and Christians, and therefore the need to facilitate dialogue so that there could be mutual understanding." But they soon felt the need to "do direct service work," especially in Moro communities battered by war and suffering from decades of government neglect in terms of basic services. According to Guiamel, rural programs initiated by the Marcos government, such as Masagana 99, never reached the Moro communities, or if they did, ended up benefiting only their most influential members. This situation did not change much after Marcos fell. So KFI gradually developed programs geared to addressing the communities' most pressing social and economic needs, and, to transforming social relationships inside the communities in order to ensure that the benefits of development projects and programs are spread more evenly. This was the time when Corazon Aquino became president, and according to Guiamel, "the so-called 'democratic space' came into existence," giving the organization more opportunities to develop these new dimensions of their work.

This expansion of KFI's work in this regard seems to have been a logical step beyond its initial "dialogue of life" efforts, since these were usually organised around issues affecting especially the poor in both Christian and Muslim communities. Today, KFI still uses a "conventional" organising method, meaning they go to the communities, discuss their "problems and perspective," and try to work together in coming up with strategies on how to solve the problems thus identified. Though for the most part, Guiamel says, it does not matter whether a community is Muslim, Christian or Lumad, he says that there are certain par-ticularities involved in working in specifically Moro communities.

Through experience, KFI organisers have learned the importance of involving community leaders in discussions about problems and solutions. This is because of their "feudal and clannish structure," which acts as a kind of "gateway" into the community, but one that can either remain closed or open up to outsiders. If the leaders can be convinced of the usefulness of a certain program or project, then gaining the acceptance of the rest of the community tends to be more or less automatic. "But of course," says Guiamel, "you have to do a lot of education to the leaders, because otherwise, everything goes to the leader." For this reason, KFI includes in its organising work "inputs on Islamic leadership." According to the Koran, leaders are the last to benefit from "any blessings that come into the community. You have to be like the captain of a ship. If the ship is sinking, let other people be saved first, and then if there is still a way, you can save yourself too. This is what the Koran says. There is no other way to interpret it."

Another important fact of life in Moro communities which affects the way KFI works is the existence of "overlapping leaderships." In addition to the "traditional" leaders (i.e., the datus) and "new" elected leaders (i.e., based on the Philippine constitution), are the religious leaders and "revolutionary" (i.e. MILF, MNLF and other armed groups) leaders. According to Guiamel, "all these four leaders can be found in practically all Moro communities, and you seldom find an area where this overlapping leadership does not dominate people's lives." This means too that, for the sake of initiating and protecting programs, KFI has learned to deal with all the leaderships which may exist in a particular place at a given time. This pragmatic approach is perhaps driven by the fact that, as Guiamel puts it, "addressing the misery of the Moro people is something which has to be done here and now. We cannot wait for ten years, if you have that kind of projection for liberation. And even if we get liberation after ten years, I think the most difficult thing is changing the attitudes of people. That will take some time, and so you must start today."

KFI now engages in seven additional types of programs and services, including community organizing and cooperative-building; livelihood development; advocacy and campaigns for environmental protection and responsible government; women, literacy and health; relief and rehabilitation; day-care for children; and value education. Even today under the present Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) administration, KFI is helping to fill the "development gap" in the communities where it works. "For instance," says Guiamel, "there are 23 municipalities in the Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao (ARMM) which do not have government doctors. Can you imagine that? Many municipalities do not have health centers, schools, farm-to-market roads, potable water, electricity... If our leaders could provide these basic services, then peace would be on its way. But they have not so far, which is unfor-tunate because we wanted the MNLF to make a 'showcase,' to prove that they can run government better than their predecessors. But while our leaders are thinking big, they have overlooked many of the rural communities, and so NGOs like KFI must try to fill in, providing services where people need them most."

Relief work
But in the unpredictable political environment of Mindanao, too often KFI and other NGOs are forced to pour their limited resources into relief work, rather than more productive development programs. "I think one of the biggest challenges we are facing at the moment is the problem of peace and order in many communities. For instance, in many areas in our place, you always hear of cases of kidnapping, and when there is kidnapping, there is militarization. You also have these revolutionary movements, and sometimes they are in head-on collisions with the military, and so you will see people suddenly having to move out from their communities." In Mindanao, the tension can erupt very suddenly, as it did in Cotabato and Maguindanao this past June when government troops launched an attack on an MILF base camp. In such moments, it is impossible to ignore the immediate need for an active relief effort. And yet, "it's really a waste of resources," says Guiamel shaking his head sadly. "I mean if these resources are spent for development programs, like starting up projects in the communities, it can help a lot. But then we have to spend these resources for relief. There is no other way. We have to consider the human side of the situation."

On the tri-people approach
Curiously, KFI's brochure does not mention the "tri-people approach," a phrase which originated within the national democratic movement in the 1980s, and generally refers to the fact that Mindanao is populated by three broadly distinct peoples — the Muslims, Christian settlers, and Lumad. When asked why, Guiamel explains that the concept behind the term is not new, but goes back to the 1970s-era "interfaith approach." He prefers the term "interfaith" because he finds it more encompassing ("it recognizes other people who many not necessarily be involved in any faith"), and more flexible ("while we don't have many Lumads in our group, we are also not importing them just to make the organization 'tri-people'"). So he accepts the tri-people concept as just another attempt to explore how Muslim, Christian, and Lumad groups can work together in Mindanao.

But the veteran Moro activist's acceptance of the "tri-people" approach is tempered by the apparently tough lessons of experience. "I agree with tri-people — as an idea — because there is no other way," he says matter-of-factly, "but it has to fulfill certain basic requirements to work." One of these is transparency. "I am a living witness," he explains, "to how in the past we were used by some to advance the cause of the national democratic movement without clearly understanding the perspective of the Moro people. During those times, the Moro issue was known all over the world and the movement was able to make use of it to get lots of resources. So by transparency I mean that if we are really sincere in working together, you have to tell me everything. Do not use me to advance your ideological perspective." Guiamel does not believe that the relationship between the Moro struggle and other movements is necessarily antagonistic, but rather that it is better and possible to work together on an issue basis, instead of an ideological one. In addition there must be accountability and, most of all, mutual understanding — kadtuntaya. Together, these three elements are the basic foundation for an "effective tri-people working concept."

Elaborating, Guiamel poses some challenging questions. "If I deal with the settlers and they would like to put up a socialist republic or whatever, what about me? What about our people? Maybe they would need an Islamic system. Would you grant them that? On what conditions? What would be our level of participation? Are you going to use us? Are we going to use you? I think that is the most logical thing: if you are going to use us, we will also use you. So it has to start with understanding what really is the Moro people. What do they want? What kind of system best fits them? Would they work for a classless society? Is that the aim they want? Or do they have a different perspective?"

The only option
The answers to these questions are not at all obvious. And given the turbulent, often violent history of Mindanao, perhaps the challenge of trying to find out, understand, and respect who the Moro people really are and what they really want is now too difficult. But Guiamel clearly does not think so. In the end, he firmly accepts the idea of tri-people. Why? "Because there is no other option in Mindanao. It is a reality that Lumads, Christians, and Muslims live together. Nobody now can say, "We own Mindanao." Not the Muslims. Well, they used to, but that is history. The reality at the moment is that these people — three peoples — exist. Not only exist, but exist side-by-side. I think all the cultural perspectives of these three peoples allow them to work together. I think the religion of the settlers or Christians does not drive people away. In the same way, Islam is open to other people. I think also the Lumad. So why don't we concretize that by working together? According to one person, "Maybe we still cannot embrace each other at this time, but we cannot also afford to throw each other away." So there is no viable option but to work together. And then, what I am saying is, since we have to work together, we have to be open and we have to be transparent. there should be no hidden agenda. And in that case, it is going to be like an orchestra. We will produce very nice music."

Photo taken during Kadtuntaya's Relief Operation in December 1999, in Carmen, North Cotabato.