Images from the Margins

Images from the Margins:
the Mangyan struggle against dispossession
in the documentary-photography of Raymond Panaligan


Raymond Panaligan's images are postcards from the peripheries of the Philippines: intimate snapshots of daily scenes from Mangyan communities in southern Mindoro. Panaligan presents portraits of a people dispossessed by colonial and contemporary incursions into their ancestral lands, disenfranchised in their own communal territories, and left behind in an archipelago surrounded by crisis.

The Mangyan documentation is an ongoing project of his. Using photography as a means to document their presence, Panal igan has chronicled the day to day lives of Mangyans through the years since 1993, during his excursions to their communities in southern Mindoro. He has documented most closely the lines of Hanunoo Mangyans, one of the seven existing tribes populating the peripheries of Mansalay and Bulalacao at the southeastern fringes of Mindoro Island. Panaligan has journeyed back and forth from Manila to Mindoro since then, capturing their images through community and individual immersions, fact-finding operat ions and peace missions.

Panaligan's documentation is relevant because of its historical value and from its political import. While documentary evidence related to the Mangyan tribes can be accessed through archives and libraries, existing visual evidence of Mangyan communities is sparse and rare. Panaligan engages in a cultural practice that charts and recreates their existence in collective and public memory, a kind of assurance against transience and forgetting.

The conscious political import of Panaligan's choice to present images from the margins is evident: as a recipient of the Asian Cultural Council Fellowship for Photography in 1999, Panaligan could h ave chosen to continue producing photographs of New York's grim realities. Or shots from his stints as a Manila-based freelance photojournalist. Yet the Mangyan photo-documentation project has remained a sustained and continuous endeavor for more than a decade, something that Panaligan committed himself to on a long-term basis.

The difference of Panaligan's images from that of existing documentation of different Mangyan tribes lies in their affinities with their subjects. Unlike colonial-age ethnographic studies and shots for foreign tourist consumption, the images are not voyeuristic tokens of the 'savage natives': taken as samples of the exotic and uncivilized under the lying assumption of cultural and material inferiority.

Instead, Panaligan's photographs are intimate and straightforward depictions of the Mangyans from their point of view. This can be inferred from the way the images are taken by the photographer: instead of staged frontal or profile poses of the Mangyans intended to document their details of clothing or physique, Panaligan unobtrusively captures spontaneous scenes and details from their day to day lives, setting his lens whenever and wherever his subjects feel comfortable in. The subjects behave naturally even as the lens captures their images, perhaps indicating a degree of familiarity or ease with the photographer's presence. This is a significant clue that points to the photographer's affinity for the Mangyan way of life and struggle, considering the persistence of pre-modern superstitions that believe cameras 'capture' a part of a person's soul and the grim paranoia over military surveillance through technological equipment, such as cameras and videos.

The photographs attest to how the Hanunoo Mangyans have adhered to their traditions, kept alive in the handicrafts and personal ornaments they produce by hand. Panaligan's images of Mangyan mothers and their children document the various communal crafts, such as basketry, which they engage in during their spare time between kaingin farming,child-rearing, and other chores. The photograph of a smiling Mangyan baby, for instance, is laden with the beaded bracelets, basketry,and textiles that Mangyan women have also started to produce as for commercial, as well as personal, consumption over the years.

Yet, the images also document surface manifestations of how Mangyans have been systematically isolated from the mainland economy, politics, and culture. A photograph of three tribes people wandering through a commercial area with a few handwoven wares remind the viewer of their struggle to survive in an economy and society that refuses to integrate their specific needs into the whole. This dislocation and juxtaposition of differing cultural and material differences is seen in a photograph of a young Mangyan girl at a hand loom, weaving their traditional blue and white textile while wearing a t-shirt with the acronym 'USA' (donated as a relief good or bought with precious cash, perhaps).

Images of Mangyan children populate Panaligan's works, perhaps as a metaphor for the emergence of a new generation of dispossessed national minorities who grow up in the ways of their ancestors but who are also systematically deprived of their basic rights and needs up to the present.

The image of a lone Mangyan child, crunched up in hunger before three empty calderos, sums up the stark reminders of the contrasting reality in Philippine society: in spite of all the state's proclamations of economic development and 'progress', fundamental economic and social problems continue to ravage national minorities such as the Mangyan tribes. The photographs, simple depictions of deprivation they may seem to be on the surface, attest to the painful persistence of problems that are so basic: hunger, landlessness, terror wrought by militarization and counter-insurgency campaigns, displacement by foreign multinational incursions into potential mining sites, lack of access to basic social services such as health care and education.

The photographs document the serenity and composure with which the Mangyans face their trials, but much more lies beneath the black and white images. These silently harbor the Mangyans testimonies of their perennial
problems with the lack of irrigation, and damaging floods when the river overflows during the rainy season. The images of Mangyan families eating together hide the reality that people in this part of the archipelago are forced to eat only once or twice a day. They subsist mainly on bananas and eat rice only once or twice a week. While their harvest of mangoes and bananas is abundant, the literal fruits of their labor remain underpriced. One sack containing around 300 mangoes can be easily haggled local traders for only thirty to forty pesos, for instance.

The images of Mangyan children foraging in foliage underscore the fact that they are not in school. The rare and far-flung schoolhouses in Mindoro's interior areas (where most Mangyans live) stop at the grade school level due to the chronic lack of teachers. Even then many children are forced to stop their studies because they have to find food or work for their families. Even medical and relief missions are rare, as compared to the seemingly non-existent government health facilities scattered in a few towns. Tuberculosis, long eradicated in developed countries, still remains a scourge in these parts. There is little electricity and potable water sources to speak of.

What the images do not depict are more sinister. These are rarely documented through photographs, but human rights violations by the military are common occurrences, especially even since Maj. Gen. Jovito Palparan was assigned to head the counter-insurgency campaign in the Southern Tagalog region, with special and bloodthirsty focus on Mindoro. Undocumented by photographs are the murders and tortures of Mangyans suspected to be New Peoples' Army (NPA) members or supporters. Soldiers actively recruited for CAFGUs among Mangyans, promising a few thousand pesos per month and a free coffin in return for their roles in the counter-insurgency campaigns.

Yet, at the same time, the photographs stand as a testament to their struggle against neocolonial and military exploitation and adherence to the values of their ancestors. Their traditional and communal values of cooperation and togetherness are seen in the photographs of Mangyan families having their humble meals together in their cramped and handmade huts. At a time when many other Filipino families are forced and encouraged by the state's labor export policies to live apart in order to survive and stay together, these images remind us that the Mangyans, among the most systematically deprived in this nation of the exploited, have no little choice but to find strength in unity and struggle.

In the end, it is the photograph of a Mangyan child wielding a bolo and struggling to get through through the thick foliage that provides the compelling metaphor for a peoples' will to survive, stay true to their ancestors, and fight amidst the hardships they face. Panaligan's photographs provide and revive our memories of the disenfranchised in our land, and in doing so, raise awareness of their conditions and struggle to survive. #

Images of Strife and Struggle: Photographs as History and Critique

The power of photojournalism lies in its ability to capture the struggles of its milieu: the narrative of tragedies and triumphs of a people, the chronicles of martyrdom and real newsmakers – all stark reminders of moving social realities.

Photography may glamorize and market people or products for profit, to beautify the ugly or to isolate what is common. But the medium has the potential to document social realism that today’s media technocrats and patrons of culture would rather forget, conceal, or completely ignore.

The latter is exactly what two ongoing photography exhibitions at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City do. The first exhibition, Mga Larawang Pilak: Pagdiriwang sa ika-25 na Anibersaryo ng Kilusang Mayo Uno (Images in Silver: Celebrating the 25th Anniversary of the May 1st Movement), runs from Oct. 2 to Nov. 27 at The Edge Gallery, Vargas Museum. The second, entitled Sharper than the Sword, an exhibition by young photojournalists Jes Aznar and Rafael Lerma, has been on exhibit at the College of Mass Communication in cooperation with the UP Journalism Club this month.

Photographs as history

Mga Larawang Pilak is offered in celebration of the KMU’s silver anniversary as one of the largest labor centers of the working class in Philippine history. Images of the movement and its struggles are sourced from photo archives of the KMU and Bagong Alyansang Makabayan (Bayan or New Patriotic Alliance), Rene Dilan of Manila Times, Leo Esclanda of Pinoy Weekly, and freelance photographers Jun Resureccion and Peter Alvarez.

Departing from the usual historical timeline used in most photo exhibits, the photographs in Mga Larawang Pilak are shown according to themes and concepts that capture the KMU’s historical struggle, as illustrated in Protesta (Protest), Sulong (Advance or Onward). Bayani (Hero/ine). Martir (Martyr), Kristo (Christ), Pagtatag (Founding, or Strengthening, depending on its use), Welga (Strike) and Mayo Uno (May 1).

This device draws the viewer's attention not on the photographs as objects to reflect on per se but on the themes represented and the messages behind the images. Somehow, despite limitations of space and resources, the photographs embody the dynamism, pains and complexities that have characterized the workers’ movement for a quarter of a century now.

The photographers are anonymous - perhaps to underscore the fact that they are after all part of a larger movement. On the other hand, a more detailed historical time line may be useful for context-building among audiences, particularly for the youths who were not yet even born when the KMU was founded and who were probably still in elementary school when EDSA 2 came around.

While the KMU traces its historical roots to the revolutionary Katipunan in 1892 and the anti-imperialist Union Obrera Democratica in 1902, its formal origins are chronicled in the exhibition. The photograph Pagtatag ng KMU depicts a front-seat scene at its founding ceremonies on May 1, 1980, before an audience of 30,000 at the Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City. Another photograph documents a scene shown in the ceremonies where Ka Amado Hernandez, Ka Bert Olalia, and Jose Maria Sison share space in the picture plane.

In the exhibition, the semiotic significance of the theme Pagtatag takes on a double meaning. Pagtatag denotes not only the founding of the KMU but its historical “strengthening” as well amid the dictatorial repression and the rift in the Philippine workers movement that the KMU faced at that time.

This advancement in each decade of struggle is also displayed in the theme Sulong with vivid photographs exemplifying how the KMU weathered every obstacle and trial through militancy and solidarity. This spirit breathes life into the struggle and keeps the fire burning - a metaphor captured in one image where urban poor woman leader and Anakpawis (toiling masses) Party List Vice-President Carmen “Nanay Mameng” Deunida bends over to lit a candle, while a placard with the slogan “Imperyalismo, Ibagsak!” (Down with Imperialism) is strategically positioned behind her.

The collective strength and resistance of the Filipino working class against their exploiters is dramatized in the traditional Mayo Uno (May 1) rallies. The efforts of cultural workers - artists, writers, actors, singers, photographers - to pay tribute to the working class are documented in the images of the May 1, 2005 rally at the Liwasang Bonifacio (or Bonifacio Freedom Park). This is particularly illustrated in the Mayo Uno 2005 Cultural Presentation, where the painted tableau of the workers united against the enemy (a two-dimensional street mural serving as the backdrop of the entire program) merges with an actual performance. This representation of the action onstage becomes a site where the painted image and live performance intersect.

In the context of continuing local elite and foreign domination, Protesta (Protest) has generally characterized the KMU’s mass actions for societal change. The exhibit features several historical issues and campaigns for which the workers have taken to the barricades and front lines: Sahod Itaas, the protracted struggle for a P125 across-the-board nationwide wage increase since 1999, the opposition to deregulation-borne oil price increases, and the struggle for the removal of the Marcos dictatorship and EDSA 2 protests against former President Joseph Estrada.

The welga (workers’ strike), as the exhibition implies, historically remains the workers’ most potent defense against capitalist exploitation. This collective resistance that is encapsulated in a 1902 photo is carried up to the present in the kilusang welga (strike movement) that highlights contemporary Philippine politics. One photograph testifies how in 1982 army tanks were used to block columns of 13,000 workers marching from the Bataan Export Processing Zone (BEPZ) to Samal in Bataan.

Photographs as critique

The long struggle for labor rights has also yielded its own breed of Bayani (Hero/ine). The photograph captioned Si Ka Bert at Ka Bel, Katabi ang Opisyal ng militar na umaresto sa kanila (Comrades Bert and Bel, beside military official who arrested them) is a grim reminder of how, on the eve of the Marcos state visit to the U.S., successive raids on offices of progressive organizations ended in the arrest of labor union leaders, including Felixberto Olalia and former KMU Chairperson Crispin Beltran.

Hanggang sa Huling Hantungan ni Ka Lando Olalia, reminds us of how Ka Bert Olalia’s son and his companion Leonor Ay-ay were abducted by military agents in November 1986, then tortured before they were brutally killed. Olalia’s and Leonor’s death did not diminish the valour that they showed while alive, as attested to by the tears and rage of more than half a million mourners at their funeral march.

As martial law-like political suppression of progressive workers continues up to the present, Martir (martyr) has become common word in the movement's vocabulary. The photograph taken at the Hacienda Luisita on Nov. 16, 2004 shows people carrying the blood-soaked and barely-conscious farmworker and Hacienda Luisita Incorporated “stockholder” Jesus Laza, one of the seven strikers killed that day.

For a country where Catholicism remains a dominant cultural influence, the sufferings of Christ are often transposed as metaphors for the oppression and hardship borne by workers. Kristo represents photographs of a worker during the Artex Strike in 1984 in the image of Christ's Calvary. Shod of his slippers and shirt in the dispersal, he struggles on the ground while being whacked by truncheon-wielding police with shields and helmets. The photographs are also composed in the shape of a cross, perhaps signifying the “Cross” that the worker-Christs have to bear in order to eventually liberate the masses from their chains.

Finally, Mga Larawang Pilak pays tribute to Diosdado “Ka Fort” Fortuna, Nestle union President and Anakpawis Southern Tagalog Chairperson, who was murdered while on his way home last Sept. 22, a day after the Ayala rally in protest against the creeping martial law. Bayani Ka Pangulong Fort features twin images of Ka Fort in a single photograph while still alive; one image shows him carrying a huge streamer demanding a stop to the political killings.

Sharper than the Sword

Meanwhile, more contemporary images of dissent can be found at the other end of the university’s Academic Oval at the College of Mass Communication, in the two-person exhibition entitled Sharper than the Sword, by Aznar and Lerma. The exhibit was previously hung at the Oarhouse along Adriatico Street in Malate last month.

As with the photographs in Mga Larawang Pilak, the images in Sharper are the products of Aznar and Lerma's immersions and excursions to the picket lines of the General Milling Corporation (GMC) and the Hacienda Luisita, Incorporated (HLI) in Tarlac, respectively. The images juxtapose scenes from two harsh dispersals in separate sites, happening within a month or so of each other (the HLI photos were taken in November 2004, the GMC photos in October 2004).

Aznar ventures into the picket lines of Hacienda Luisita in Tarlac, the largest sugar mill in Luzon, and records visual vignettes from day-to-day scenes of thousands of striking farmworkers at the picket lines. While the Luisita massacre brought the lens of TV cameras to the site of the strike for a time, Aznar goes one step further by documenting the strike from the intimate point of view of one interacting with the workers, one who they will gladly let in their ranks and share their stories of hope amidst hardship and death threats.

On the other hand, Lerma's images maximize the impact of black-and-white photography; stark contrasts between black and white tend to capture the raw tension and air of confrontation with more drama and depth.

The images are also provocative in their ability to capture the violence unleashed by state and capitalist forces at the picket lines. In such instances, the camera becomes a potent weapon in documenting truth amidst deception, attesting to the rising fascism against workers that rears its head every now and then.

“Incomplete”

As with all visual histories, the images documented in Mga Larawang Pilak and Sharper than the Sword are moving and significant but incomplete. “Incomplete” because no amount of hours spent contemplating these representations - moving and excellent as they are - can ever fully approximate the sights, sounds, smells, and sentiments of being immersed in the struggle of society's basic sectors.

The paradox of the photographs' silence is that they may draw the viewer farther from the reality even as they document the scene – the rancid smell of blood and gunpowder, the crunch of truncheons on bone and the thousands-strong chants and slogans, the dust, heat, and fatigue. The viewer however cannot resist the challenge to go beyond the images that the cameras capture and to experience them in real life.

When photojournalists transcend their occupation of using the lens just to observe or break the news and dare step into the workers’ front lines, their images can rouse the viewer out of detached contemplation.

(www.bulatlat.com, oct. 16-22 issue).
--photograph above courtesy of raffy lerma