Strengthening Power From Below PPA Resilience

Strengthening
power from below:

Stories of resilience
from the Philippines
November 2015
Contact
Christian Aid Philippines
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Christian Aid is a Christian organization that insists the
Philippines
world can and must be swiftly changed to one where
Telephone: +632 441-1117; 4265921 to 23
everyone can live a full life, free from poverty.
christianaid.org.uk/thephilippines
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causes of poverty, striving to achieve equality, dignity
and freedom for all, regardless of faith or nationality. We
are part of a wider movement for social justice.
We provide urgent, practical and effective assistance

where need is great, tackling the effects of poverty as
well as its root causes.
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Cover photo: A carpenter rebuilds a temporary house as a bulldozer expands a boulevard
Company no. 426928. The Christian Aid name and logo are trademarks of Christian Aid. Christian Aid is a key member of ACT Alliance. © Christian Aid August 2015 15-J4366
that cuts through a Muslim informal settlement in Pagadian City. (Allan Vera)
Contents
List of acronyms 4
Introduction: Empowering communities towards resilience 5
1 Putting civil society and grassroots voices in spaces of governance 9
Claiming rights by amplifying community voice: FORGE 10

Community voices in national housing negotiations: PHILSSA and AKKMA 11
Civil society voices in global and national climate change negotiations: AK 13
2 Engaging civil society networks for building resilience 15
3 Recasting community organising for resilience 19
Rebuilding Mindanao through stewardship and interfaith work: SPI and UFS 20
Changing mindsets, transforming lives: Coastal CORE 23
Putting the spotlight on the family: FORGE 25
4 Turning markets into channels for resilience 27
Weaving their way through resilience: UPA and KABALIKAT 27

Reinforcing consolidators to uphold community resilience: Philnet 29
5 Accessing public finance for resilience building 32
Directing people’s funds towards coastal resource preservation: Coastal CORE 33

Claiming the nation’s purse for building resilience: SWP and ABI 34
6 Protecting the environment to build resilient communities 38
People’s movement against mining: ATM 38

Organising for our land: RWAN and MOFA 41
7 Learning for resilience 45
Endnotes 49
3
List of acronyms
ABI Alternative Budget Initiative

ACED Advancing CSO Engagement in DRRM-CCA
AK Aksyon Klima
AKKMA Action for Preparedness to Calamities and Climate Change
ATM Alyansa Tigil Mina
BUB bottom-up budgeting
CCA climate change adaptation
CODE-NGO Caucus of Development NGO Networks
CRFS climate resiliency field school
DRRM disaster risk reduction and management
FDI family development intervention
FORGE Fellowship for Organizing Endeavors
FPIC free and prior informed consent
MDG Millennium Development Goals
MinLand Mindanao Land Foundation
MOFA Matabao Organic Farmers Association
NCIP National Commission on Indigenous People
NGO non-governmental organisation
PCA Philippine Coconut Authority
PhilDHRRA Philippine Partnership for the Development of Human Resources in Rural Areas
Philnet Philippine Network for Rural Democratization and Development
PHILSSA Partnership of Philippine Support Service Agencies
PVCA Participatory Vulnerability and Capacity Assessment
RWAN Rice Watch and Action Network
SPI Socio-Pastoral Institute
SWP Social Watch Philippines
TULHOA Tarkum Upper Laguerta Homeowners Association
UFS Ummah Fi Salam
UPA Urban Poor Associates
WMC Western Mining Corporation
4
Introduction:
Empowering communities
towards resilience
Poverty is complex. Its causes are systemic, often intertwined and span time. It is rooted in the past,
exists in the present and is imminent in risks that have yet to arise. Poverty goes beyond external risks,
such as material deprivation, poor governance, inequality and unfair markets, and includes internal
risks, such as humiliation, lack of voice and confidence, powerlessness and physical weaknesses.
At its core are the lack or misuse of power and unequal power relations within and among
countries, groups and individuals. For Christian Aid, therefore, ‘poverty is disempowerment and
the injustices that result [from it].’1
The nature of risks varies. Risks may be short-term or long-term; hidden or visible; sudden or
slowly unfolding. They also differ across ecosystems. The risks faced by small islands may
not necessarily be the same as those confronting uplands and urban areas. New risks emerge,
while present risks constantly evolve as these interact with one another. Risks affect vulnerable
communities and individuals in various ways, but the hardest hit are the most vulnerable, including
indigenous communities, the marginalised urban poor and upland communities living in remote
areas with distinct vulnerabilities.
The Philippines reflects the complexity of a multi-risk environment. It is exposed to multiple natural
and physical hazards, as it lies just above the equator along the Pacific Ring of Fire, where many of
the earth’s typhoons, volcanic eruptions and earthquakes occur. Systemic and internal risks also
pose a threat to the development of its people. Centuries-old conflict in the southern Philippines
between Moro (Muslims and indigenous people) and other faiths has marginalised the Moro and
embedded feelings of resentment and isolation among them. Unfair market policies and lack of
confidence have prevented small-scale Philippine producers from actively participating in the market
and claiming their fair share of its benefits. The government’s push for corporate-led development
of target economic investment areas and the powerlessness of indigenous communities to protect
their ancestral domain jeopardise the country’s remaining farmlands and forestlands. Powerful
elites continue to have a stronghold over national policies and decision-making spaces, stifling
grassroots voices and limiting their opportunities to participate and influence these spaces.
The usual response of poor people to these risks revolves around survival or subsistence,
especially since they have limited or no options, voice and opportunities to address the threats
they are facing and reduce their vulnerability. Others have become resigned to their situation,
lacking hope that their lives will improve, especially when they have been embroiled in a long
history of neglect and abuse.
The uncertainties arising from past, present and future threats increase the urgency to put an end
to power imbalances and transform structures, systems and internal vulnerabilities that continue
to disempower poor people. Thus, ‘the question is no longer whether change is needed but what
form that change must take.’2
Achieving such power transformation necessitates an approach that aims to help poor communities
not only survive and subsist but also thrive. It involves empowering communities to be resilient to
the risks brought about by a changing and challenging environment. This approach is not merely
confined to building assets and diversifying income but further seeks to address external and
internal causes of poverty and dynamic shocks and stress from the environment.
5
Building resilient communities entails a convergence of approaches that goes beyond disaster
risk reduction and climate change adaptation to include community organising, livelihoods
development, gender equality and accountable governance. Solely focusing on disaster
preparedness is not sufficient to reduce people’s vulnerability to more systemic political, social
and economic risks. In the same way, development work assumes that poverty occurs in a
fixed setting and is therefore unable to anticipate changes brought about by hazards. In short,
‘promoting an insecure livelihood is no better than protecting an inadequate one.’3
Christian Aid blends all of these strategies in its resilient livelihoods framework, which is intended
to guide vulnerable communities, as well as the organisations working with them, in understanding
and managing the risks they are facing and finding ways to adapt to a seemingly unstable
environment. A resilient livelihood, therefore, is ‘one that enables people to anticipate, organise
for, and adapt to, change.’4 To achieve this, poor communities should be able to transform the
way they make a living into one that could withstand the effects of uncertainties and risks, both
known and unknown. They must have options and safeguards that allow them to adapt and
maximise opportunities to improve their lives and reduce their vulnerability to shocks. A family
that is dependent mainly on farming for income is easily weakened by pressures from drought
and extreme, unpredictable weather changes unless it has crop insurance from government,
support groups to provide technical inputs, or savings to invest in crop protection from hazards.
Spare assets or ‘buffers’ are important, whether they are tangible, such as organic farming
inputs and savings, or intangible, such as broad social capital, good health and strong self-
identity, making the people better equipped to recover from the impact and adapt to their new
environment. Vulnerable communities must also have a plan that takes into account anticipated
threats, enabling them to handle the impact on their lives and livelihoods and recover immediately.
Such plans would have to be adjusted through regular analyses of the changing dynamics of
these threats.
Poor communities must have a fair and predictable share of the value of their work, not only
because this is essential for their basic needs, but because it is their right as human beings. New
models of economic development and new ways of influencing the market chain are needed to
create greater opportunities for them to thrive. Apart from influencing the market to be pro-poor,
people’s livelihoods must not compromise people’s health and well-being and natural and social
resources. A livelihood activity that earns money but puts people’s lives at risk will not lead to
resilience.
Christian Aid recognises that the need to pay attention to internal risks that impede the progress
of poor communities is as important as addressing external risks. It believes in harnessing the
‘power within’ by strengthening the voice of poor communities to claim their rights and make
duty bearers accountable to them. People must be mobilised to act collectively on critical issues
affecting them and become responsible for their own development. Christian Aid helps them
envision not just a life of subsistence and survival, but a life with dignity as well as personal,
economic, political and social freedoms.
All these elements of Christian Aid’s resilience livelihoods framework are crystallised in the
stories of its partners in the Philippines. Chapter 1 presents how the Partnership of Philippine
Support Service Agencies (PHILSSA), Fellowship for Organizing Endeavors (FORGE) and Aksyon
Klima (AK; ‘Action for Climate’) organised grassroots communities and civil society organisations
to generate collective power that would make their minority voices be heard in governance
spaces. This led them to tilt the power imbalance in these spaces and influence critical decisions
that have an impact on them.
6 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Chapter 2 shows the value of another collective initiative – civil society networks – in extending
geographical and sectoral reach, scaling up advocacies and serving as a learning hub. The
Caucus of Development NGO Networks (CODE-NGO) changed its practice and capitalised on its
hierarchy and collective expertise and experience to address the risks faced by its members and
the communities they are serving.
In Chapter 3, the stories of Socio-Pastoral Institute (SPI), Coastal CORE, Inc. (Coastal CORE) and
FORGE recognise the value of collective power and its positive gains to the communities, yet at
the same time understand that, in many cases, social gains are not felt or enjoyed by families and
individuals. Filling in the gaps of the traditional community organising approach, SPI brought back
the value of stewardship and harnessed the potential of interfaith work to transform individuals,
families and the community. Coastal CORE addressed the isolation of a marginalised indigenous
group by tapping its power within to access resources and maximise the available opportunities.
FORGE focused on healing families as a strategy in building the resilience of communities.
The capacity to adapt and respond to risks is evident not only in the partners’ community
organising strategies, but also in how they intervened in the market chain and collaborated with
large commercial players to ensure livelihood stability for the people. Chapter 4 tells how the
Philippine Network for Rural Democratization and Development (Philnet) introduced innovations
to reduce the pressure and risks faced by woman weavers in marketing their product. Urban
Poor Associates (UPA) helped transform urban poor communities from weak forces in the market
to strong and respected minority players. The work of Philnet and UPA enabled grassroots
communities to obtain their fair share for their labour and products and to protect themselves
and their families from immediate and long-term threats.
Christian Aid partners in the Philippines have also transformed power relationships in the country’s
public finances. Chapter 5 explains how Coastal CORE and Social Watch Philippines/Alternative
Budget Initiative (SWP/ABI) used their good relationship with the government to advocate people’s
voices in national and local budget planning, making these processes responsive to the people’s
needs. What used to be mainly the domain of government leaders, economists and financial
analysts has become a space where people could participate to claim their rights and make the
duty bearers accountable for the decisions they make.
In the pursuit of economic growth, the environment and people’s health are often sacrificed.
Chapter 6 describes the climate resiliency field school (CRFS), which Rice Watch and Action
Network (RWAN) introduced after recognising the combined risks posed by extreme weather
changes and synthetic farm inputs on the land and health of small-scale farmers. The school
emphasised the importance of strong farmers’ organisations in accessing government support
programmes. Through the CRFS, the vulnerability of small-scale farmers to climate change was
reduced and their capacity to voice their farming concerns to the government was strengthened.
Alyansa Tigil Mina (ATM; ‘Alliance to Stop Mining’) stood up for the cause of an indigenous group
whose lives and land were threatened by the operations of an influential mining company. The
experience of RWAN and ATM illustrates how thriving and resilient livelihoods could enhance, not
compromise, the environment and people’s well-being.
The stories of Christian Aid partners in the Philippines demonstrate how learning is an essential
core element of adaptability. Learning cuts across all the elements of the resilient livelihoods
framework. The changing risk scenario and the uncertainty it brings require groups to challenge
their practices and innovate their strategies, taking into account the uncertain, so that they
could enhance the communities’ adaptability and responsiveness. Chapter 7 shares the story of
Introduction: Empowering communities towards resilience 7

Mindanao Land Foundation (MinLand) and how it imbibed a culture of learning in helping urban
poor communities manage the multiple risks threatening them.
No single solution fits all problems. Depending on the context — the changes and complexity of
risks — today’s solutions may not be applicable the following day. By enabling poor communities
to analyse and understand the risks they are facing, they can anticipate and proactively address
them, subsequently altering their actions to suit the prevailing conditions. In time, they will regain
control of their lives. Since resilience looks at poverty in an ever-changing context, it will always
be a work in progress and never a project.
This book is a compilation of stories from the ground presenting how Christian Aid and its
partners have assisted communities in handling shocks and pressures and taking steps to thrive
and live dignified lives. The strategies and ideas shown here are meant to guide and inspire others
to pursue or even challenge the framework. What remains clear is the vision of Christian Aid to
help individuals and communities gain ‘the power … to live with dignity, responding successfully
to disasters and the opportunities and risks that they face.’5

1
Putting civil society and grassroots
voices in spaces of governance
Power imbalances – and the institutions and structures that perpetuate them – are difficult to
change. Dominant elites will exert their influence and use their resources relentlessly to maintain
the status quo of power and push weak communities into deep poverty. This is where community
organising becomes critical. People who are not unified may be unable to challenge a system or
an institution, an individual or a group that oppresses or ignores them. But when they organise
themselves, arrive at a consensus and act collectively to challenge the power imbalance, the
probability of realising their desired change is greater. Community organising, therefore, goes
beyond simply mobilising people or registering organisations. It involves constant mentoring and
guidance, facilitation and support to enable the local people to adapt and respond to the risks
posed by systems or institutions and create a path for their empowerment. Grassroots and non-
governmental organisations (NGOs) working together can help transform a minority voice into a
strong, unified one that can potentially influence and direct institutionalised processes to work
for the benefit of poor communities.
Poor people are vulnerable because they are exposed to external and internal risks that limit their
space and options for improvement. These risks emerge from ‘structural sins’ that perpetuate
and entrench discrimination and feelings of powerlessness and discouragement among poor
communities. (The term ‘sin’ is used here to emphasise the cumulative effect of generations
of systems and policies that promote injustice, and the accountability of the larger community,
making it a collective sin.) They are also borne out of structural and institutional weaknesses
that allow powerful groups and elites to unjustly control resources and people’s assets. Powerful
individuals and groups are able to manipulate structures and institutions to seize more benefits
from government services and exert their influence over decision and policy making processes,
hindering chances of weaker groups to live a life with dignity.
Limited, non-functioning government structures that serve the interests of those in power aggravate
poor people’s vulnerability and can disrupt whatever progress they have achieved in securing
better lives for themselves. Opportunities for people’s organisations and grassroots communities
to participate in crucial policy making processes that affect their lives are lacking or blocked by
groups with vested interests. The state’s bureaucratic system hinders the government’s effective
delivery of basic social services. Spaces for civil society groups to influence national development
plans and budgets are constricted or dominated by a few influential individuals and groups.
While institutions and structures are largely accountable for creating risks and increasing
vulnerability for many, they are not the sole cause and determinant of poverty. People’s ‘agency’
(that is, their individual power to change and influence structures and institutions) can come
into play. The cases below show that people, with help from support groups, can act on
opportunities and manoeuvre around these institutions and structures to advance their claims.
Power relationships that have been unfavourable to poor communities can be transformed by
empowering grassroots organisations to influence actions and decisions that have an impact on
the public interest.
The cases in this chapter present how communities must not be simply resigned to their situation
of vulnerability and instead do something to change it by demanding and effecting reforms in the
system and tapping their power from within. What needs to be highlighted is the urgency and
9
necessity for NGOs and grassroots communities to empower
and organise themselves and collectively study the power
relationships closely and seize opportunities for advancing their
claims.
Claiming rights by amplifying

commmunity voice: FORGE
When 333 informal settler families from different parts of Cebu
City were relocated to Sitio Laguerta in Barangay Busay, their
living conditions changed, but did not necessarily improve.
While they were spared the usual coastal hazards, they became
vulnerable to landslides, falling rocks and fire. Basic social
services and infrastructure were lacking. They had difficulty
in getting electricity and resorted to costly illegal connections.
Transportation was a problem, since only motorbikes for rent –
shared by up to five passengers – could traverse rough roads,
cross a creek and climb a steep slope to the settlement.
Carlito Amancio of UP LARGE,
Moreover, some parts of the roads were in poor condition and
others were located in privately owned subdivisions, forcing a federation of four urban
residents to take long diversions to reach school and the city poor organizations, presents
centre. the petition to the local city
government of Cebu City to
People still identified strongly with their previous communities. improve essential services in
Many would go to their areas of origin for livelihood and to vote. the Laguerta Resettlement.
The families maintained their former social ties and structures, (Allan Vera)
including their membership in their respective homeowner
associations (Tarcom Upper Laguerta Homeowners Association [TULHOA], Tabarno Homeowners
Association [TAHAS], Upper Laguerta Busay Homeowners Association [ULBHOA] and Sitio
Legacy Community Homeowners Association [SILCHA]). These associations were responsible
for making and enforcing rules in a community. Each of them had its own agenda, but this was
not necessarily shared by the other associations. The people were organised, yet their voice was
fragmented. They were immaterial to the barangay government, since they were not considered
to be constituents.
To unify the four associations to work towards common concerns and agenda, FORGE initiated a
Participatory Vulnerability and Capacity Assessment (PVCA), which was a community-orientated,
rather than an organisation-orientated, activity. A community-based emergency response team
called LEADERS was subsequently formed, with members from the four associations. Community
issues and risks were identified and prioritised. Some of the issues included seeking access
to private roads, asking the government to build roads and a bridge, and obtaining their own
electric connection. The members recognised that linking their different advocacy agendas (land
tenure, basic social services, housing needs, livelihoods) to disaster risk reduction was a non-
controversial approach to gain the support of different interest groups.
FORGE facilitated study sessions to guide people in what government level and offices had
mandate over which issues; what policies could be invoked; what policy proposals could be
presented to which office; which officials could champion their cause; and who were their
political allies and rivals. The members learned how to protect their advocacy agenda against
clashing political parties in the city. The leaders’ negotiating skills were honed through tactics

sessions, which included role-playing exercises that made the leaders think how to respond to
different risk scenarios.
TAHAS officers engaged in dialogue with the mayor and vice-mayor to negotiate the opening of
access roads. TULHOA talked to subdivision homeowners and companies that would be affected
by this road project, requesting them to allow bulldozers to pass through their areas. It also
approached the electric company, subdivision homeowner associations and NGOs to arrange
their own electric connection. LEADERS kept its identified champion in the city council updated
on progress so that he could bring the community’s concerns to city offices and give the group
advice on strategies moving forward. FORGE was aware that its role was only to support and
provide linkages to LEADERS, allowing the group to be at the forefront of negotiations.
Two years later, the residents of Laguerta finally have their road, as the once-private roads are
now open for them to use. Transportation has become easier, allowing people to market their
goods at a lesser cost and reach hospitals sooner. Thirty electric posts have been installed,
benefiting 170 families. There is now less risk of fire because the illegal connections have been
removed. With a reliable source of electricity, people no longer have to pay hefty sums to private
households and children are able to study at night. When a fire broke out recently, firefighters
were able to reach the site on time.
The approach used by FORGE amplified the voice of the urban poor whose members were
previously fragmented and not on good terms with the barangay government. Where barangay
officials were open to dialogue and strong grassroots organisations were present, FORGE focused
its support on building community capacity for participatory local governance processes.
In other cases, when the local government requested support in new communities, FORGE looked
for existing community organisations to strengthen, in order to ensure the sustainability of their
engagement with the local government even after FORGE had left the area. FORGE adapts its
community organising strategy to the capacity of the grassroots sector and the political landscape.
Community voices in national housing negotiations: PHILSSA and AKKMA

We often witness scenes of urban
informal settler families violently
clashing with the city police
and demolition teams during
eviction operations. More often
than not, these incidents end
in casualties, family separation,
forced transfer of people to
another unsafe area and strained
relationships between the
government and the people. It is
a failed cause for both groups,
with the government failing to
address the root cause of the
urban poor’s tenure problems Representatives of urban poor families from various
and relocated people losing organisations affected by typhoon Ketsana protest against the
valuable physical, social and planned haphazard distant relocation plans of the Quezon City
economic assets. government. (Glady Serrano)
1: Putting civil society and grassroots voices in spaces of governance 11

When tropical storm Ketsana hit major urban cities of Metro Manila in 2009, the precarious
living conditions of families living near waterways caught worldwide attention, with national
and international news highlighting the ineptness of the government’s disaster response. The
government, mandated by the Urban Development and Housing Act of 1992, implemented a
massive distant relocation of all informal settler families living in high-risk areas. This knee-jerk
reaction was a top-driven decision made without any consultation with the families and their
support groups. Stories of post-disaster relocation and displacement of poor communities from
their land abound. Many of these relocations had been justified using the language and principles
of disaster risk reduction. However, new risks have emerged as climate change is being used to
rationalise the relocation of high-risk communities. But relocation should be recommended with
caution, since it could have a negative impact, considering the other risks that come into play,
such as people’s collective trauma and weakness, existing land conflicts and so on.6
Partnership of Philippine Support Service Agencies (PHILSSA) is a network of NGOs working

to empower poor communities, especially in urban areas. It knew the government’s directive
would increase the vulnerability of families, as many relocation sites were lacking in basic social
infrastructure and services and were too distant from people’s livelihood sources. Past experiences
had proven that preventing eviction by colliding head-on with government would not dissuade
the latter from pursuing what it had been tasked to do. Neither would communities leave their
homes without a proper resettlement site. PHILSSA thus had to adjust its strategy in engaging
the government and communities by promoting dialogue and people’s planning processes to
discuss proposals, challenge them and hopefully arrive at a mutual agreement.
With support from Christian Aid, PHILSSA facilitated the formation of Action for Preparedness
to Calamities and Climate Change (AKKMA), a network of urban poor and small fisherfolk
organisations in Metro Manila and adjacent provinces. This network strives to address eviction
threats and danger areas by promoting people planning, dialogue with government and community
plan proposals. AKKMA proposals do not only involve addressing tenurial security, but also
include integrated and holistic plans for safe and secure settlements for informal settler families,
sustainable livelihoods, and social services and safeguards.
Together with PHILSSA and AKKMA, community leaders discussed and negotiated with
government their alternative settlement and housing proposals. Through such dialogue and
advocacies, opportunities were opened for the people to pursue engagement with government
agencies and officials both at the national and local levels. As a result, the president promised
PHP50bn (US$1.1bn) spread over five years to finance high-density social housing projects for
informal settler families living in waterways and other danger areas in Metro Manila. Community
proposals to access the fund were submitted to government agencies, such as the Social
Housing Finance Corporation and National Housing Authority, which then discussed, studied and
addressed technical and legal issues. An expanded space for discussion, negotiation and joint
planning was thus created where the informal settler families could bring their demands to the
table and the government would identify the next steps with them.
Aware of their unsafe conditions, the families had been negotiating either on-site solutions or
near-city relocation. But many of their proposals now consider high-density housing and usufruct
arrangements after recognising the limited availability and high prices of land for social housing
in-city or near-city. This reflects a change in the attitude and practices of the urban poor. Where
they used to be highly confrontational when talking about relocation, now they sit down and
listen to government, knowing that the issue is not housing alone, but also involves disaster risk
reduction. With this softened stance, the community is open to dialogue and the possibility of

relocation. Their ability to speak the language of disaster risk reduction enables them to build their
argument if they do not accept the relocation plan: Why remove us from a fire-prone area if you
will just bring us to a flood-prone area? In the same way, the government, whose previous plans
only considered massive distant relocations, also softened its position and agreed to consider
and support alternative long-term housing solutions. Through the joint efforts of government,
communities and NGOs, many of the community proposals aimed at providing safe and secure
settlements for the affected vulnerable families and communities are being pushed forward.
As a result of its engagements and advocacies, AKKMA reached out to other communities
with the same concerns about disaster risk reduction and management and climate change
adaptation, especially safe and secure settlements. It has formed affiliate coalitions in six other
regions of the country.
Informal settler families now have a stronger voice and control over processes and decisions that
affect their lives, unlike their situation prior to 2009. A shift in the power relationship has seen
the government recognising and respecting informal settler families as a rational, engaging and
representative formation. The burden of risks no longer falls disproportionately on poor people
but is shared and redistributed, as the government accepts the people’s housing plan, allocates
funds for its implementation and opens spaces for dialogue with the people.
Civil society voices in global and national climate change negotiations: AK

Prior to 2008, civil society organisations were on the sidelines of climate change negotiations,
acting as observers of the process and advisers to the delegation. The Philippine Government’s
position in global climate change negotiations under the United Nations Framework Convention
on Climate Change (UNFCCC) was also unclear. In 2008, civil society organisations in the
Philippines decided to form a network called Aksyon Klima Pilipinas (AK; ‘Action for Climate’)
that would monitor the UNFCCC negotiations and the country’s laws on climate change. In
efforts to influence the negotiations, AK drafted its own position, in consultation with scientists,
policy makers, civil society and grassroots communities, and submitted it to the government.
This eventually became the backbone of the Philippine position at the 15th Conference of the
Parties in Copenhagen in 2009.
Soon after, the government gave AK positions in the negotiation team after recognising civil
society’s competence and expertise in climate change narratives. From the start, AK had been
promoting the creation of spaces for civil society organisations to be a part of the national
delegation and be involved in crafting government’s position in global climate change negotiations.
It was intent on bringing the perspectives of people most threatened by climate risks into these
spaces. This would allow the people to share power in national decision-making processes and
give voice to the voiceless in global climate change negotiations that had been traditionally
dominated by powerful states.
Knowing government’s predisposition to top-down policy making, AK made it clear to the

government early on its intention of being a part of national climate change policy-making
processes in order to ensure the policies would benefit the communities. It had wanted to
contribute to the formulation of the Climate Change Act of 2009, but it was unable to, as the
law was hurriedly drafted and approved by Congress for political reasons. As a result, the law
had several gaps, notable of which was its lack of a financial mechanism. Still determined to
influence the policies, AK became heavily involved in developing the law’s implementing rules
and regulations called the National Climate Change Action Plan, which serves as the country’s
1: Putting civil society and grassroots voices in spaces of governance 13

blueprint for climate action until 2028. It was able to infuse the action plan with evidence and
perspectives from the grassroots level and provide a climate lens for policies at the national level.
Through AK, civil society organisations also secured a permanent position in the Climate Change
Commission, the government body tasked to oversee and manage climate change concerns and
negotiations in the country.
When discourse on climate justice began, AK and its members took the chance to advocate a
state mechanism that would enable the country to accept climate funding. Studying the country’s
bureaucratic system, it anticipated that government agencies would scramble to control the
funds, which could make it difficult for civil society organisations and grassroots communities
to access them. Thus, when the idea to legislate a People’s Survival Fund emerged, AK made
sure civil society organisations would lead the process to prevent the law from becoming top-
down and influenced by dominant political interests. The entire law was debated, drafted and
lobbied by civil society. When it was ratified, government allocated PHP1bn (US$21.8m) for its
implementation in 2015. It was a major breakthrough for AK, whose main campaign was for
government to allocate a budget over and above the income of local governments that would
be used to build the resilience of vulnerable communities. Communities and civil society no
longer had to wait for climate funding from developed countries to commence climate change
plans. Civil society scored another achievement when it was allocated an influential post as
member of the People’s Survival Fund board. This was a big step forward for climate change
advocates, as they could push local government offices to prioritise climate change initiatives in
their development plans and budget.
Gaining equal positions of power in national decision-making processes and having democratic
control over state legal instruments have allowed civil society to overcome institutional forces
that lock in vulnerability to many poor people and security to a few. AK admits that building the
resilience of communities through climate change negotiations at the international and national
levels has been challenging. Pressure from developed countries to constrain the space of civil
society organisations in global discussions on climate justice has been strong and consistent since
the start of negotiations. The Philippine Government sometimes yields to pressure by shifting back
the role of civil society to that of adviser. Some state actors likewise feel civil society is strongly
directing the country’s position in the negotiations. Faced with these challenges, AK explores
alternative negotiation routes, such as technical working groups, to maintain its involvement.
From working on the sidelines, AK has been able to create and recreate spaces for civil society
to influence the national position in global climate change negotiations where it is able to raise
the concerns of communities vulnerable to climate risks. It shares control of state legal policies,
directing these to benefit grassroots communities. It continues to call for climate action at the
national level and climate justice at the international level. Climate change negotiations are a highly
political process that may result in either maintaining or reinforcing the existing hegemony of
dominant countries and control of democratic space by national elites. AK’s work has challenged
these institutional and relational risks by giving vulnerable communities the space and legal
muscle to face, manage and thrive amidst these risks. Although faced with considerable pressure
to reduce its participation in global negotiations, AK continues to protect civil society’s space
in the national governance system, giving voice to the voiceless. With such influence, however,
how will AK ensure that civil society representatives will not get ‘drunk’ with the power they
have? How will AK guarantee that they will remain accountable to their constituency?

2
Engaging civil society networks for
building resilience
Chapter 1 demonstrated how organising communities could significantly change power imbalances
perpetuated by dominant institutions and structures and reinforced by internal weaknesses and
vulnerabilities of grassroots communities. This chapter looks into another form of organising
and collective – the civil society network – and how it is able to challenge unequal power
relationships.
Civil society networks are of different types. Some are composed of like-minded groups that
find solidarity in their aspiration, advocacy and practice. As in organising communities, network
members come together to consolidate enough power to change a status quo that disempowers
minority groups. Working in a collective extends the network’s geographical and sectoral influence.
It allows the members to scale up their advocacies horizontally (across sectors, grassroots
communities and civil society groups) and vertically (from the local to international levels). Civil
society networks have a wider representation, since their members speak and act for various
marginalised sectors (for example, small-scale farmers and fisherfolk, urban poor, poor women
and children, and the elderly). With diverse experiences, they create the potential and space for
engaging in collaborative work, exchanging capacities and resources, and disseminating lessons.
Other civil society networks bridge organisations belonging to different sectors, interest groups
and stakeholders. They have an interesting mix of members, ranging from scientific and academic
institutions to grassroots communities, local and national governments, and non-governmental
organisations (NGOs). Given the differing mandates and ways of working of the members, these
civil society networks are more challenging to manage yet they generate much learning. The
depth of their insight and experience, notwithstanding the contradicting interpretations of realities
among members, encourages information sharing through collaboration and dialogue. One can
imagine the potentially rich knowledge produced from linkages among scientists, grassroots
communities and civil society groups working on disaster risk reduction and management (DRRM)
and climate change adaptation (CCA). There are broad opportunities to develop and implement
evidence-based sound advocacy points. While this relationship may be tension-filled, especially
when finding a common ground within a diverse range of ideologies, practices, systems and
mandates, bridging networks and critical engagements can transform policies, structures and
unequal power relationships, as the story below illustrates.
The series of strong disasters that have hit the Philippines in recent years left countless poor,
vulnerable communities devastated. Gains from years of development work have been destroyed
and steps to progress have retrogressed. The case of Caucus of Development NGO Networks
(CODE-NGO) shows how civil society organisations have been able to address this threat by
capitalising on the innate capacities and hierarchy of their networks. Composed of 12 national
and regional networks of development organisations, CODE-NGO seeks to influence public policy,
exercise transformative leadership and strengthen the accountability of its members for advancing
development work in the Philippines. With vast experience in implementing programmes on
livelihoods, education, peace building and other development sectors, its members have been able
to establish their voice and influence in the government’s policy and decision-making processes.
Because of its nature as a secondary- and tertiary-level network, CODE-NGO has created a huge
impact, reaching remote places despite its limited direct engagement with the communities.
15
Of late, network members have been engaging in humanitarian work, responding to emergencies
in their own communities. Usually, when a disaster struck one region, CODE-NGO members
from other regions would ask how they could help. However, there was no institutionalised
mechanism within CODE-NGO for coordinating humanitarian and disaster preparedness work.
While its members knew they had the facility to do this, they had yet to learn as a network how
to start it, how to carry out humanitarian work according to international standards and how to
implement disaster preparedness programmes in a coordinated manner to avoid overlapping work
and maximise resources to cover more areas.
External coordination mechanisms existed, such as the humanitarian clusters of the United Nations
Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, but these were partial to UN agencies and
international NGOs and excluded Philippine development organisations from the collaboration.
CODE-NGO was not blind to this power imbalance. While its members did not necessarily consider
themselves as humanitarian or DRRM organisations, they were the first source of support sought
by communities during calamities, since they were the only development groups working in the
area. Hiring technical specialists to do the work was out of the question. To address this limitation,
CODE-NGO sought to enrich its members’ capacities for humanitarian and DRRM work by building
knowledge and expertise, and make their collective voices heard in international spaces.
At the same time that CODE-NGO members were building their capacities, Christian Aid was
looking for ways to influence more civil society groups to bridge development work with
humanitarian and DRRM initiatives. The urgency of addressing the multiple threats and uncertain
futures facing poor communities pushed Christian Aid to broaden the geographical reach of
its resilience programme. Christian Aid opted to engage and build the capacities of existing
development networks for humanitarian and DRRM work, instead of forming new networks and
bodies, by working with CODE-NGO, the Philippines’ biggest coalition of civil society groups, with
more than 1,600 member NGOs, people’s organisations and cooperatives. Created specifically to
widen the impact of civil society groups on national development, CODE-NGO was deemed the
perfect channel for building resilient communities on a broad scale. Christian Aid envisioned a
community of practice that could do DRRM work and engage with DRRM groups across all levels,
as well as integrate disaster risk reduction and management with other sectors (such as health,
livelihoods and education). Having a vast sectoral and geographical representation, CODE-NGO
could access more spaces in government policy discussions and negotiations and increase the
opportunities for Philippine development organisations to participate and be heard in international
humanitarian coordination venues.
CODE-NGO found synergy between its members’ call and Christian Aid’s mission. This triggered
the inception of the Advancing CSO Engagement in DRRM-CCA. Also called ACED Project,
this initiative works around the belief that strategic and coordinated actions within and among
civil society organisations and networks from the national to the local levels are essential in
effecting change towards resilience. CODE-NGO developed regional CSO DRRM coordination
hubs among its member networks to organise and coordinate their DRRM efforts as a coalition.
This mechanism also functioned as an advocacy platform for NGOs to engage the national
government in DRRM issues.
Resilience building should be advanced from a development perspective and supplemented by

humanitarian and DRRM work because it addresses systemic and chronic sources of vulnerability.
Here, the beauty of working with civil society networks becomes appreciated as one realises their
potential impact on resilience work. Their members engage in various sectoral issues and with
groups that are directly affected by disasters – environment, health, education, peace building,

women and indigenous people. Although they cover different sectors, their work is grounded
in the common framework of sustainable development and integrated area development. Thus,
when there were calls from Christian Aid and grassroots communities to engage in DRRM work,
it was not difficult for them to integrate this into their sectoral programmes. CODE-NGO members
recognised the advantages of reshaping their programmes by threading together humanitarian,
DRRM and development work in creating resilient communities.
Lobbying government to rework its plans and budgets and include DRRM was a different matter.
It was the extensive experience of network members in working with other sectors and the social
capital they had built with local governments and communities that facilitated the process of
mainstreaming disaster risk reduction and management in government plans and budgets. Many
of them presently serve as civil society representatives in local and national development councils
and thus could influence government policies, budgets and decisions. They could convince local
special bodies in health, livelihoods and other sectors to integrate DRRM into their programmes.
It also helps that disaster risk reduction and management is a neutral engagement supported
by both government and civil society groups. The current positions of network members in the
governance structure make it possible for them to monitor government use of DRRM and CCA
funds. In Camarines Sur Province, the Caritas Diocese of Libmanan, a member organisation of
CODE-NGO’s regional network Coalition for Bicol Development, persuaded the San Fernando
municipal government to replicate the participatory assessment processes the Libmanan municipal
government had used in developing a DRRM plan and use this in selected coastal communities.
This was a noteworthy change, since local governments were used to merely copying their own
previous plans.
Participating in decision-making processes that have an impact on people’s lives is no longer

confined to the government. Local government officials who formerly dominated planning
processes are now engaging the expertise of civil society groups in formulating sound and
appropriate DRRM plans, in order to access DRRM funds. Beyond civil society groups and
government, people’s organisations also benefit from initiatives to mainstream DRRM in other
sectoral programmes.
In Talibon, Bohol Province, a CODE-NGO member network, Philippine Partnership for the
Development of Human Resources in Rural Areas (PhilDHRRA), worked with a women’s
organisation on a DRRM and CCA project. This had a positive effect on the women, whose
confidence was bolstered by their newfound knowledge. They realised their capacity to prepare
their family and community for disasters and protect their livelihood from calamities. They also
came to recognise their potential to articulate their concerns to the village council and participate
in projects that were relevant to them. Now the women are seeking ways to broaden their
involvement in community and village council activities. What started as a project aimed at
mainstreaming the DRRM approach in programmes became an unintended channel for women to
learn and assert their rights.
Engaging with networks requires coordination at different levels because there are provincial
and regional networks operating in various situations. This is an effective, yet challenging, task,
as macro and micro advocacy work, local and national capacities, and network and individual
systems and agenda are linked. Distinctions and similarities in ways of working and the operating
context have to be considered to ensure a smooth and effective coordination hub.
While the agenda of regional networks may vary (for example, one may focus on man-made
conflicts, while another on natural hazards), they share the similar objective of influencing
2: Engaging civil society networks for building resilience 17

government plans and budgets to support DRRM mainstreaming. The diversity of their experiences
offers rich lessons that make these networks treasures of learning and reflection for refining
resilience work.
Engaging with networks further creates a broad space for sharing technologies and expertise.
The ties between national and local NGOs are enriched as opportunities increase for innovation,
sharing and learning at the intersection of DRRM and development work. A critical mass composed
of development, humanitarian and DRRM practitioners is created. With collective expertise and
experience, network members are able to deal effectively with the different combinations of
shocks and stress that communities experience. Compartmentalised programmes will not reduce
the vulnerability of communities. An integrated, flexible and adaptive approach that requires
civil society groups to work closer together and share best practices to deal with interconnected
systemic risks is the key.
Adding to these gains from engaging with networks is the strong sense of accountability among
the members. Since their activities are interrelated and their geographical reach is wide, one
member answers not only to its immediate stakeholders but also indirectly to the stakeholders
of other members.
In supporting a CSO network that carries out development work across the country, CODE-
NGO and Christian Aid have been able to extend their reach to at least 100 communities in a
short time. It is not difficult to see the scale and speed of impact of their work on helping build
community resources and capacity. The investment is small, yet the impact is big and lasting,
allowing people to thrive amidst risks and live a life with dignity. As risks can potentially become
more complex and have a wider impact, the urgency of preparing as many communities as
possible intensifies. Engaging and strengthening networks then becomes an advantageous and
rational path to take.
The work of CODE-NGO gives us a bird’s eye view of how far and fast NGOs in a network can
expand resilience initiatives, deepen their impact and widen their reach. It makes the promise of
a better life closer to a greater population of at-risk communities. The challenge that remains is
in influencing international humanitarian coordination spaces to bring in the voices of grassroots
communities. How can local Philippine networks assert and protect their voice as they collaborate
with dominant UN and international NGOs? In a context where government has limited capacity
to extend humanitarian and DRRM interventions, how can local civil society networks fill this gap
without being undermined by more dominant players in the international scene? How can local
civil society networks make their voices heard in these spaces where mechanisms and processes
are partial to international NGOs? As these stories have shown, the resilience work of civil
society networks such as CODE-NGO continues as they search for answers to these questions
and new ways of building the resilience of grassroots communities.

3
Recasting community organising
for resilience
As indicated in Chapter 1, it is common notion that to effect social change, individuals have to be
organised into a collective acting towards a shared interest. This is based on the assumption that
social change always involves conflict and struggle with dominant institutions and organisations
and so a subordinated group needs to generate collective power, in order to influence and direct
systems and processes in its favour. An organised mass is the means to challenge institutions
and organisations that perpetuate power imbalances and inequality.
While this strategy of community mobilisation for social change has been successful in many
cases, it is not easy to achieve, since the prevailing risks affect not only community groups, but
also the families and individuals that form those groups. The participation of group leaders and
members may be affected by their need to attend to family concerns first. Women may be taking
on leadership roles, but may still be victims of spousal abuse at home. Community projects may
be earning money, but the members’ wages may still be low. Social issues may be addressed,
but family relationships may persist, inevitably affecting the leaders and members. In short, the
social values being advocated by community groups may not necessarily be translated into family
or individual gains.
Given the complexity of risks facing communities, development organisations need to reflect on
the status quo of organising work. At present, they prioritise technical capacity building, which is
a far cry from their strategies in the 1970s and 1980s, when the emphasis was on leadership and
value formation. Development organisations must learn from their failed initiatives and recalibrate
their strategies if they are to help create resilient communities effectively. They need to step
back, start challenging their organising approach, and ask: Why are social gains not translated
into individual and family gains? If there is a strong push in the development field to produce
big impact, why should we go for small change? Why invest in one or five individuals or families
when one can invest in a large community group and produce a bigger impact? Why are families
and the individual ignored in the community organising equation?
Christian Aid partners Socio-Pastoral Institute (SPI), Coastal CORE and FORGE understand that
answering these questions calls for a change in traditional ways of community organising and
for exploring uncertain and diverse paths that are new to them. SPI’s response was to bring in
spirituality to help Moro and Christians transform ‘the self or the person’ and the family, the
basic unit of society. This entailed going back to cultivating values of stewardship, equality of
rights and human dignity. For Coastal CORE, it was about finding one’s voice by accepting one’s
identity and breaking down negative images of marginalised groups. Similar to FORGE, its focus
was on building the confidence of the people, helping them think beyond simply subsisting for
themselves and their family, and teaching them the options for improving their lives and how to
maximise these options. The outcomes of the work of SPI, Coastal CORE and FORGE might look
the same, but there were inherent differences in their approach. Both SPI and Coastal CORE were
proactive, driven by a vision that directly impacted only a few target families or individuals, not
the community. On the other hand, FORGE worked on issues and was therefore reactive. But its
reach was wider because it deliberately centred its impact on the community.
The approach of SPI, Coastal CORE and FORGE may be unpopular, especially when one considers
resource efficiency (input vis-à-vis output) and the urgency of effecting wide-scale transformation.
19
It is distinct from the mainstream idea of doing community work, but it breaks through social
and personal barriers that have weakened community organisations and hindered development
progress. The histories of these marginalised communities are characterised by unequal power
relations and hegemonic control that have denied them equal access to basic social services,
information, facilities and processes important to community life. Consequently, they have
developed negative identities of themselves and the larger community that often crystallise into
acts of resistance and subservience, indifference and passivity. It is these histories that urged
SPI, Coastal CORE and FORGE to recast their community organising approach by working with
families and individuals. When we understand what puts these communities at risk and why,
and why many ‘development-as-usual’ interventions have failed, this approach, which focuses
on values and re-imagines the role and impact of the individual on the family and the community,
provides an answer.
Rebuilding Mindanao through stewardship and interfaith work: SPI and UFS
Mindanao’s history is replete with stories of mistrust and resentment between the Moro (Muslims
and lumad or indigenous people) and Christians. The stories go as far back as the Spanish-
American period when colonisers took away the Moro’s land using force and deceit. This started
a long, drawn-out war that took thousands of lives from all groups. The Moro endured years of
systematic and violent marginalisation, as their minority voice was ignored. The killings deeply
entrenched chronic feelings of hate, resentment and discrimination between and among the Moro
and Christians. What started as a conflict over land became complex when religion became a
factor. The mix and complexity of risks made interfaith work difficult.
Cognisant of this, SPI, an NGO formed by Roman Catholic priests and nuns from various
congregations, saw the importance of addressing these feelings first, or development efforts
would not prosper. While it does not discount what socioeconomic support can do to improve
people’s lives, SPI believes that fostering lasting peace and eradicating poverty in Mindanao
require more than this. It encourages development organisations to rethink and recalibrate their
traditional approach in doing development work and bring back the missing links of community
organising.
For SPI, helping people in Mindanao must start with transforming the self through the concept of
stewardship, or khalifah, for the Moro. Khalifah espouses that we are all created to be custodians
of our community and are thus responsible for one another’s welfare. It is a form of spirituality
that transcends formal prayers and rituals and embraces a life committed to non-violence and
solidarity with the poor, encompassing the realm of the personal and relational to cover social,
economic and political fields. Adopting khalifah means adopting a life that upholds equal rights
and tolerance of diversity, as well as a just and economic order. It is this often overlooked
element of community organising and social transformation that SPI brought to Mindanao.
SPI works with Ummah Fi Salam (UFS), a Muslim development group it formed in Mindanao in the
mid-2000s, together with Maguid Maruhom, a hereditary sultan of the Iranun tribe who adopted
the khalifah practice after years of implementing unsuccessful socioeconomic projects. Ummah
means community and fi salam means peace and, as the name implies, UFS endeavours to build
communities of peace. It is founded on faith and righteousness and maintains that a person will
be held accountable on the last day for the actions he or she has done to the community. The
group essentially believes in doing what is right and preventing what is wrong. It adheres to the
Quran, but unlike fundamentalists, it promotes a progressive interpretation of the Quran by using
its teachings to help people critically examine social issues such as urban poverty.

Khalifah shows people another road to transformation, one that is less travelled and less popular,
but effectively breaks down entrenched inequities and prejudices. For example, Omar was once a
fundamentalist Muslim who observed the practice of confining women to the home to look after
the family. His wife, Saida, was unhappy with this arrangement because she was used to doing
community work as a youth leader. Open discussions were not practised. Omar likewise confined
himself to studying the teachings of Islam, prayer and fasting, and paid no heed to the social
issues around him. What he had was a one-way relationship with God and no one else. Omar
had received his Quranic education in Iran and was a recognised ustad (teacher) of the Quran in
the community. Saida was not accustomed to communicating with other people, fearful of her
husband and withdrawn from the community. She was silent, fearful that she would be judged
when she spoke. She was totally dependent on her husband’s income.
Sultan Maguid recognised

Saida’s potential for becoming
a woman leader. But he knew
that in order to transform
Saida, he first had to transform
Omar. Eventually, Omar
allowed Saida to pursue her joy
of service, a decision he never
regretted. Saida learned about
women’s rights and discovered
her capacity to help her family
and transform society. She
started helping Omar with the
family expenses, including their
Muslim women and men form an alliance with Catholic Bishop
children’s school needs. Omar
Cabajar through the interfaith council in order to negotiate
found himself sharing that joy
as his relationship with his peacefully with military groups in Pagadian City, Zamboanga
family and Saida improved. del Sur. (Allan Vera)
Whereas before he always had
the final word, now he consults Saida on social concerns while she asks him about the Quran.
Other Muslim families look up to Omar, seeing him taking on childcare duties when Saida is busy
or out of the house. Both Saida and Omar nurture and teach their children to respect all faiths. In
one instance, when one of their children had a bad encounter with a Christian, they let the child
interact with another Christian family to prevent the child from developing a hatred of Christians.
Omar and Saida are among the couples assisting other Muslim families in resolving their
differences. Khalifah inspires them to go beyond the confines of their family and contribute to
changing their community. It inspires them to work with people of other religions with whom
they share the values of social justice and human dignity. Devoting their time to community work
has since become the couple’s way of life.
Guided by the tenets of khalifah and their understanding of Mindanao’s history, SPI and UFS knew
they had to engage with other faiths to heal relationships and resolve differences. They brought
together Christian, Roman Catholic and Islamic faith workers and the lumad to work collectively
on addressing community problems. The fact that the group operates without formal rules,
systems, mechanisms and regular funding support would leave an external observer amazed at
how it has managed to sustain its activities and participants for a decade. It is evident that a key
element binds the group, khalifah, which commits them to be stewards of communities.
3: Recasting community organising for resilience 21

In their interfaith work, group members have taken on the roles of negotiator, mediator and peace
advocate, particularly when cases of human rights violation and calamities occur in urban poor
communities. Recently, residents of Pitogo, a community in Mindanao that is not covered by
UFS, sought refuge from relatives in UFS-supported communities after receiving a threat from
the mayor, who suspected their community of harbouring the kidnappers of four people. They
were given a week to produce the kidnap victims or they would be harmed. Although UFS did
not cover their area, it provided the community with assistance. Sultan Maguid, UFS executive
director, said it was khalifah that pushed them to help. The community brought up the problem
before the interfaith council, which carried out actions to resolve the issue. They called on
their networks to provide humanitarian assistance to the evacuees and Columban missionaries
heeded the call. The council persuaded the regional office of the Department of Social Welfare
and Development to consider the evacuees as internally displaced people and give them relief
assistance. It also launched an investigation into the human rights violations committed against
the people. Since the issue was highly politicised, it involved representatives from the Office of
the President, government agencies and the police. The host communities exercised protection
measures by coordinating with the local government in verifying the identities of the evacuees.
This would prevent Islamic extremists from taking advantage of the situation. The interfaith
council continues to speak to and mediate among the evacuees, government, military and police
to ensure the evacuees’ rights are upheld.
Interfaith work espouses dialogue among the concerned parties in resolving conflicts, as in the
case of rido (tribal conflicts) between warring clans. UFS, together with the interfaith council,
has convinced the military to facilitate dialogue and not to see rido as mere domestic or tribal
differences that they should not be involved in. Dialogue was also instrumental in improving the
relationship between the police and a Muslim-dominated community. The Muslims used to be
afraid of the police, who would only enter the community when there were police raids. The
police were afraid to enter the community because they thought it was a den of terrorists. These
discussions became the bridge to start addressing the impact of inequality.
The interfaith group stewards all people regardless of their faith or denomination. At the height of
bombings in Mindanao and abuse of Muslim rights by the Philippine military, the Roman Catholic
bishop of Pagadian defended a community of Muslims when their houses were raided by a
military company that suspected them of keeping illegal munitions. The company was penalised
after complaints were lodged. UFS and the interfaith council initiated discussions with the police
and military, which helped reduce incidents of violence against Muslims.
The group also engaged the city government of Pagadian in resettlement issues. In early 2014,
236 Roman Catholic and Moro families were transferred to a relocation site. They were, however,
disappointed to find out that the city government had defaulted on its promise to make basic
services, such as water, electricity and transportation, available in the area upon their arrival.
Months had passed and still no development. UFS raised this matter to the council, where the
relocated people were invited to discuss their community issues.
With the social networks and influence of the group convenors, including bishops and priests,
pastors and a sultan, a safe space has been created for grassroots communities, civil society
and other stakeholders to dialogue and express their views without fear. This serves as an
alternative venue to state planning processes, allowing poor and marginalised sectors to take part
in decision-making processes that can help improve their lives.
By working with the influential Roman Catholic Church and other religions, the Moro have a voice
that enables them to seek and claim their rights. What used to be a lone minority voice that was

easily ignored is now being heard as their social capital and political power broadens. Interfaith
work heals the wounds created by the protracted conflict by bringing people of all religions
together to uphold common values of equality and human dignity. Through this healing, the path
towards empowerment of the Moro is gradually being secured.
Changing mindsets, transforming lives: Coastal CORE

Sitio Bueno is a small upland community located in the southern portion of Luzon Island. It is
home to 22 families belonging to the Agta Tabangnon indigenous group. The community has
had a long history of isolation, marginalisation and neglect, with families looking after their own
needs, receiving minimal support from government and other Agta families.
Neonita Bueno, one of the informal woman leaders, recounted their story.
‘We were withdrawn and intimidated. We hardly communicated with people from the lowland
and could not even look them in the eye. When we travelled to the lowland communities,
people would look at us differently. They thought that we were inane and reckless. They
would tease and mock us because of our physical appearance. This was also the reason we
did not want to be identified as Agta Tabangnon. We lived very far so we felt isolated from
them. When someone visited our community, we would hide and not talk to them. We were
not aware of any government services and did not access these.’
Access to Sitio Bueno was difficult until 2012, and people had to traverse a very steep, muddy
terrain for hours to reach the area. Since the community population was low, local officials were
not keen on prioritising the community for development projects. Although the village council
allocated a yearly budget for the Agta Tabangnon, the intended projects never materialised.
Village leaders admitted these shortcomings, explaining that it was difficult for them to reach out
to the residents, who were withdrawn. They added that the community’s traditional sociocultural
practices did not fit the state administration grid. The village treasurer gave an example:
‘We wanted to implement the cash transfer programme of the government in Sitio Bueno,
but we could not do it because the programme requires the beneficiaries to produce birth
certificates, which the Agta Tabangnon do not have. We wanted to improve their sanitation
habits by providing them with toilets. But how could we do that if they are nomadic? They
could not bring the toilet bowls with them. We tried to address their need for water by
installing a hand water pump in their community. But they did not like the taste of water
coming out of the pump and would rather drink directly from the river. The pump was not
maintained and eventually damaged.’
Clearly, government programme planning lacks the information necessary to ensure the
appropriateness of their initiatives for indigenous communities.
Having limited access to basic social services and options for livelihood has strained relationships
within the family. Marilou, a mother of four, said:
‘My husband and I would always quarrel, especially when my husband could not put food
on the table. I did not have a job of my own. It also did not occur to me that I should have
one because we were used to having our husbands doing all the work. That was how Agta
families lived before. Life was difficult for us most of the time. We did not speak with our
husbands and were very impatient with each other. I never thought of approaching other
Agta families for help. I always kept our problems to myself.’

Her story is shared by other women in the community. One said:
‘We grew up thinking that men should be the ones earning an income while women stayed
at home. Our children did not go to school. We did not value education. We were only
concerned with having food to eat every day. That was our life before. That was our dream
for our family, to have food on the table every day.’
This was the situation that confronted Coastal CORE, an NGO working to improve and protect
the life and livelihood of coastal communities in the provinces of Albay and Sorsogon. When
Coastal CORE approached the village council of Caracaran to inquire about possible sites where it
could commence its resilient livelihoods programme, the village council unanimously pointed the
NGO to Sitio Bueno. This was also the council’s way of seeking external assistance for the Agta
Tabangnon, who they recognised as the most vulnerable group in their community.
For an NGO that had no prior experience working extensively with indigenous or upland people,
this was a tall order. Coastal CORE recognised the multiple interlinked risks in Sitio Bueno and
knew that it would take more than disaster preparedness initiatives to build a resilient community.
It was challenged to recalibrate its ways of working, relearn new approaches of organising
communities and refine its expectations of development programmes.
Coastal CORE initially planned to address the governance and technical issues of coastal livelihoods
and strengthen disaster risk reduction and climate change adaptation measures, as it had done
in previous projects. However, after studying the landscape and the Agta, the NGO decided to
begin community organising by transforming individuals and family relationships. Coastal CORE
needed to break down personal and social walls that had been built from years of ignorance and
intolerance of cultural differences, feelings of neglect and ineptness, and politicised decisions.
Preparedness against natural hazards, livelihood skills training and provision of livelihood
inputs were not enough; discovery and acceptance of cultural differences and healing of social
relationships were necessary for the project to be successful.
The first official activity involved gathering

together the Agta and other communities
in workshops. It was the first time the Agta
participated in such a gathering with people
they did not know. The experience was
daunting, especially when they had to speak in
front of the group, but they looked forward to
it. For the Agta, a new world was opened when
they started connecting with other people.
Suddenly, they found themselves claiming
services from government. They approached
the village officials for medical assistance. The
process of obtaining their birth certificates
had started. The Agta also became involved
An Agta Tabangnon proudly shows the garden in Coastal CORE’s savings and loan scheme
he started using a loan from the group’s savings
to support their livelihood needs. The need for
family savings was a concern that arose in the
scheme. The garden provides an additional
PVCA conducted by Coastal CORE with the
source of food and income for him and his family.
community. Using their savings, some of the
(Coastal CORE)
Agta had been able to start their own home

gardens or small convenience stores. The extra income from selling vegetables and the stores
was allocated for their children’s schooling. Others were able to redeem their copra by repaying
the buyer using the profit from selling woven mats and copra. By May 2015, the group’s savings
had reached US$673. The members plan to use this for emergencies.
The Agta have also come to appreciate the value of education. A mother proudly talked about her
daughter whose motivation to finish secondary school inspired her to work harder. Her daughter
would be the first to graduate in their tribe.
As the series of workshops progressed, the personal and social walls between and among the
Agta and other communities gradually broke down. Gone were the long-held images of the Agta
as illiterate, inane and reckless. New relationships were formed between the Agta and lowland
communities as well as the local government. Lowland communities came to understand and
accept the indigenous group’s different cultural practices. The Agta no longer hid from people
and accepted their indigenous origins, even proudly claiming this. They are now beneficiaries of
educational support from the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples.
Change did not only happen at the personal and family levels but also within the Agta Tabangnon
group.
‘We hold family days here where we gather all families and do some activities. We ask
families to share whatever food they have during the activity. This is new for us because
before we just kept to ourselves and our family and did not interact with other families. We
did not really know each other that well. Now, we have occasions where we could talk and
have fun. Apart from this, our group meets every Tuesday to discuss the savings scheme
and the concerns of our community.’ – Neonita, head of the savings and loan project
‘This project changed me. I did not have any dreams before for myself or for my family. I
was just concerned with putting food on the table. When the project asked us about our
vision for our family, it was only then that I started thinking about it. Now, I want all my
children to go to school. Some of the parents want to have better homes. Others want to
have better banca [small boats] for fishing. It did not occur to me that I could dream more
for my family. The project helped us to dream a better life for our family and, at the same
time, opened opportunities for us to achieve those dreams.’ – Antonio, an Agta father
At the start of the project, Coastal CORE’s intent was to help the Agta value their indigeneity
and develop confidence and self-esteem in interacting with other people. They also sought to fix
the relationships within households and remove the stigma against being Agta. But the project
accomplished much more. The Agta’s network broadened, allowing them to obtain support
from village officials and other communities on various concerns, such as access to basic
social services. Even though the interventions focused on the Agta, the lowland communities
experienced some transformation as well, having grown to accept the Agta as one of them. And
Coastal CORE, by embracing the challenges of new risks in an upland community of indigenous
people and readily adapting its approach to community organising, effectively assisted the Agta
Tabangnon in their journey towards resilience.
Putting the spotlight on the family: FORGE

FORGE has been organising communities, implementing socioeconomic projects and carrying out
advocacy work in Central Visayas for 27 years. But this has not been without challenges. One
of the difficulties it encountered was sustaining the participation of households in community

mobilising and advocacy activities, which could undermine or destroy the progress the community
has made so far. The reasons cited by members for their inactivity were largely related to family or
personal concerns, such as marital problems, spousal abuse, having a prostitute child, addiction
to gambling and involvement in illegal activities. FORGE then realised that it had to recalibrate its
organising strategy and rethink how it could streamline its interventions at the family level. This
gave birth to the family development intervention (FDI) approach, which believes that addressing
problems within the family, which is the basic unit of society, could increase the probability of
members participating in community activities. It was not easy for FORGE to change its approach
to organising communities by integrating family work in its practice. The questions posed at
the beginning of this chapter had been the subject of debate and discussion among its staff.
However, it was the challenge brought about by the new risks that pushed them to eventually
adopt this approach.
In the upland village of Busay in Cebu City, where these risks have emerged, FORGE, through
its family development workers, formed a women and children committee to assist families in
dealing with domestic and personal issues. This committee is part of the grassroots organisation
Tarkum Upper Laguerta Homeowners Association (TULHOA) formed by FORGE in Busay in 2005.
TULHOA was initially organised to resolve issues on land tenure and access to basic social
services. Dealing with family concerns was not part of the group’s mission. But recognising the
threat of the emerging risks, FORGE and TULHOA decided to include the FDI approach in the
latter’s practice and integrate the committee in its structure.
The committee, composed of three to four community residents trained by FORGE in facilitating
home visits and case referrals (for example, human rights violations, health problems and so on),
teaches family planning and provides counselling, among other tasks. In times of disaster, such
as typhoon Haiyan and the 2014 earthquake in Central Visayas, the committee is also called to
provide psychosocial support to affected families.
The effectiveness of the FDI approach is demonstrated by Corazon’s story. A resident of Busay,
Corazon used to live in the city’s port area with her family. When the government relocated them
to Busay, she lost her job at the port and her husband became the sole breadwinner. The couple
did not practise family planning and had several children. Corazon got hooked on gambling,
using her husband’s income. She neglected her children, forcing her daughter to take care of
her younger siblings. Corazon also reneged on her duties as a member of the village association.
When they learned about Corazon’s situation, the women and children committee started visiting
Corazon and her family, engaging them in informal discussions about responsible parenthood
and the crisis in her family. The committee helped her realise the opportunities her family was
missing. It also asked Corazon to visualise the future of her family. Her husband likewise had the
chance to express his feelings of resentment and frustration towards Corazon. In the counselling
that ensued, the committee, instead of forcing Corazon to change, made her see the options for
having a better life. It took months before they saw positive developments in Corazon. Now she
no longer gambles; serves actively in their village association, even becoming part of its Board of
Directors and the emergency response team; and takes good care of her children. Corazon is just
one of the many cases of individuals whose relationship with their families and the community
has improved because of the FDI approach.

4
Turning markets into
channels for resilience
Entrenched in market systems is the unequal relationship and access to resources, knowledge
and network between powerful market players and small producers and among poor people
themselves. Big commercial groups often control commodity markets because they can better
anticipate and manage the impact of price volatility, market crash and limited supply of raw
materials and product demand. Well-organised and backed up by a strong network, they can
easily adapt to change and handle the pressure from uncertain market behaviour. They can also
work around state laws to serve their interest. Among poor people, some are able to source raw
materials and access the market through their networks.
More often, small producers tend to be enmeshed in the complex web of state legal instruments
and business requirements and arrangements that are applicable only to large enterprises.
Operating far from cities with poor (or limited) infrastructure support, they are forced to absorb
high production and marketing costs. They receive limited government extension services and
lack the technology support that will enable them to produce high-quality products for the
mainstream market. Nor do they have access to market information that can help them anticipate
market behaviour. Vertical and horizontal networks necessary for expanding their businesses are
either weak or nonexistent.
Christian Aid partners Urban Poor Associates (UPA) and the Philippine Network for Rural
Democratization and Development (Philnet) recognise that these issues prevent the market from
functioning to benefit poor communities. The story of UPA and its partner community group
KABALIKAT shows how KABALIKAT established a partnership with a large retail store and tilted
the power relations in its favour. Constant mentoring and guidance from UPA helped small producer
communities navigate the market system and build the knowledge and confidence to negotiate
with the private sector for a fair product price. The case of Philnet illustrates how intervening
in other parts of the value chain could have a positive impact on poor producers. It exemplifies
the value of experimenting with different business models so that the shocks and pressures
often borne by small producers are shared with other market players. The lessons derived from
Philnet’s long experience in implementing livelihood programmes and testing innovative ideas
have enabled the organisation to effectively teach communities how to anticipate risks and to
thrive in a highly unpredictable market.
Weaving their way through resilience: UPA and KABALIKAT

The Baseco community stands on 56 hectares of reclaimed land in an area where the mouth of
Pasig River meets the waters of Manila Bay. In the 1980s, the government relocated informal
settler families from other parts of metropolitan Manila to Baseco, where people lived in crowded
makeshift houses on stilts and engaged in seasonal low-paying work. The community was not
recognised as an official village by the government until 2010, and endured more than two
decades of living without clean water, electricity, roads and other basic social services. Such a
long period of neglect created feelings of resentment and hopelessness among the people. The
people grew indifferent to community issues, accepting their situation without question. The
women were passive and rarely employed.
27
UPA, an NGO that educates families on housing rights and assists communities in eviction crises,
stepped in to help the community in 2001. At that time, the residents were facing the threat of
eviction as the government was planning to rehabilitate Pasig River. UPA organised the residents
to form KABALIKAT sa Kaunlaran ng Baseco or, simply KABALIKAT, to work on the community’s
land tenure issues.
In 2003, Marieta, one of the KABALIKAT leaders, thought it would be good to start a livelihoods
project to motivate women to work. UPA started training KABALIKAT members in the rudiments of
running a livelihoods programme. KABALIKAT then opened a wholesale store where its members
could purchase goods on credit. The store closed after a few months, as members defaulted
on their loans. The organisation then tried selling rice, but this venture also failed because of
members’ arrears. Another attempt at an income-generating project involved selling candies, but
it ended up earning less than half a dollar a year. Reflecting on its failed attempts, KABALIKAT
realised that more important than learning the basics of managing livelihoods projects, internal
relations needed to be strengthened so that as a group the members would be able to deal
with misunderstandings and other challenges. KABALIKAT also recognised the need to study
the larger market (such as considering consumers outside of Baseco) if it wanted to sustain its
livelihoods projects.
UPA taught people value chain analysis and product marketing and helped them manage their
internal disputes and shortcomings. UPA further helped facilitate the group’s annual assessment
and planning. It also linked KABALIKAT with the Department of Trade and Industry, which taught
the members product development, and private foundations that provided technical knowledge
of running a livelihood project. But change did not happen instantly. KABALIKAT initiated various
income-generating activities that later turned out to be unsuccessful. Private individuals tried to
help by buying their products regardless of the quality. This form of support, however, was more
philanthropic than strategic; short term rather than long term.
In 2009, UPA, through its network, assisted KABALIKAT in starting a habi (weaving) livelihood
project. The members used rejected plastic wrappers of snack foods that they sourced from
food manufacturers for free. In 2013, they included water lilies that they obtained from the Pasig
River as raw material. KABALIKAT chose to use scrap material for two reasons: to contribute
to waste reduction and to generate a higher profit, given the low investment required. Jeorgie,
KABALIKAT president, explained:
‘We have a lot of problems in our community and we try to deal with this by linking all our
programmes in KABALIKAT. That’s how we came up with the idea of weaving scrap materials.
It is not only a source of income, but also our way of helping clean the environment.’
Their products, which include bags, wallets and placemats, are durable and have a high mark-up
price. UPA funded the construction of the production centre, and Mercy Relief, through UPA’s
facilitation, provided support to build the community-based livelihood centre, where KABALIKAT
products are displayed and stored. UPA further guided the people in developing proposals and
marketing materials for their project, and in working out strategies to market their products.
Through UPA’s network, KABALIKAT secured a partnership with the Filipino lifestyle retail chain
Kultura Filipino three months after the habi project commenced. Under Kultura Filipino’s Crafts
for a Cause programme, KABALIKAT products were sold in the biggest chain of shopping malls
in the country, making 2010 a good year for the business, since there were very few groups
engaged in the same enterprise at that time. By then, KABALIKAT already knew how to manage a

business. Learning from its past unsuccessful ventures and through UPA’s mentoring, KABALIKAT
developed the confidence to negotiate and collaborate with bigger players in the market. Thus,
when the retailer asked them to reduce their prices, the members negotiated successfully to
keep to their originally agreed price. This was a big accomplishment for KABALIKAT. Whereas
previously, people could be persuaded easily to agree to unfair business arrangements, now they
recognise the value of their labour and products and assert themselves in negotiations. Buyers
no longer look at the urban poor as pushovers that they could easily underprice and undervalue.
Aside from selling to Kultura Filipino, KABALIKAT joined bazaars to sell the products and also
sold them to community visitors. That year, the organisation earned PHP300,000 (US$7,500).
Many of the women earned extra

income from the products, which they
then spent on their children’s education
and their families’ daily needs. With
the profit from the habi project, the
group started a savings scheme,
which members were required to join
so that they would have a fallback
during emergencies. And in the event
that they are awarded land titles,
they could tap the fund for house
construction or repair. This is a big
step towards resilience for people who
started with little or no savings and
later generated buffer funds that they
Women of KABALIKAT exercise their voice in negotiating
could access during times of crisis.
a fair share of their labour and product value with big
market players. (UPA) The market for KABALIKAT’s products
continues to be unstable, owing to
stiff competition and new market rules. Given these uncertainties, one is inclined to ask: How
can small livelihood projects such as the habi project compete and be sustainable in a market that
is dominated by bigger players who have the resources to innovate their products and capture the
larger percentage of buyers? Where market systems and institutions are oftentimes transformed
to favour the expansion and growth of private entrepreneurs and big companies, how can these
livelihood projects continue to adapt to maintain their position in the market? How can small
producers consistently claim a fair share of the value of their labour and resources within this
context?
Despite the challenges they have been facing, the people remain hopeful that their habi project
will do well in the market. They know that of the livelihoods projects they have done, this has
the most potential because they have a market outside their own community and a network of
reliable support groups. Anticipating future demands and risks from the market, KABALIKAT
members are beginning to reorganise their livelihoods programme. With them in this journey are
their support groups, such as UPA, which constantly guides the community in managing these
risks.
Reinforcing consolidators to uphold community resilience: Philnet

In the 1960s and 1970s, when nito vines were abundant in the upland communities of Sibuyan
Island, Romblon, women would weave the material into plates, which they would then sell to
4: Turning markets into channels for resilience 29

visitors. However, the demand for nito plates on the island was low and unsteady. The nearest
large market they could access was four hours away by boat. Selling the plates individually was
not viable, as the transportation cost would be huge and eat up the profit.
Prior to 2010, the woman weavers would sell their nito plates to consolidators in the village
who, in turn, would transact with a middleman who sold to retailers in the city of Manila. The
women earned very little from this arrangement, as they were forced to sell to the consolidators
at a lower price in order to absorb the price demands of the middlemen, retailers and consumers.
There were few buyers within the community. These conditions discouraged and prevented the
women from producing nito plates and so they turned to selling vegetables to supplement their
husbands’ farming income. Because the income was still insufficient, many households were
forced to borrow money from relatives or friends to sustain their daily needs. Many children had
to drop out of school. Good health became a privilege.
Sibuyan is a small island that is highly

susceptible to natural hazards such as
typhoons. Four hours from the provincial
capital by boat, the island is often isolated
socially, economically and politically from the
rest of the province during the typhoon season.
Crops are destroyed. Transportation to the
mainland and other islands is not available.
Humanitarian assistance arrives days after a
typhoon. Without any crops to eat and unable
to sell its products, the community, especially
the women and children, becomes even more
vulnerable. People’s health is at risk. Family
relationships are strained, as parents and
children are forced to leave the island to look
for jobs. Community ties are affected when
leaders are unable to assist people with their
needs.
Woman weavers of Sibuyan are assured of a
The island is rich in mineral reserves, which steady income from their nito plates thanks to
makes it a suitable site for mining operations. the market innovations introduced by Philnet.
Unless proper institutional and structural (Philnet)
safeguards are put in place by the government
and mining companies, the island’s natural habitat and its people are constantly exposed to
potential danger. The community’s vulnerability increases when, owing to their limited income
from weaving and farming, households become inclined to support the mining operations.
Upon reflecting on the lessons learned from past community livelihoods projects, Philnet decided
to test a new livelihoods model that would reduce the market risks faced by the weavers, taking
into account the difficulty in marketing the product. Philnet knew an unsteady market would render
the community vulnerable to risks. The model aimed to reinforce the capacity of consolidators
to supply the materials, buy the products from the weavers and market the finished product.
Philnet started by supporting Mary Jane, a consolidator who the woman weavers trusted and
with whom they had a good relationship. Philnet provided Mary Jane with capital to purchase
raw materials and buy finished plates. Mary Jane would loan the nito vines to the weavers, who
would then get paid in cash when they provided the plates. Philnet also plans to help Mary Jane

find a storage space for the nito plates so that she can buy them constantly from the weavers,
allowing the latter to have a steady income.
Mary Jane no longer uses a middleman, but directly negotiates with the buyer in Manila. The
woman weavers favour this new arrangement because they earn more. They do not have to
pay for transportation to bring their items to the market or negotiate with a middleman. The
consolidator does all these tasks for them. As a result, they are able to save money, which
they then use for household expenses and payment of old debts. In some cases, they exchange
their nito plates with the consolidator for bread, soap, salt and other household needs. From
being a seasonal source of income, weaving has become a regular income-generating activity
for the women. It enables them to sustain the basic needs of their family, especially the children
(eg, food and proper sanitation).
Philnet believed that by reconfiguring parts of the market chain, the community’s vulnerability
to several risks would be reduced. In past projects, it gave livelihoods capital to individual
households. This approach was ineffective because the families tended to use the money for
other expenses. From a project administration perspective, it was difficult for Philnet to monitor
household use of the capital support. With the new model, the risk of misusing the funds is
avoided and supervision is easier, since Philnet only has to deal with Mary Jane. More importantly,
it is an innovative strategy that not only looks at sustainability in the market but also efficiency.
It confines its support to one consolidator, yet it benefits many woman weavers.
Since this model is still new, Philnet has yet to see its full impact, particularly on the relationship
between the weavers and the consolidators. Will it breed monopolisation of services? Will it
create unequal power relations between the two groups? Is trust enough to preserve the good
market relationship the groups presently have? If external support from Philnet stops, can the
communities sustain the model, given the unpredictability of the market and the operation of
dominant market players? A lot of questions on this model arise. And this is a good sign because,
as Chapter 7 demonstrates, it is through constant learning and questioning that communities
are able to anticipate and adapt to changes, manage the risks these bring and ultimately develop
resilience.
4: Turning markets into channels for resilience 31

5
Accessing public finance for
resilience building
Why do we need to pay attention to a government’s budget? Because it is a government’s

development policy, priorities and commitments expressed in monetary terms. It is a resource
that is intended to ensure the welfare of the country and its citizens. Government can be held
accountable if it fails in this task because of a weak budget system. Since the matter involves
people’s money, it is often the subject of intense scrutiny and debate.
National and local financing systems in many countries have become solely the government’s
domain. Government officials decide on the allocation of taxpayers’ money, and the people have
little participation, if at all, in the budget planning process. This is true even in many democratic
countries characterised by lack of government transparency and accountability and limited public
access to critical budget information. While it is a government’s responsibility to be transparent
in how and where it uses people’s money, its citizens also have the moral obligation to scrutinise
how their money is managed by government. They should look at the budget planning exercise
as neither procedural nor one of the annual activities of government, but as a fundamental part
of democracy and state building. There have been many cases of citizens holding government
leaders accountable in judicial courts for misusing taxpayers’ money and demanding subsequent
democratic reforms in government.
In the Philippines, the inclusion and consequent approval by the legislature of billions of lump
sum funds in the national budget have weakened the government’s call for a comprehensive
pro-poor public finance and budget reform. These funds, as the country has witnessed for
decades, are persistently subject to corruption and unjustly used to serve the interests of a rich
minority. Without transparency and information on the use of these funds, how can citizens hold
government accountable? In the same manner, how can the government strengthen its political
legitimacy and accountability when a central instrument of its governance system remains
equivocal, exclusive and elusive to public scrutiny? Addressing this, the Philippine Government
has instituted programmes and policies seeking the participation of civil society organisations in
the fiscal process. These shifts in institutional arrangement ultimately aim to make the national
budget transparent and responsive to the needs of the Filipino people.
However, accessing public finance for the general welfare necessitates more than just supportive
policies and programmes. Other variables, such as trust between government and civil society
organisations, are also important considerations in realising this. It is commonly perceived that civil
society organisations are always in conflict with government. Why then will they engage in these
fiscal programmes with local governments, which they perceive as corrupt and manipulative?
In the same way, why will local governments open up government fiscal space for civil society
organisations, which they perceive as critical and belligerent?
Trust lies at the core of these dynamics. It affects civil society participation in governance.
Policies can force engagement between civil society organisations and government. But civil
society organisations, in exercising their agency, may decide not to maximise these new
institutional arrangements if they remain wary of government’s intentions. Local governments
may still constrain civil society participation if they do not trust the latter. Developing a trusting
relationship between these two parties is thus necessary to ensure public finance will work for
the good of the people.
32
Opening the nation’s coffers to the influence and scrutiny of taxpayers is not easy, as powerful
dominant actors who benefit from the status quo will relentlessly seek to suppress people’s
voices and curb the space for their participation. But Christian Aid partners Coastal CORE and
Social Watch Philippines show how they have been able to leverage institutional arrangements
and their good relations with the government in pushing for transparency of budget design and
use and directing public funds to improving people’s lives.
Directing people’s funds towards coastal resource preservation: Coastal CORE

Building resilient communities in Rapu-Rapu Island, Albay Province, would take more than
training the residents in disaster preparedness. This was no secret to Coastal CORE, an NGO
that works with poor and vulnerable fishing communities in the Bicol region on interventions
around community-based coastal resource management, women and development, sustainable
livelihoods and disaster risk reduction. Other risks that threaten poor people’s vulnerabilities would
have to be addressed. The NGO noted how much the coastal resources meant to the people, who
mostly relied on fishing for their income. When the mine spills of Lafayette Philippines resulted
in massive fish kills in 2005, Coastal CORE, together with other anti-mining groups, confronted
the local leaders and the mining company to make them accountable for the damages suffered
by the people and the ecosystems.
Coastal CORE knew that any development intervention had to be based on sound resource
assessment. In 2013, it commissioned Bicol University to undertake a study with the aim of
determining the state of resources in the island and identifying appropriate actions based on the
findings. The study recommended establishing marine and mangrove sanctuaries and extensive
campaigns to protect the environment.
In 2014, the national government commenced the bottom-up budgeting (BUB) process in
selected local government units, including the municipality of Rapu-Rapu. This programme
opened the space for civil society organisations to participate in budget planning and ensure
increased allocation for social services. Under the BUB, a Local Poverty Reduction Action Team
was formed, consisting of local NGOs, grassroots organisations, community representatives and
government officials, who would work together to plan long-term poverty reduction initiatives.
The municipality of Rapu-Rapu invited Coastal CORE to be one of the civil society organisations
on the team.
Given the municipal government’s previous relationship with Coastal CORE, one could not help
but wonder: Why did the municipal government select Coastal CORE to be a part of the team when
the group was confrontational in the past over the mining spill? Does the municipal government
think it could fully trust the group’s actions? The answers lie in the events that transpired after
mining operations ceased.
Coastal CORE, together with other Christian Aid partners, implemented disaster risk reduction
projects in different provinces of the country, in partnership with local governments, being the
mandated institution to oversee and guarantee the safety and security of the people. Coastal
CORE worked with the municipalities and province of Albay in developing disaster risk reduction
and management plans and budgets. It also helped strengthen the capacity of local government
officials and communities for disaster preparedness and response.
During emergencies, Coastal CORE extended relief and rehabilitation work to the municipality
of Rapu-Rapu. As a result, it gained the trust and respect of local government officials, who
5: Accessing public finance for resilience building 33

recognised the group’s competence and reputation in humanitarian and disaster risk reduction
work. It also found allies among government officials who shared its vision and principles.
Through ongoing dialogue and engagement, trust was built over time between the two parties
and their relationship transformed from a clashing to an engaging one. This pushed Coastal CORE
to deepen its involvement with the local government, working with the latter in subsequent
initiatives, including climate change adaptation and mitigation programmes.
Working as part of the Local Poverty Reduction Action Team, Coastal CORE used the results of
its recent resource assessment to formulate coastal resource management plans for the island. It
also applied the ecosystem-based adaptation approach to make sure the plans would contribute
to mitigating climate change and help reduce the vulnerability of the people and their environment
to the adverse effects of climate change. Under the BUB, the group specifically targeted the
2014 budget of the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources to support the construction of
two marine sanctuary and mangrove reforestation sites and the purchase of a patrol boat. Similar
proposals were made by Coastal CORE for the agency’s 2015 budget.
Shirley, Coastal CORE executive director, reflected on their experience:
‘We recognise that there are several ways of resolving an issue. We could be confrontational
and could directly hit the mining corporations, which we did with Lafayette, because those
actions were necessary at that time. But now there are opportunities within the government
system that we want to maximise to influence its decisions and plans. These opportunities
do not necessitate us to aggressively confront the government, but rather engage them in
dialogues and negotiations. The BUB is one of those opportunities. Through this planning
process, we are able to access public funds to support actions that are founded on empirical
data and espoused by the communities themselves.’
The new institutional arrangements and the now cordial relationship between the local
government and Coastal CORE created opportunities for the latter to introduce positive changes
in the local budget and plans for the benefit of poor coastal communities. The challenge now
for Coastal CORE is to initiate the same transformation in the relationship between government
and the communities. Good relations with the government would motivate people to create
and maximise opportunities to participate in state processes that affect their lives. But what
happens in countries where patronage politics and powerful elites have overruled the voices of
minority groups for a long time? How can NGOs intervene to break this impasse and build trust
between and among the groups? Where government leaders’ tenure in office is transitory, how
can NGOs guarantee that the trust built between government and the communities is sustained
and protected from abuse?
Claiming the nation’s purse for building resilience: SWP and ABI
Social Watch Philippines (SWP) is a network of Philippine development organisations formed in
1997 primarily to advocate financing for development. Every year, SWP members would lobby
the legislature for a higher allocation for social development, having noted the decreasing funding
for this sector in the national budget.
In 2000, all the member states of the United Nations committed to help achieving the eight
Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) by 2015. The Philippine Government was one of the state
signatories. That same year, SWP decided to make the MDGs the framework and focus for its
budget advocacy. In the succeeding years, various studies by SWP members revealed that the

government was lagging behind in its MDG commitments. SWP also asserted that the MDGs
were underfunded. Its members acted on the findings of the research, separately following up
budget proposals, individually lobbying government agencies and legislators, and planning its
own programmes. This resulted in a hodgepodge of actions that, while valuable, were not enough
to give government a big solid push to fulfil its commitments.
A breakthrough happened in 2006. Having witnessed how SWP members persistently analysed
and critiqued the annual national budget, progressive-minded legislators challenged these NGOs
to come up with an integrated alternative budget for critical social expenditures. SWP accepted
the challenge. The members realised that consolidating their efforts could generate collective
power that would not only strengthen their voice, but also expand their geographical and sectoral
reach. The fact that they had allies within the government further encouraged them to take on the
task. Subsequently, SWP, together with other non-governmental organisations and supportive
legislators, started the Alternative Budget Initiative (ABI), which advocates a genuine people’s
budget as an alternative to the traditional budget of the Office of the President. Maintaining the
MDGs as its framework, ABI pushes for increased spending on social services in its alternative
budget, indicating clearly the budget allocations, the basis of the figures and proposed projects.
Members of SWP/ABI exercise their voice to the Bicameral Committee, which approves the national
budget, to ensure their alternative budget proposal will be made part of the 2011 national budget.
(SWP)
SWP/ABI knew the challenges ahead were immense. The country’s laws still placed budgetary
powers exclusively with the president and limited the participation of citizens in fiscal processes.
Public finance remained under the control of economists, financial managers, accountants and
auditors. Some bureaucrats who had long worked under these laws developed a culture of
excluding citizens from crucial decision-making processes.7 They were worried that increasing
citizen involvement in budget planning would turn it into a ‘marketplace.’
Professor Leonor Briones, lead convenor of SWP and former national treasurer of the country,
disagreed to this, stating:
‘Democracy is precisely a marketplace of ideas where different advocacies and proposals

are threshed out.’8

For SWP/ABI, as Briones described:
‘The budget process is at the heart of democracy. Decisions about what government
should spend for and who should bear the burden of such expenditures have to be decided
democratically, with participation from citizens.’9
It was not only external threats that SWP/ABI dealt with, but also its internal weaknesses. SWP/
ABI admitted that many of its members were not initially familiar with budget planning. SWP’s
secretariat coordinator Janet said:
‘We started in 2006 with six organisations and all of us hardly knew anything about the
national budget planning process. We were mentored by Professor Leonor Briones, our lead
convenor, who also happened to be a former national treasurer of the Philippines. We made
a lot of mistakes, but we soon learned along the process of engaging with legislators.’
Many civil society organisations were working on the MDG commitments but did not consider
influencing the budget as their primary strategy. Janet explained:
‘We knew the government is obliged to be transparent to the people on where it puts
people’s money. But it was much later when we realised that we also had to assert our
right to shape the budget and investigate how it is being managed because the public funds
come from our taxes.’
While other groups would confront and raise protests to the government, SWP/ABI capitalises
on its good relationship with state officials, particularly the legislators, to influence the budget.
Janet added:
‘It was partly this push from the legislators and the existing commitment of the government
to the MDGs that urged CSOs to get involved in the budget process. We started by
covering five concerns in the national budget: education, health, environment, agriculture
and macroeconomics. Later on we included social protection and persons with disabilities
concerns. With these increasing concerns, our membership has ballooned to 160
organisations. We also keep track of cross-cutting issues on gender and climate change in
the budget.’
SWP/ABI was recognised as a unique budget advocacy initiative globally, since legislators partnered
with its members in pushing for transparency and people’s participation in the budget process.10
Both parties cooperated with each other. Legislators promoted the advocacy, participated in
public hearings, shared budget information and supported the formulation of budget proposals.
SWP/ABI members worked with legislators’ staff in analysing social expenditures and in drafting
proposals. They also served as subject matter experts during budget deliberations.
Over time, this partnership started reaping victories. For the first time in the country’s history,
SWP/ABI was given the opportunity to defend its alternative budget proposal in Congress — an
opportunity normally reserved only for government agencies. Legislators from the Senate and
Congress understood the value of the alternative budget. Congress included SWP/ABI’s proposal
in the national budget deliberations. In 2010, it passed House Bill 3773 institutionalising the
participation of civil society organisations in budget hearings and deliberations. SWP/ABI was
part of the team that crafted the law and its implementing rules and regulations.

As SWP/ABI’s membership base broadens, the organisation is able to influence more legislators,
intensify its work with government agencies and deeply study the issues within each sector and
propose solutions. The agriculture sector benefited from SWP/ABI’s intervention when SWP/ABI
lobbied among legislators and executive offices for funds to support coconut fertilisation and
intercropping for small-scale coconut farmers, as well as a sustainable livelihood programme for
them. Coordinated by Rice Watch and Action Network (RWAN), another Christian Aid partner,
the agriculture cluster of SWP/ABI was able to convince the government to include an additional
PHP898m (US$19.6m) for these initiatives in the 2012 national budget. The funds were
channelled to the Philippine Coconut Authority, increasing to PHP1.5bn (US$32.7m) in 2013 and
then to PHP2.2bn (US$48m) in 2015. This is a significant feat for SWP/ABI, considering that the
Philippine Coconut Authority’s budget in 2011 was only PHP288m (US$6.2m), when the SWP/
ABI agriculture cluster did not submit any proposal.
All these accomplishments are a product of the members’ initiative to work with government and
to analyse and contextualise the social development performance of the country. Many of their
budget proposals reflect how risks across the budget sectors are correlated (for example, health
to education, environment to health) and suggest programmes that can help address these risks.
This is what distinguishes SWP/ABI proposals from traditional government budgets that tend
to be compartmentalised and rigid, not adapting to the changing nature of risks in society. Its
proposals are the result of constant learning and collaboration among its members, who include
development practitioners with a wealth of experiences in the issues of environment, education,
health, agriculture, social protection, persons with disabilities, climate change and gender.
While some of its proposals have already been included in the budget of government agencies
and are among the items annually approved by legislators, SWP/ABI is relentless in its advocacy
for the reduction, if not the abolition, of lump sum funds that remain under the discretion of the
president. These types of budget are dangerous and problematic because, as Professor Briones
said: ‘They are like blank checks that allow [the] bearer to use taxpayers’ money at will and with
very little public accountability.’11 They do not go through the proper budget deliberation process,
and their use remains invisible to the public. Through persistent lobbying among the executive
and legislative branches of government at the national and local levels, SWP/ABI has managed to
remove some of these questionable funds from the national budget. It keeps monitoring the funds
and budgets of government agencies that are likewise susceptible to corruption and politics.
Through SWP/ABI, civil society now has a venue to push for genuine budget reform that seeks
transparency and accountability of the budget system and the use of taxpayers’ money to
improve people’s lives. But in other countries with autocratic governments or where movement
of civil society groups is limited, who will ensure that the people’s money serves the public
welfare? Where trust is absent between the government and civil society groups, how can the
latter exert influence over the country’s fiscal processes? Similar questions will continue to arise
as communities and their support groups, such as SWP/ABI, work their way towards resilience.

6
Protecting the environment to
build resilient communities
In their bid to develop their economies, governments are forced to balance between protecting
their natural resources and creating a business environment favourable to foreign investment.
Many times, their decision puts the environment at risk as state policies and regulations for
protecting the country’s natural resources are subsumed under the overarching goal of economic
development. Government leaders may also lack the capacity to use state institutions to protect
the environment. Grassroots communities dependent on natural resources thus find themselves
struggling against foreign companies and government directives that are partial to the companies,
forcing people to leave their land or sacrifice their land and its resources, or subjecting them to
unjust business arrangements with the companies. Some of these practices and policies promote
the use of chemical pesticides and fertilisers and protect large-scale extractive industries.
Grassroots voices remain unheard or stifled, while the space for them to participate in decisions
affecting their lives and their environment either does not exist or is limited. Community actions
to protect the environment and generate alternative livelihood sources are constrained especially
if they threaten the operations of these large-scale extractive industries.
This condition makes the people and the environment vulnerable to different emerging risks. With
limited options for diversifying and improving their livelihoods and increasing their assets, people
are led to believe they cannot go beyond mere subsistence. Meanwhile, large-scale extractive
industries are allowed to operate with minimal or tolerant state control.
This section shows the work of Christian Aid partners with some of the marginalised and
vulnerable groups in the country: small-scale farmers and indigenous people. The story of Rice
Watch and Action Network (RWAN) describes how farmers mobilised themselves to improve
their livelihood and revive the productivity of their farmlands by adapting to the risks posed
by extreme, unpredictable weather changes and practising organic farming. In the end, it was
not only their lands and livelihood that benefited from their actions; spaces were also opened
for them to voice their individual and collective concerns to a larger community. Opportunities
were created for them to improve their farming practice through a wider network. The work of
Alyansa Tigil Mina (ATM; ‘Alliance to Stop Mining’) with the B’laan indigenous group, on the
other hand, saved the community’s ancestral domain from potential large-scale damage by a
proposed mining project. Through the help of their growing support network, the B’laan, as well
as other communities dependent on these resources, are confident that they can achieve a life
beyond subsistence and survival towards overall well-being.
People’s movement against mining: ATM

Tampakan is a municipality of South Cotabato Province, located in southern Philippines. In the
mid-1990s, the Philippine Government granted a Financial and Technical Assistance Agreement
to Western Mining Corporation (WMC), giving the company permission to explore, develop
and utilise mineral deposits in the area. WMC later sold the project to Sagittarius Mines (SMI),
which has Glencore, a blue chip company listed on the London Stock Exchange, as one of its
shareholders. But before the project could start, the provincial government declared a ban on
open-pit mining in South Cotabato.
The Tampakan Copper-Gold Project would have been the largest mining operation in the country
and would have established one of the largest copper mines in the world. The proposed project
38
would directly affect five watersheds covering about 3,000 hectares of primary forest that
is home to 5,000 people, mostly composed of B’laan indigenous communities. There are five
ancestral domains in the area, encompassing 74% of the proposed final mine site. The Tampakan
case is a classic story of an indigenous community intent on protecting its ancestral land and a
mining company that aims to profit from the land and its resources.
The mining company commenced its activities in the area in early 2000, with reports of abuse
and atrocities committed against the B’laan who had been asserting their rights to their land.
Lives were lost as the B’laan clashed with the mining company’s security forces and staff.
Instead of supporting the B’laan people’s resistance to the mining project, the local government
deployed state security personnel to protect mining investments in the area. The military presence
escalated the tension and violence in the territory, which further deteriorated when communist
and Muslim rebels with their own agenda arrived and also fought with the B’laan. This led to
a series of extrajudicial killings in 2012-2013. The B’laan held the security forces accountable
for cases of human rights violations against their people and the extrajudicial killings of some
of their leaders and relatives. They sought help from military and civil courts. However, justice
was slow or, in some cases, denied. Support from government agencies tasked to protect the
environment and indigenous people’s rights was wanting; they were even sympathetic to the
mining companies. New B’laan leaders favourably disposed to the mining operations were put
in place by some government officials in order to supersede the authority of traditional leaders.
Local government officials with personal interest backed the mining operations.
Christian Aid partner ATM knew the extent of impact of the mining operations on the environment
and the people. It made the mining project its barometer for the success of its campaign against
large-scale mining, foreign control and ownership of the country’s mineral resources, and promotion
of mining as a poverty reduction strategy. ATM, together with its network member, the Social
Action Center of Marbel, intensified its support to the B’laan communities as the security risks
and threats mounted. In 2012, ATM and Philippine Misereor Partners organised a fact-finding
mission in Tampakan to investigate and validate the cases of rights violations among the B’laan,
militarisation in the area, divisions created by the mining company within the B’laan and other
residents, and reported unlawful activities of SMI. The military, media, church representatives and
government officials participated in the mission. The results of the investigation confirmed all the
reports and allegations. A press conference was held and a statement was released by the groups
involved in the mission, demanding SMI to stop its operations and allow the B’laan to decide for
themselves whether to accept or refuse mining operations in their land.
ATM and its partners used the findings as foundation of their actions to stop SMI’s operations. They
organised communities and developed people’s capacities to express and act on their opposition
to the mining company. They held Kastolen-Kastifon, or inter-territorial indigenous people (IP)
conferences, gathering all the B’laan to discuss how to respond to violence and threats from SMI.
In one of these gatherings, they drafted a petition announcing that they would not be involved
in the free and prior informed consent (FPIC) process of the National Commission on Indigenous
Peoples (NCIP). This petition paved the way for dialogue between the B’laan and NCIP officials,
allowing the B’laan to present their views. With the help of ATM, the B’laan also held meetings
with other key government officials, such as the head of the Commission on Human Rights and the
Bureau of Mines and Geosciences. ATM further assisted in initiating a congressional inquiry into the
human rights violations in the Tampakan mining project. During the inquiry, the former town mayor
of Kiblawan, Marivic Diamante, admitted that SMI provided the funds for the military deployment
and operations in the area. The Roman Catholic Church helped put pressure on government by
launching a petition and engaging other government officials in consultations.
6: Protecting the environment to build resilient communities 39

A number of B’laan families evacuated from their area because of the conflict. To prevent the
B’laan from giving in to pressure from the mining company, ATM partners helped them jumpstart
their agricultural livelihood. The people invoked their traditional governance practice of decision
making, or kastifon, to push for the retention of their traditional leadership. They likewise activated
their ancestral defence force to counter any harassment towards the B’laan.
To increase the pressure on government to hold SMI accountable for the conflict and dissuade the
company from continuing its plans, ATM popularised the issue in the media. It also collaborated
with international groups, such as the London Working Group on Mining in the Philippines
and PIPLinks, and Tampakan Forum (a technical working group for the Tampakan anti-mining
campaign) that brought the people’s plight to the attention of the international community. ATM
delivered a statement during the UN Forum on Business and Human Rights, where it presented
the Tampakan case.
After years of strong resistance, mobilisation and advocacy, the B’laan and their support groups
won the fight, with the government temporarily suspending the mining project. Military troops
pulled out of the area. Armed groups, including the communist and Muslim rebels, also respected
the territory of the B’laan after the communities asserted their rights to their land through their
ancestral defence force. Consequently, harassment against the B’laan decreased and the people
started cultivating their farms once more without fear of being hurt or accosted.
Apart from the strong resistance of the people, the Tampakan mining project remains suspended
because of five major obstacles. First, it could not secure an FPIC from the B’laan, which is
required for the government to issue the company with an Environmental Compliance Certificate.
Second, while the municipal government of Tampakan supports mining activities in the area and
has even endorsed the pro-mining ordinances of three villages, the Provincial Environmental Code
restricts the use of open-pit mining methods. Third, there are existing disputes and settlements
within the territory concerning overlapping tenurial instruments. Agricultural land and prime
agricultural land within the mining area are covered by laws separate from the Mining Act. Using
them for mining requires the approval of different government agencies. Fourth, because of the
huge estimated production value of the mining operations, government agencies are debating
whether they should apply a new tax formula for the mining project. Fifth, given the size and
potential impact of the project on the environment and communities, the government is still
looking for safeguards that will hold the mining company responsible for the permanent impact
of its operations even after the mine life of 50 years.
The successful campaign inspired the social action centres of three provinces, including that
of South Cotabato, to create a coalition of groups working to protect the same ecosystem.
These groups campaign against projects that allow operations of coal mining and coal-fired
power plants, promote proper water management, and carry out other advocacy to protect the
ecosystem. Called SOCCSKSARGEND-CARE (the acronym for the provinces and cities in the
region – South Cotabato, Cotabato, Sultan Kudarat, Sarangani and General Santos City), this
coalition would serve as a platform for consolidating the various advocacies of member groups,
as well as a space where they could link and complement one another’s advocacy work.
The risk of SMI and other mining companies operating in Tampakan is still present. One is still left to
ask: With the government’s drive for economic growth, what will happen to the country’s remaining
natural resources and the people dependent on these? Where global crises in food and energy can
spur the demand for land among foreign states, multinational and national companies, how can
marginalised and grassroots communities and their support groups continue to ensure that their
land and lives are not sacrificed? The case of Tampakan shows one path that communities facing

these threats can take. Alternative paths can be sought as risks evolve and uncertainty intensifies.
Meanwhile, the success achieved by these communities has bolstered people’s confidence in
facing and managing these types of threat. Their confidence is reinforced by the strong links they
have formed with the Roman Catholic Church, civil society groups, some state officials, the media
and even the international community. While before they were alone in their fight, now they have
strong allies helping them protect their ancestral land and pursue a dignified life.
Organising for our land: RWAN and MOFA

Small-scale Filipino farmers remain the second poorest sector in the country after small fisherfolk,
earning a daily income of US$3-$4, which is not enough to meet the basic needs of a family of
five.12 A majority still use expensive agricultural chemicals that cost them approximately US$250
every cropping. Often, they obtain loans from different sources to finance their farming inputs. In
many cases, what they earn during harvest season is not enough for them to repay their debts,
thus putting them in an endless cycle of indebtedness.
Harvest every season is highly uncertain, as agricultural productivity is heavily dependent on the
weather, which has become increasingly extreme and unpredictable. Added factors include the
presence of pests, poor irrigation systems and poor soil quality. The period from 1997 to 1998,
for instance, saw one of the Philippines’ worst droughts. Severe typhoons and floods that cost
agriculture billions in damages occurred in the following years.
Soil productivity is declining for a number of reasons, one of which is the promotion of chemical-
based inputs in the current industrial agriculture system. Even with the increasing use of synthetic
fertilisers and pesticides, the growth of harvest yields remains hardly significant to improve the
income of farmers, according to the Food and Agriculture Organization.13 Yet the cost of these
inputs constitutes almost 75% of farming expenditure in a cropping season. Their effect on the
natural environment is also worth noting, as studies have found nitrates in water reservoirs and
wells in rural areas in the Philippines, which can directly and indirectly harm people’s health.14
While the agriculture sector employs more labour force than other sectors and contributes a
critical public good – food – it continues to suffer from low productivity. This is attributed to
the minimal government investment in agriculture, conversion of agricultural land for commercial
purposes, and weak agriculture infrastructure, among other reasons.
This is just a glimpse of the economic setbacks the agriculture sector has been enduring for a
long time. It does not even capture the emotional, social and physical distress and pressures
experienced by farmers as they struggle to survive and recover what was lost.
It was this scenario that pushed Rice Watch and Action Network to start a climate resiliency
field school (CRFS) in 2010. RWAN is a group of NGOs and individuals that study and advocate
sustainable agriculture production, pro-farmer rice trade policies and increased government
support for the rice industry. It opened the CRFS to provide farmers with access to weather or
climate information daily, weekly and per season; understanding of its potential negative impact;
and advice on how to manage the risks and adapt their farming practices to increasingly extreme
or unpredictable weather. RWAN teaches farmers sustainable agriculture or climate-appropriate
farming, including systems of rice intensification, biodiversity conservation through varietal seed
selection and breeding, organic farming, and rainwater harvesting or rain shelter. It also trains
them in farm or livelihood diversification, including organic fertiliser production, seed production,
vegetable production and livestock integration. RWAN further emphasises the value of insurance
and the importance of farmer organisations in accessing government support programs. Beyond

promoting sustainable agriculture, it espouses a more comprehensive, dynamic approach that
considers past and present risks as well as future threats brought about by extreme, unpredictable
weather.
In 2012, farmers from Tubigon, Bohol Province, were in the middle of the season-long CRFS
training when they came up with the idea of forming themselves into an association. Raide, the
leader of what would become the Matabao Organic Farmers Association (MOFA), recounted:
‘The training had not yet ended when the need to group ourselves just dawned on me and
the other farmer trainees. We said that we could not put our future in other people’s hands.
It is we who should control it.’
Raide is a retired secondary school teacher. The other farmers, many of whom are his former
students, look up to him. One of them, Frank, an agriculturist, said:
‘We formed the group because that is one way we could access government programs and
get external funding support. From what we have learned in CRFS, organic farming would
be laborious at the start, particularly when we begin producing our own organic fertiliser
and pesticides. It would require us to pool together as many raw materials as possible so
that we could produce more inputs.’
A few months after the training, MOFA started producing organic fertiliser and selling it to
members at a fair price, without interest. This activity was intended to generate funds for the
association. Little did the members expect that their market would grow in a few months’ time.
Frank was able to link MOFA with buyers from private sector groups. The association also sold
fertiliser to private resorts in the province.
To encourage its members to promote and sell its fertiliser, MOFA provides them with incentives.
For instance, for every sack of fertiliser sold by a member, MOFA earns US$6 and the farmer
gets a US$1 commission.
In 2013, an earthquake and a typhoon destroyed MOFA’s farmer facility and washed away its
stock of organic inputs. Instead of giving up, each of the farmer members offered either monetary
or non-monetary resources to recover their lost stock. RWAN helped rebuild the facility through
a Christian Aid earthquake recovery grant to the province. It also linked MOFA with Greenpeace
when the latter distributed organic seeds and fertilisers to farmers in another province who
were affected by the typhoon. Australian National University supported MOFA’s organic fertiliser
livelihood, while the local government and other farmers bought MOFA’s products. Because of
these initiatives, the farmers were able to recover from the aftermath of the earthquake and
typhoon more quickly.
Through the CRFS, common learning platforms were created, which farmers then used to study
the changing risks to their farms and adopt the appropriate response through agro-ecosystem
analysis. Farmer gatherings have developed into a social exercise in which farmers collectively
measure and observe their crops, monitor insects and pests, and engage in other farming
activities. These have become more than just a part of their season-long CRFS training but a
regular activity even after the training has ended, forging solidarity among farmers. Lucas, a
farmer member of MOFA, said:
‘I live far from the other farmers so I used to farm alone. But when we started MOFA, we
always make it a point to visit the farms of our co-farmers to help them with their concerns.

They visited my farm before when I asked them to help me check my crops. I am more
confident now that I can have better harvests because I have other farmers to talk to about
farming. I can reach out to our members and seek help.’
He shared how this activity has changed his farming practice and attitude:
‘Land for me was just a thing to maximise for profit. This was why I kept on using chemical
fertilisers. I knew it was bad for our health. In fact, my family did not even consume the
crops I planted. But it was also the only way of farming I knew. I was never conscientious
and attentive to my farm. CRFS changed this. Now, I visit it daily and observe the insects
and my crops. I learned from CRFS that not all insects are bad for the crops. We were
taught that one way of protecting our crops from increasingly extreme and unpredictable
weather is through organic farming. It not only protects our crops and our land but our
health as well.’
MOFA receives guests and learners at the organic fertiliser production facility. (RWAN)
The farmers have grown more interested in learning new methods of organic farming. Frank,
who studied agriculture in college, uses the Internet to generate innovative ideas and to network
and exchange information with agriculture scientists from other countries. These scientists
generously taught the farmers how to formulate organic fertilisers and insecticides that they are
now selling to their members and other interested groups.
RWAN believes building the resilience of farmers is a huge task requiring collaboration among
various stakeholders, most important of which is the government as the institution mandated
to secure the well-being of its citizens. The CRFS greatly relies on the support of the local
government in disseminating climate and weather information, and extending the necessary
technical assistance to the farmers. This is the reason RWAN ensured the involvement of local
government offices early in the inception of the CRFS, giving them a sense of ownership of its
outcomes and holding them accountable as duty bearers. The Tubigon municipal agriculture
office has come to recognise the value of the CRFS through RWAN’s advocacy work and after

seeing the positive outcomes of the project in the field. To sustain the intervention, RWAN
participated in the government budget planning process and made sure funds were allocated for
the project in the annual budget plan. MOFA, in turn, has earned the respect of the municipal
agriculture office, which now calls on its members to conduct CRFS training for other farmers.
‘It is rare to see farmers organising themselves and having the initiative to really seek ways to
improve their farms and their lives,’ said Yolanda, municipal agriculture officer for Tubigon. ‘They
inspire us here in the agriculture office to extend our support to their organisation,’ she added.
With the growth of the organisation comes the personal growth of its members. Lucas said:
‘I never thought I would become a trainer one day. I also did not care much about other
people’s farms. Now I find myself teaching other farmers how to prepare organic fertilisers,
especially when the municipal agriculture office asks me to be part of the training.’
With its growing reputation in organic farming in the municipality, MOFA became a member of
an organic farming association at the provincial level, allowing it to penetrate a wider organic
farming circle. Being a part of this network provided members with space for articulating their
position on organic product certifications and holding discussions with other farmers about their
problems. MOFA has been planning to market its organic fertilisers to a larger market within and
outside the province. But not having third party certification prohibits them from doing so. To
obtain this certification, each farmer is required to have at least 30 metres of buffer land within
their organic farms to ensure protection of the produce from possible chemical contamination.
According to Frank, this requirement is not applicable to them, since most of their lands are
just half a hectare in size. Only big commercial organic farming companies could comply with
it. Recognising that they are up against dominant players in the business, MOFA proposed that
instead of complying with this requirement and expanding their market, they would just negotiate
a higher price for their products by following the price of commercial organic rice.
All this is a huge feat for RWAN, whose small investment in one municipality has set off a string
of outcomes that help build resilient farming communities. The CRFS has changed the attitudes
and practice of farmers, who are now proponents of organic farming. Their relationship with the
land has improved, as they have become more observant and nurturing to their farms. A learning
and collaborative culture has emerged that enables them to address directly any emerging risk
that could lead to production failure or loss. Being organised has given them a stronger voice and
better leverage in claiming their rights from the duty bearers. Their social capital has broadened.
A space for negotiating their rights as organic farmers has been opened. All these are valuable
steps towards building their resilience.
Still, their journey towards empowerment is a work in progress, as critical questions remain to
be answered: How does one protect the instrument used to generate and disseminate climate
information from other hazards such as an earthquake or a power outage to ensure it continues
to function during critical weather periods? How can small-scale organic farmers pursue a fair
share of the value of their labour and product in a market that is dominated by bigger and
influential players? How can the state maintain a balance between the interests of the people and
environment and the interests of the corporate elite, when its economy is greatly influenced by
the latter? More questions are expected to arise as new risks emerge. But the transformation and
accomplishment of grassroots organisations such as MOFA raise one’s confidence in the ‘power
within’ of small-scale farmers to create their own path to resilience.

7
Learning for resilience
The previous chapters have shown the complexity and diversity of risks that constantly evolve
and interact with one another. Addressing them therefore calls for solutions that are flexible
enough to accommodate shifts in the risk environment and opportunities available. The need to
study the environment constantly is clear. While learning about things that have yet to happen
is challenging and can often be frustrating, holding on to static knowledge and the status quo
limits one’s adaptive capacity to address new threats, thus increasing one’s vulnerability. There
must be personal and institutional humility to recognise and accept the uncertain and to agree
to transform thinking and practice that are no longer suitable to the current realities.15 Learning,
therefore, is a core element of building adaptive capacity within the individual person, the family,
and the community and across organisations. In this context, however, learning is not confined to
knowledge gained from training and printed materials. It involves studying risks and opportunities
and constantly re-examining the changing power landscape to expand one’s ability to anticipate
changes, adapt to them and thrive amidst diversity and uncertainties.
The stories presented here demonstrate how the drive for constant learning by Christian Aid
partners has helped address these uncertainties. FORGE recognised that it had to integrate family
work into its existing community organising approach when it learned that the social gains were
not felt by families and individuals. SPI grounded its community organising work in khalifah and
interfaith work to heal deep wounds of hatred and neglect among the Moro and restore good
relationships across all faiths. Both FORGE and SPI were able to address the gaps of the traditional
community organising approach. ATM recalibrated its campaign schemes and networking
strategies when it realised that it was opposing a powerful and influential mining company. To
address the uncertainties emerging from climate risks, RWAN went beyond promoting sustainable
agriculture to espousing a more comprehensive, dynamic approach through its climate resiliency
field school. Philnet introduced innovations in the market chain to assure poor woman weavers
of a constant supply of raw materials and a market for their nito plates.
This next story shows why a development organisation modified its ways of working to assist
an urban poor community that is facing multiple risks. It presents how its culture of learning has
evolved from enhancing organisational capacities to making paradigm shifts in organisational
practices and actions.
In Davao City, several urban villages are situated along the banks of Davao River. A number
of informal settler families reside in high-risk areas, such as river easements and along the
shoreline. Mindanao Land Foundation (MinLand) recognised that the location posed a threat to
the communities. MinLand is an NGO which has been working on various concerns of urban poor
communities in Davao City since 1989, including land tenure security and land use planning,
voluntary resettlement and social housing, community organising and governance, community
savings and credit. It launched a disaster risk reduction programme so that the villages would be
ready in case of floods, flash floods or fire. Community-based disaster action teams were formed,
communities were mobilised to implement disaster preparedness activities and advocacy work
was pursued with the local government. MinLand also helped families develop a resettlement
action and framework plan.
45
MinLand knew, however, that this programme was not
enough to protect the families from the imminent threats
of flood and eviction. In a workshop, MinLand studied the
threats with regional civil society partners in Mindanao.
The city government believed the floods were caused by
the city’s poor drainage system, but scientific studies
pointed to three headwaters as sources of floodwater.
Davao River is a complex ecosystem, with its waters
coming from three headwaters whose geopolitical
boundaries lie in the largely upland and rural portions of
Davao City and two provinces. It traverses urban lowland
and rural upland communities, where modes of living
and governance are diverse. These areas are exposed to
multiple risks within the watershed: land tenure security,
urban community development, voluntary resettlement,
poor health and sanitation, and overlapping governance.
It was clear that addressing the issues individually would

not solve the complex problem of flooding in the urban
lowlands of Davao City. MinLand thus asked: Why don’t A community member monitors the
we also intervene upstream, where floodwaters come waters of Davao River as part of the
from? Why don’t we adopt an ecosystem-based approach community’s disaster preparedness
that will link these vulnerable communities and allow measures. (MinLand)
them to prepare for these risks?
By taking on a new approach, MinLand was aware that it was treading on new ground that
would require the organisation to step out of its comfort zone and apply new strategies and
ways of working. MinLand married its experience in disaster preparedness with its experience
in community governance and housing associations from previous Misereor and Christian Aid-
assisted projects to identify suitable strategies and approaches. It formed disaster action teams
and installed water-level gauges in upstream rural areas. Since the risks covered a range of
sectors, MinLand had to expand its links horizontally by collaborating with 32 civil society groups,
scientists, academics and other relevant actors. Climate scientists and geologists were asked
to help install and operate a flood control system linking upland and downstream areas and to
teach MinLand staff how to interpret technical information in a way that the communities would
understand. With 113 communities lying along the banks of Davao River, MinLand saw the need
for accurate and swift exchange of information between upland and downstream communities.
Scientists assisted in developing a community-based terrain analysis that could help improve the
resettlement action plans and framework for the informal settler families.
MinLand acknowledged that it had to learn and develop new tools for responding to the current
needs and context. Simply relying on information from the national weather station was not
helpful because it did not consider local rainfall patterns and topographic, micro-climate and
geological conditions that strongly affected the flow, time and strength of floodwaters in
the Davao River watershed. MinLand engaged its team working on post-conflict community
development in central Mindanao to mentor the team in Davao City on how to combine standard
risk analysis tools, such as PVCA, with other non-risk analysis instruments, such as thematic
maps and terrain analysis. The team from central Mindanao used comprehensive and expanded
thematic maps to establish the poverty and conflict situation in the communities, as well as to
develop, monitor and evaluate the progress of their action plans. These same tools also helped

the Davao City team further understand the nature and potential impact of floodwaters from the
watershed. This intra-organisational learning is embedded in MinLand’s practice, with the Davao
City team likewise mentoring the central Mindanao team in disaster risk reduction.
MinLand recognised that solving the problem of flooding would require intervention upstream as
well as downstream. This meant moving beyond its urban strategies to include those that were
suitable for rural areas. The ecosystem-based or watershed approach led the group to collaborate
with the Davao City government and the local governments of two other provinces. MinLand had
to broaden its network vertically and prepare itself to work with 137 village governments, three
municipal governments, two provincial governments and one city government. It volunteered
to sit in the governing board of the Davao River Water Quality Management Area, composed of
government agencies and government-owned and controlled corporations (such as the Davao
City Water District), academe, scientists, communities and the provincial government. MinLand
was involved in developing and implementing plans and agreements to protect the watershed,
mitigate floods along Davao River, improve water quality and ensure the safe relocation of
informal settler families. It also took on tasks and posts within the Davao City government to
guarantee that policy planning considered the welfare of informal settler families. It embraced the
challenges that came with its new roles and made sure community concerns were highlighted
and addressed in these spaces.
MinLand leveraged its membership in the governing board of the Davao River Water Quality
Management Area to advance the advocacy points it had agreed with other civil society
organisations in the region. One of these is to strengthen governance among the vulnerable
and poorest communities in the urban lowland and rural upland areas. This would ensure all
development, climate change adaptation and disaster risk reduction initiatives are working
coherently for the communities’ benefit in both the short and long term. MinLand also posed
difficult questions to the board: How do we address the resettlement concerns of informal settler
families living along the riverbanks in rural and urban areas? How do we stop private factories
from polluting the river? These questions had been asked countless of times and yet were resolved
with dry technical fixes.
Studying the landscape and the risks it posed, MinLand and its network continued to reflect
and analyse how urban and rural advocacies could be connected. In one of the board sessions,
MinLand brought up the issue pertaining to the high coliform count in Davao River. Government
officials and some stakeholder groups often blamed informal settler families and their livestock
for this, but MinLand challenged the board to look into large industries and subdivisions located
near the river easements. It also proposed that the board investigate a dumpsite set up by the
city government in an upland area near the waterways. The risks posed by the dump site to
the communities directly surrounding it and all the communities dependent on the Davao River
convinced MinLand to rethink the communities it would prioritise for its governance and resilience
project. It thus included one of the communities located near the dumpsite in this project.
Cognisant of the complex risks facing the communities and the need to go beyond ‘development
as usual’ interventions, MinLand was prompted to ask difficult questions that would challenge
its status quo. From building the organisation’s capacity for disaster risk reduction and learning
or acquiring new tools and knowledge to enrich this capacity, MinLand developed and expanded
its strategies to combine the community-based approach with the ecosystem-based approach.
It was this culture of learning that enabled MinLand to pursue its advocacies with an openness
to constructively criticising its own actions and innovating, and learning and relearning ways
7: Learning for resilience 47

of working based on the realities on the ground. It took on new roles and engagements that
could produce outcomes helpful to urban poor communities in better adapting and responding
to the risks. It widened its network vertically to gain more leverage in influencing policy and
decision-making processes in government and horizontally to produce sound analyses and plans
to mitigate flooding in the city.
Change is often feared or avoided by organisations, as it puts them in an ambiguous state. What
if the new strategies fail? Why can’t we stick to our tried and tested approaches? Why change our
organisational goals? Why take on new tasks when we have yet to accomplish our present tasks?
How open are organisations to reinventing themselves and their strategies? How can it be easier
for organisations to reinvent themselves? Yet as the case of MinLand has shown, development
organisations have to expand their adaptive capacity and be ready to create paradigm shifts
internally to address the complex risks and reduce the uncertainties faced by poor communities.

Endnotes
1 Christian Aid, Poverty Over, London: Christian Aid, 2009, p7.
2 Ibid, p3.
3 Christian Aid. Thriving, Resilient Livelihoods: Christian Aid’s approach, London: Christian
Aid, 2012, p1.
4 Ibid.
5 Christian Aid, Partnership for Change: The power to end poverty, London: Christian Aid,
2012.
6 Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), Climate Change 2007: Impacts, adaptation
and vulnerability, Contribution of Working Group II to the Fourth Assessment, Report of the
Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press,
2007; N. Klein, The Shock Doctrine: The rise of disaster capitalism, London: Penguin Group,
2007.
7 Leonor Magtolis Briones, Alternative Budget Initiative: Three-year experience, Quezon City:
Social Watch Philippines, 2010.
8 Social Watch Philippines, ‘Fulfill promises for budget reform!’, 2013, accessed 30 May 2015,
https://socialwatchphilippines.wordpress.com/category/alternative-budget-initiative/
9 See note 7.
10 See note 7.
11 Social Watch Philippines, ‘Group welcomes P22 billion cut from PSEPF’, 2013, accessed
30 May 2015, https://socialwatchphilippines.wordpress.com/category/financing-for-development/
12 National Statistical Coordination Board (NSCB), ‘Fishermen, farmers and children remain the
poorest basic sectors’, 2014, last updated 30 April 2015, accessed 30 April 2015, www.
nscb.gov.ph/pressreleases/2014/PSA-%20PR-20140704-SS2-01 _ poorestsector.asp
13 Greenpeace, Agrochemical Use in the Philippines and Its Consequences to the Environment,
Philippines: Greenpeace, 2008.
14 Ibid.
15 CCS, MaCEC and SAC-Northern Quezon, ‘A Voyage to Disaster Resilience in Small Islands:
A guide for local leaders’, Quezon City, Philippines, 2011.
49
Contact us
Christian Aid Philippines

2/F Manila Observatory Building
Ateneo de Manila University
Loyola Heights, Quezon City, 1108
Philippines
Telephone: +632 441-1117; 426-5921 to 23
christianaid.org.uk/thephilippines
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Company no. 426928. The Christian Aid name and logo are trademarks of Christian Aid. Christian Aid is a key member of ACT Alliance. © Christian Aid August 2015 15-J4366

Strengthening Power From Below PPA Resilience

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Strengthening

power from below:

We work globally for profound change that eradicates the

We provide urgent, practical and effective assistance

Christian Aid is a member of

Introduction: Empowering communities towards resilience 5

1 Putting civil society and grassroots voices in spaces of governance 9

Claiming rights by amplifying community voice: FORGE 10

2 Engaging civil society networks for building resilience 15

3 Recasting community organising for resilience 19

4 Turning markets into channels for resilience 27

Weaving their way through resilience: UPA and KABALIKAT 27

5 Accessing public finance for resilience building 32

Directing people’s funds towards coastal resource preservation: Coastal CORE 33

6 Protecting the environment to build resilient communities 38

People’s movement against mining: ATM 38

7 Learning for resilience 45

ABI Alternative Budget Initiative

6 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Introduction: Empowering communities towards resilience 7

8 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Claiming rights by amplifying

10 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Community voices in national housing negotiations: PHILSSA and AKKMA

1: Putting civil society and grassroots voices in spaces of governance 11

Partnership of Philippine Support Service Agencies (PHILSSA) is a network of NGOs working

12 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Civil society voices in global and national climate change negotiations: AK

Knowing government’s predisposition to top-down policy making, AK made it clear to the

1: Putting civil society and grassroots voices in spaces of governance 13

14 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Resilience building should be advanced from a development perspective and supplemented by

16 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Participating in decision-making processes that have an impact on people’s lives is no longer

2: Engaging civil society networks for building resilience 17

18 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

20 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Sultan Maguid recognised

3: Recasting community organising for resilience 21

22 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Changing mindsets, transforming lives: Coastal CORE

3: Recasting community organising for resilience 23

The first official activity involved gathering

24 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Putting the spotlight on the family: FORGE

3: Recasting community organising for resilience 25

26 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Weaving their way through resilience: UPA and KABALIKAT

28 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

Many of the women earned extra

Reinforcing consolidators to uphold community resilience: Philnet

4: Turning markets into channels for resilience 29

Sibuyan is a small island that is highly

30 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

4: Turning markets into channels for resilience 31

Why do we need to pay attention to a government’s budget? Because it is a government’s

Directing people’s funds towards coastal resource preservation: Coastal CORE

5: Accessing public finance for resilience building 33

Shirley, Coastal CORE executive director, reflected on their experience:

34 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

‘Democracy is precisely a marketplace of ideas where different advocacies and proposals

5: Accessing public finance for resilience building 35

36 Strengthening Power from Below: Stories of resilience from the Philippines

5: Accessing public finance for resilience building 37