Lux Issue 11/12 features interviews and essays on the fight against fascism around the globe. Read more from Kenya, India, Afghanistan, the U.K., and the U.S.
Jonila Castro was blindfolded, but she could hear singing coming from a videoke bar and the noise of vehicles on what she imagined to be a highway. She tried to visualize the bare apartment she was kept in, guarded by armed men. Her friend and fellow activist Jhed Tamano was being held separately. Castro wondered if anyone even knew they were missing.
The mundanity of videoke — a national pastime in the Philippines, with bars found on virtually every street corner — while she was surrounded by gunmen felt like a metaphor for the country: the economy bustling along in an ostensible democracy where activists risk harassment, arrest, abduction, and death.
Castro, 23, and Tamano, 22, are environmental activists affiliated with AKAP Ka Manila Bay, a network of fisherfolk, churchgoers, and youth working to stop reclamation, where soil is transported to the coast to build up new land. Located in the capital of the Philippines, Manila Bay is a natural harbor, home to over 200,000 waterbirds, with coasts that serve as a source of livelihood for its low-income communities. The environmental group Oceana has said that the reclamation projects, of which there are more than 20 planned or underway, may cause irreversible damage to marine habitats and fisheries.
Castro and Tamano had been organizing communities in Bataan, a province west of Manila, to defend their homes from aggressive development undertaken by multinationals with the support of the local and national governments.
They knew what they were doing was risky. The Philippines is one of the deadliest countries in the world for environmental activists and land defenders in particular, and many of the murders and kidnappings are carried out by government forces or aligned paramilitaries. According to a recent investigation by In These Times, “a very conservative assessment suggests evidence of state involvement in 109 of 210 such killings” in the last decade. Many of those forces have received training from the United States, which considers the Philippines a close ally. That support continued under former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte, whose brutal drug crackdown led to as many as 30,000 deaths, and has deepened under the current president, Ferdinand Marcos Jr., son of the dictator who ruled the country from 1965 to 1986. Activists are regularly subjected to “red-tagging” by the government, accused of being communists or terrorists.
On the night of September 2, 2023, Castro and Tamano were pulled from the street into an SUV by armed, masked men. They were held for about two weeks in a safehouse, subjected to isolation and threats of rape and violence. Their captors told the women that their fellow activists had abandoned them, that they had put the communities they were organizing in danger. Worse, their captors tried to convince each of them that the other had betrayed them. The men coerced Castro and Tamano into signing false affidavits of surrender, saying that they were members of the communist revolutionary armed group the New People’s Army (NPA). They arranged for the women to appear in a televised press conference with the National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict (NTF-ELAC).
But what the military didn’t know was that Castro and Tamano, in stolen moments, managed to make a plan to go off script in front of the cameras. Castro declared that she and Tamano had been abducted and that their supposed confessions were signed under duress.
“We were obliged to surrender because they threatened to kill us. That’s the truth. We did not want to be in the custody of the military,” she said. “We want to show today the state’s blatant fascism towards activists, who only want to fight for Manila Bay.”
In the uproar that followed, they were brought to the independent Commission on Human Rights and later released to a crowd of supporters. (The government still maintains that the women were kidnapped by leftists and went to the military for help; Castro told Al Jazeera last year that “it was really obvious” the men who captured and interrogated them were military. One even showed her his graduation picture from the military academy.)
The women learned that their coastal communities had not abandoned them. They had noted their disappearance, they had sounded the alarm, and they had prompted a campaign that eventually pressured the government to present them to the press. The astonishing release was as much because of their individual resolve as it was because of the collective effort of the community they were serving.
We spoke in July, at the University of the Philippines campus in Quezon City, just a month before the Philippine Court of Appeals brazenly rejected Castro and Tamano’s plea for protection, leaving them vulnerable to red-tagging and further violence at the hands of the military. Today, despite being charged with defamation, and at elevated risk, Castro and Tamano remain active in different environmental organizations. Our conversation has been translated and edited.
Geela Garcia and Jonathan de Santos How did each of you become activists?
Jhed Tamano I started as a student activist at Bulacan State University. At that time, I wanted an explanation of how the world works and why many people continue to suffer. I volunteered for a senatorial candidate in the 2022 elections and resolved to join a political organization afterward, when I realized that change is only possible through collective action. I decided to become full-time on this path a year later.
Jonila Castro I am the eldest daughter of factory workers, and I have two younger brothers. I became an activist in my first year of college. It was under Duterte’s administration. There were so many issues: the high price of commodities, injustices, the war on drugs. Many problems in society were exposed, from health and education, to the economy and the military. I was seeing so much inequality and it angered me, but at the same time, I knew my anger couldn’t make a change. I later joined Anakbayan, a youth organization, and the political discussions there gave me explanations for injustice. I realized that my anger could be translated into action in activism. As a young activist, I integrated with urban poor communities, and from there, I understood more about social realities.
GG/JDS President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. has been a darling of the international press, especially in comparison to his predecessor. He’s given promising statements on the environment, about shifting to green energy for instance, and on civil liberties and human rights. And yet, at least 15 environmental activists have been abducted since he took office. Tell us the reality on the ground in the coastal communities that you are working with.
JT We see the negative impacts of his decisions on the environment and in the communities where we organize on the ground. The reclamation [in Manila Bay], which the government allowed by giving permits to San Miguel Corporation, has destroyed hundreds of mangroves, which are natural shields protecting communities from typhoons. Flooding in towns has worsened. And the reclamation project has limited the area where fishermen can fish, decreasing their catch.
The environmental projects that Marcos allows — like the construction of solar farms — are branded as green or sustainable, but in reality, the only ones who will benefit are the corporations who will be getting electricity from them. These projects are not for public consumption, and the communities where these projects will be built will only be displaced. In Bataan, where Jonila and I organize, the government approved an increase in coal-fired power plants in economic zones. Workers in the area have noticed effects on their health and the environment from the waste and emissions that the factories emit.
JC There are a lot of mining projects that have received permits or been renewed. And in terms of human rights, our abduction is one of the proofs that this administration is far from better than the previous one. So many activists have been abducted under this administration, and there are people with trumped-up charges under anti-terror and anti-terrorist financing laws, which [are used against] progressive organizations and individuals.
GG/JDS Reclamation work along Manila Bay is promoted as development that will bring jobs and commerce to the Philippines. Why do you and the communities you work with oppose these projects?
JC These projects are designed for the benefit of big local and foreign capitalists. Genuine development projects should address the current problems in the country, and what are these? Poverty, unemployment, and climate change. Where is the development in reclamation, when the project would only displace communities and ruin marine ecosystems? In terms of employment, fishermen have said that only educated people can get a job in these projects. They might be able to get construction work, but that is not a regular job, and what they earn from construction will not equate to what they earn from fishing. If we are talking about genuine development, give fishermen what they need: boats, fishing nets, a budget for oil, and the rehabilitation of Manila Bay. Reclamation is far from rehabilitation.
“We want to show today the state’s blatant fascism towards activists.”
JT Take the Aerotropolis [a massive airport complex being constructed on reclaimed land]. San Miguel Corporation, the company behind that reclamation, said that they would give jobs to the community but the 700 families living in the area were only displaced. And if there are jobs, these jobs are only temporary, and if there are more stable jobs, these workers would need higher qualifications. And even if these workers find jobs in factories, they would still be exploited because wages will still be low, because the ones who own these establishments are still foreign capitalists.
GG/JDS What led you to organize around environmental issues? How do you counter the criticism — commonly leveled by conservatives on social media — that activists like you are “pa-woke” (too woke)?
JT I didn’t specifically choose to be an environmental activist, but environmental issues are intertwined in the lives of the masses, so I found myself here.
JC I think this [concern about image] is more associated with “activists” online. Probably some people use activism for clout or popularity, and of course, younger people will always join trends, they will follow what’s cool, and if being an activist is cool of course they will do it. But we’re not activists because we want to be famous. We do propaganda work and organizing to fight for people’s rights, we don’t organize just to gain a huge following. It frustrates me that there are people who are like that. It’s so hard to organize on the ground, and yet you will see some people who are just focused on their online following. Activism is difficult and serious work. We even go hungry on the ground.
JT Most frontline environmental defenders do not know they are on the front lines, especially farmers, fisherfolk, and Indigenous peoples. In the context of the Philippines, an agricultural country, the majority of our population is farmers and fisherfolk, who depend on the environment for their livelihoods. We are climate vulnerable and we have every reason to protect the environment. It’s not just being a nature lover or doing tree-planting, it’s protecting our lives and our future.
GG/JDS Was your abduction the first time you were in danger? Did you understand the risks you were taking as environmental defenders?
JC The threat started with red-tagging. The military and the [anti-communist task force] had been visiting my house since 2022 at least once a month. They would ask my parents about me and tell them that I’m a member of the NPA. The visits became more frequent until the abduction. We also experienced red-tagging and surveillance in the community during the weeks before the abduction.
My parents weren’t supportive of my activism before, but every time I came home from the communities I would tell them what I had learned and experienced, and then eventually they understood. As an activist, you have to explain the rotten system and how it also affects your own family. I’m actually in awe of my family because even if they thought about turning me in, in the end, they believed in the work that I do, and protected me.
GG/JDS Tell us about the abduction. How did you feel initially, and how did you handle the ordeal?
JC My initial feeling during the abduction was anger because I knew this was what other abducted activists had experienced. I thought about Steve Abua [an Indigenous organizer in Luzon who disappeared in 2021] and other activists still missing today. I was more angry than scared. Jhed and I weren’t in the same camp at first, and I felt a sense of hopelessness because I had no one with me except the military. I told myself that I shouldn’t be emotional; I thought about everyone who sacrificed and the people who were waiting for me. I had to fight all the emotional outbursts. And when I felt that hopelessness I reminded myself why I started.
JT I was feeling all sorts of emotions but I knew that these abductions are very much real. I even thought that I’d see other activists who had been captured. I had a hard time dealing with the psychological warfare, and the emotions manifested later. They had different tactics: Sometimes there would be an angry military guy asking me questions or it would be someone who’d gently ask us to surrender. They would tell me that they were nice and that they wouldn’t hurt me, but then they would get mad at me. I tried to survive while not capitulating to them as best I could.
JC The psychological torture was intense. I thought I was strong, but the emotional blackmail was too much. Sometimes they would tell me that because of my stubbornness, Jhed could be killed. The abductors told me these things repeatedly, and it had an effect, I kept on crying. Later on, when I pretended that I would surrender, I had to repress the anger, the sadness, and the hopelessness. I needed to say words that my captors wanted to hear, I needed to laugh with them because if I didn’t they would think I had changed my mind. They forced me to write an affidavit of surrender. I had to make up stories to save our colleagues and people from the communities. They would do the good-cop/bad-cop tactic, they would ask for my favorite food and then suddenly say that we should be buried in the same grave. They would say things like, “we ‘rescued you’ this way because if we just talked to you then you wouldn’t agree.” It was emotionally exhausting. They vilified the work that we do in communities, telling us that we’re only making it worse for them. The safehouse — which wasn’t safe — was also uncomfortable, especially at night. There was a time when a man slept beside me. In the first “safehouse” the bathroom had no lock, so I didn’t even know if people were looking at me when I was in the bathroom. They threatened us, saying that it was a good thing they didn’t water cure1The “water cure” is a form of torture where a person is forced to drink large quantities of water in a short time. U.S. soldiers used the practice widely at the turn of the twentieth century during the Philippine-American war. us, cut our tongues, or even rape us. They wanted us to be grateful for that.
GG/JDS Were the statements that you made at the press conference planned? How did you reach the decision to sabotage their plans?
JC I realized our captors were trying to psych us out when I realized their statements were inconsistent. Sometimes they would blame a certain boss for the abduction but then they’d also say that their boss didn’t know we had been abducted. When we were reunited [after several days held in isolation], we asked each other if it was true that we had signed an affidavit of surrender, and we found out it was not true. [After that], we had separate rooms, but we could go to each other’s rooms. When we were discussing what to do at the press conference, we had this sudoku book as our way of communicating. I pretended to teach Jhed the game [while actually they were writing down their plans]. For example, if I said “1” it meant we were going to do the press conference and if “2” it meant we would refuse.
I wanted to speak up as a survivor. The press conference was a chance for us to speak up for all the activists who also disappeared. We had a dramatic scene in our heads. We wanted to shout that we had been abducted, and we were prepared for whatever happened after that, even death. I had accepted the fact that I would die young, at 22. I just wanted to say the truth. We didn’t know that the press conference was live. What was important for us was that there was mainstream media to document.
“I had accepted the fact that I would die young, at 22.”
After we were released, I couldn’t believe that people were waiting for us. When we were in the safehouse, I wondered if people even knew that we disappeared. But all the loneliness of the safehouse vanished because people were looking for us and fighting for the truth. The press conference was also held in a municipal hall, on neutral ground, which was a result of a popular campaign. It was originally supposed to be in a military camp, but because there was mass action from the people it was moved to a neutral ground. If we were just mere brave young women without mass action from the people, we could have died, but people chose to side with us to stand with the truth. Collective action saves lives.
So when people ask us why we aren’t scared to speak up, I say “why should I be afraid when this whole ordeal just reaffirmed what I believe?” It just reaffirmed that I should be stronger, that I should be sharper, and better for the people. They have already threatened our lives — what more can they take from us?
Geela Garcia is a Filipino freelance photographer, multimedia journalist, and peasant advocate based in Manila.
Jonathan de Santos is an editor for a broadcast company in Manila. He is also a press freedom and media welfare advocate through the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines.
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- 1The “water cure” is a form of torture where a person is forced to drink large quantities of water in a short time. U.S. soldiers used the practice widely at the turn of the twentieth century during the Philippine-American war. ↩︎