FINAL DRAFTDecember 2004

Life on the fast track: Mobilizing the urban poor for change

Djorina Velasco1

Introduction

“Hindi kami squatter. Nakikitira lang kami rito.” Bhoy Vino, December 2003

The poignancy of the above quote is, unfortunately, lost in translation. Bhoy Vinois a jeepney driver from Manila who has lived in an urban poor community alonga railway track all his life. We are not squatters. We just live here, he says.Nakikitira is a participative conjugation of the Tagalog verb for “reside”. Itconnotes collectivity and shared action.

There are many ways of avoiding the use of the word 'squatter': urban poor,informal settler, makeshift dweller. Politically correct language allowsdevelopment planners, social workers and aid agencies to talk about urbanpoverty in terms of problems and solutions, devoid of emotional content.

The people themselves are of course a different lot. The articulations of theirlives, struggles and identities are steeped in raw emotions. Their indignation ispalpable in every conversation, but so is their humor and wit.

Bhoy's wife, Edna, has a different take on her husband's comment: “Hindi akosquatter. Maganda ako!” I'm not a squatter. I'm pretty! She laughs and goes onexpressing her resentment at the derogatory meanings of the term. We are notthieves. We are no syndicate. We are not a problem. We know how to helpourselves. All we need are friends from the outside.

This case study tells the story of the mobilizations that are taking place in Ednaand Bhoy's community. The community spans a stretch of ten kilometers,alongside a single railway track of the Philippine National Railway (PNR). Tightlyclustered along the track, within the 15-meter danger zone, are the homes of noless than 10,471 families2.

1 Although the views put forward here are those of the author, no research is a product of asingular effort. Without the stories and reflections of the people of HARF and especiallyReynaldo Ablay, this work would not never have come to life. Invaluable support also camefrom Leonardo delos Reyes III and Rafael Albert of the Center for Popular Empowerment. Mycollaborators, comrades and friends: Mabuhay kayo!

2 Government census data show that of the total number of households, about half arehomeowners or co-owners. Of the 7,003 structures found in the community, 5,074 are purely

In many ways, their community is like numerous others in the developing world,in Bangkok or Jakarta. Driven by poverty, this is where rural migrants begin their“city lives” alongside descendants of Manila's underclasses. Lower echelonemployees live next to contractual laborers. Women augment family income bydoing other people’s laundry. Children earn a few Pesos by selling recyclablegarbage to junk shops. Some peddle street food and cigarettes to motorists atthe nearby highway. Living conditions are crowded and sanitation is poor. Manychildren suffer from chronic coughs. Supply of clean drinking water is unevenand there are only few streetlights at night. Drugs and alcohol are common formsof escape.

Then there are the obvious dangers of being side-swiped, injured or killed by aspeeding train. In some areas of the community, there is barely half a meterdistance between the track and a home's doorstep.

And there is also the human insecurity that is taking its toll on those living in thedanger zone. Many have experienced the trauma of demolition: witnessing thedestruction of one's home, uprooting one's school-aged children and theuncertainty of finding new work. Others have been hardened by periodic threatsand “false alarms”.

Yet, despite the insecurity, not all have lost their sense of control over their fates.Associational ties at the grassroots level have given rise to numerous localneighborhood organizations, which in turn have federated into a local movementthat is giving expression to people's contentions and assertions.

The aim of this study is to surface the history, inner workings, external contextand significance of this urban movement, both as a unique example of localcollective action and a reflection of wider urban struggles.

The local movement in focus is of particularly interesting, since it represents acommunity that has not benefited from external development interventions. Itthus provides insights into self-mobilizing strategies of the urban poor,autonomous of Church or NGO-led community community organizing found inadjacent localities.

The urban condition: the push and pull of modernization

“Cities are living systems, made, transformed and experienced by people. Urban forms and functions are produced and managed

by the interaction between space and society, that is by the historical relationship between

human consciousness, matter, energy and information. “Manuel Castells, Introduction to The City and the Grassroots, 1983.

residential, while the rest of the structures combine residential with commercial use (smallstores) or serve as storage or small-scale workshops.

This case study of one of numerous urban poor communities in the Philippinecapital is set against the backdrop of the urban drama of a “primate city” (Eversand Korff, 2000) such as Manila.

Traffic is horrendous, the mass of people and vehicles suffocating3. Air pollutioncoats the entire city in gray dust. Everyday, people make even the mostuninhabitable parts of the city a place to live and call home: river embankments,garbage dumps, shorelines, bridges.

Amidst the greyness, are islands of green: sprawling lawns surroundingshopping malls and government buildings, church yards, and the homes of theupper class who live behind tall, white walls.

It is often said that Manila is both the country's biggest sewer and gateway to theworld. It is a smoldering waste site and temple of consumerism all at once. It isan orphanage to the downtrodden and playground to the rich.

The contrasts are stark, by any measure.

The urban poor community in focus is located in the southern tip of themetropolis, bordering the province of Laguna. Muntinlupa City, literallytranslated, means “little land”. It is one of twelve component cities that compriseMetro Manila. With a view of rolling hills and the Laguna de Bay Lake,Muntinlupa used to be a sleepy suburb to the mega-city of Manila.

This is no longer the case. Within the last decade, the city has grown into animportant information technology hub. It boasts of an ultra-modern business parkand one of the country's most advanced medical facilities.

Yet at the same time, it is home to more than 40,000 urban poor households outof a total household population of 78,0004. Like in the rest of Manila, these urbansettlements are populated by migrants from different parts of the archipelago,their children and grandchildren, the proverbial melting pot of various localidentities.

Dissecting the city, from north to south, is the train system of the PhilippineNational Railway. The trains have become a symbol of urban decay. Dilapidatingtrains ferry people and goods to and from nearby provinces—not the mostconvenient from of transport. The carriages offer little protection from heat andrain. In some parts of the city, it has become a bizarre sport to hurl objects attrains passing by. In the year 2003, the subsidized government corporationregistered a net loss of 644 million Pesos5. 3 Based on 2004 figures, Metro Manila has a total population of 10,330,100. Population density

is about 15,600 people per square kilometre. 4 According to the Asian Development Bank, the share of informal 'slum' settlers in all of Metro

Manila is 35 percent.5 This amount is roughly equivalent to 11.5 million US dollars [current exchange rate: 1

All this, however, will drastically change soon.

The decongestion of Metro Manila is one of the cornerstones of President GloriaMacapagal-Arroyo's ten-point agenda, the guiding framework of her second termof office, which began in June 2004. Although her predecessors also hadambitious plans of rehabilitating the capital city's train system, they lacked thecapital to do so.

President Arroyo was able to clinch the necessary deals. The northern stretchwill be financed by a four hundred million US dollar loan by Chinese investors.South Korean creditors will infuse another thirty-five million US dollars for thesouthern stretch. State-of-the-art passenger terminals will be constructed andbrand-new, airconditioned carriages introduced to cater to the upwardly-mobilecommuters.

Loan agreements have been signed and the government is beginning the 'socialpreparation' phase of the project. The Philippine counterpart consists of clearingthe right of way, so that construction can begin. In other words, the governmentis in charge of demolishing urban poor communities that are, literally, “in theway” of development. Within Metro Manila alone, at least 70,000 families standto be affected.

What picture are we presented with here?

The subject of this case study at hand is an example of a global-national-localdynamic that is emerging not just in Manila, but in urban centers the world over.Evers and Korff (2000:2) find that:

“The primate cities are the places of articulation of globalization,national integration and localization. These processes have theirorigin and reach beyond the metropolis but, and this gives aspecific quality to the primate cities, coincide within the citieswhich gives rise to an ambivalence. The cities are neither globalnor local or national. They are a combination of all these, andalthough they are regarded as foci of alienation and corruptedways of life.... they are equally much developing into showcasesof global modernity and expressions of national self-consciousness.”

This dynamic is not entirely a recent phenomenon. In preparation of the 1974Miss Universe beauty contest, the city of Manila was cleared of an estimated onehundred thousand 'squatters', and another sixty thousand were uprooted for the1976 International Monetary Fund-World Bank conference6. The public face of

US$:56P].6 These figures are cited by Carroll (1998:119), based on Walden Bello, at al. Development

Debacle: The World Bank in the Philippines (San Fransisco: Institute for Food and

such “beautification” drives, which continued until the early 1980's, was no otherthan First Lady Imelda Marcos.

One distinct characteristic of the urban system of Metro Manila is thus itsorientation towards national political structures (Karaos 2003). It is not enoughfor urban poor communities in the capital city to grapple with administrators intheir local districts. By necessity, because national political figures have aninterest in the 'development' of Manila, these mobilizations must also be orientedtowards political processes emanating from the top--be it the president in poweror the national bureaucracy.

In broad strokes, this case study at hand is about a local community, which isasserting itself against a national modernization project, which in turn is madepossible by global capital. It is about urban poor mobilizations that are local innature, but targeted at players and forces that are at once local, national andglobal. It is about the experiences of local self-mobilization in the context of theurban push and pull of modernization, where communities are struggling for theirbasic economic entitlements but also for the recognition of their political rights ascitizens of the republic. To borrow Castell's (1983) words, the case study is aboutthe unleashing of a local urban movement through the interaction between“human consciousness, matter, energy and information”—the components ofwhich we examine in succeeding sections.

'Subsistence mobilizations': the role of primary organizations

“Dito isa lang ang siga: tren”Mario Papa, December 2003.

Poverty is not a hindrance to building a community.

The people call themselves “taga-riles”, those from the railway. In a sense, thetracks have become part of who they are and how they refer to themselves.Although people readily acknowledge that the community is composed ofmigrants from various ethno-linguistic groups, these become less salient markersof identity over time. Second generation settlers, in fact, hardly speak thelanguage of their parents7. The lingua franca in the community is Tagalog, thenational language spoken in Manila and surrounding provinces.

“Masaya kami rito,” shares Edna Vino, who owns a small store along the tracks.We are happy here. “Buhay na buhay ang bayanihan dito.” The community spiritis very much alive here. Every morning, she begins her day by stepping outsideher house to greet her neighbors and share in their lives. Houses are seamlessly

Development Policy, 1982).7 Berner (1997:68-73) in his survey of Metro Manila urban poor localities finds that although

migration is patterned after personalistic and kinship ties, ethnicity is irrelevant to marriagepatters as well as social distance and closeness. Moreover, “there are hardly any ethnicallyhomogeneous residential areas in Metro Manila” (Berner: 1997:70).

built next to each other in a single row, to the left and right of the single railwaytrack. There are no backyards and the front porch is the railway track. Leadingand unanimous existence seems impossible in such a setting.

The railway track is a marketplace and social hub rolled into one, where childrenplay and adults gather. It's where chicken are raised and vegetables arepeddled. It's where meals are cooked and bathwater is pumped. It's whereclothes are washed and dried. It's where people have a drink after work and thewomen paint each others' fingernails. Activity on the track is only momentarilyinterrupted when a train passes through the people's “front yard”.

First-time visitors to the community are often amused at the ingenuity of the localmeans of transport: the trolley. Propelled by “human power”, these wood andbamboo constructions are fitted with bearings and wheels to glide on the railwaytracks. Resembling queen-sized beds, they can comfortably fit six adults. Someeven have huge umbrellas as a protection from rain and blazing midday sun.Because light-weight materials are used, trolleys are easily lifted from the tracks,in case a train or another trolley from the opposite direction passes by.

The first settlers moved to the area in the early 1960s. The first houses were fewand far between. In fact, the pioneers in the area maximized the available landby planting vegetables.

The first demolition happened in 1972, at the onset of martial law. But less than amonth later, they returned. Although 'squatting' was criminalized during martiallaw, the Philippine National Railways used to sell 'rights' to settlers. WritesBerner (1997:69):

“The fact that squatting is illegal, and consequently, not regulatedby the state not mean that it is not regulated at all. On the contrary,there is an elaborate system of 'and rights' that are bought, sold,inherited, l leased temporarily, most often based on the originaldevelopment of the area.”

These rights are no substitute for land titles, but in a sense, acknowledge thepeople's 'claim' to their homes. These rights are recorded and remain in effect tothis day, although they are of no market value at present, given the impendingthreat of demolition.

The first neighborhood associations came about from the mid-1980's to the early1990's. Bhoy Vino recalls the first efforts at gaining recognition:

“That was in May 1993. This is when Barangay Tunasancelebrates its fiesta8. We were never invited to the barangay

8 Fiestas are a legacy of Spanish colonialism. They are annual celebration's of a locality's'patron saint. The barangay is the lowest political-administrative unit in the Philippine setting,roughly equivalent to a rural village or urban settlement. A large barangay may be further

center. The captain never paid attention to us, because we werenot legal, That's when we started to organize ourselves. We firstformed a neighborhood organization, then, eventually, we wererecognized as a sitio. We decided to name our place 'Sitio Pag-asa' [place of hope]. This is how we got our address.”

The act of naming a place and of having an address is both of symbolic andpractical importance. Noel Sibulo tells the story of his place, Losan:

“We made our own name. This was in 1991. Our area is inbetween two subdivisions: Lodora and Sto.Niño Village. The issueat that time was the right of way, because both subdivisions triedto ease us out. Anyway, they were not able to stop us. Wedecided to name our place Lo-san, because we are right inbetween those two villages.”

To name a place is to assert one's ownership over it. It is a powerful act. At thesame time, having an address endows people with a sense of belonging.

The instrumental value of an address is obvious. Without an address, one cannotwrite and receive letters. One cannot become a registered voter. And one cannotavail of basic services.

Many of these 'primary' organizations, in fact, came about because of anelectrification program in the early 1990's. This scheme made it possible forlocally registered neighborhood associations to apply for a legal connection—asopposed to the common practice of illegally tapping into the system. The meter isregistered in the name of the organization. Members pay their bills to theorganization.

In the absence of piped water services, water systems were another motivationfor putting up local organizations. It is no secret that local politicians methodicallywoo poor communities, where there is a high concentration of voters9. Politiciansroutinely donate water pumps to such local organizations. Members pay a one-time bond and monthly fees to avail of water10.

Earnings are used for maintenance or community purposes, such as celebrationsor beautification drives. Streetlights, where available, are managed in a similarfashion. These are one-time donations by politicians and people pay anaffordable monthly contribution of ten Pesos.

subdivided into sitios (or clusters), although these demarcations bear no official functions.9 Unlike many of its neighboring countries, the Philippines has a century-old tradition of holding

sub-national elections. Direct election of municipal executives and councilors was graduallyintroduced during the American colonial administration in the early 1900's.

10 The average rate is a P500 bond and about P300 monthly dues. In some areas, however, ratesare based on consumption. One cubic meter is usually priced at P25. [current exchange rate: 1US$:56P]

Local associations place a high premium on community participation. Membersare expected to help in keeping their surroundings clean and contribute theirlabor to maintain the make-shift sewerage system—although officers usuallycontribute more of their time and efforts than ordinary members.

Problems arise when leaders abuse their position to 'enrich' themselves.11 Intheir typical humor, people complain that there are presidents who are in favor of“privatizing public utilities”. Meaning to say, they pocket the earnings andwithhold audit reports. This kind of betrayal of trust is a common reason fororganizational splits. Disgruntled members bolt the original organization and re-group into a new one. Another source of conflict has to do with the lack of inner democracy. There aremany cases where local organizations' officers do not make themselvesaccountable to the membership and refuse to hold elections—going against theby-laws of the association. There is also the infamous case where a presidentpassed away, an his widow singlehandedly took over the organization. Holding aposition becomes enticing, because it places the person inside the patronagesystem.

This “solicitation culture” is widely acknowledged to be a fact of life in thecommunity. Solicitations are not just means of availing of water systems. Evenyouth basketball leagues or community dances are funded through thismechanism of approaching local politicians for support. It is what makes localleaders greedy for positions, and cooptation an omnipresent reality. This isheightened in a political culture, where officials dispense of donations as if thesewere personal favors, not part of their public service.

Many officials often go out of their way to support local leaders of their choice,who in turn become their local campaigners during election season. Elections forassociation officers have thus become a highly politicized affair. Patrons channelcampaign funds to their chosen candidates, which they use to build support.Allegations abound that the mayor's office supplies sample ballots to associationelections. There have also been cases wherein association members whoopposed incumbent officers were unilaterally de-listed and prevented fromparticipating in association elections.

What this shows is that the people's attitude towards the official state and thepolitical arena, as a diffused entity, is a complicated one.

On the one hand, people in the community are not naïve. They openlydistinguish between 'genuine' leaders motivated by the public good and 'career'operators linked to politicians. They have a better grasp of how local patronagepolitics works than many a university-based political scientist. And they are not

11 In one part of the community, people decided to disconnect the motor and pump watermanually instead. “It's better that way, at least there is nothing to fight about and we don't makeenemies,” they say.

afraid to talk about their deep resentment over this mis-use of power.

On the other hand, the struggles of these local organizations cannot becharacterized as a “rage against the system”. Their struggle is not a push for aradical alternative, but an effort at taking part in the mainstream. “Becominglegal” is a wide-spread aspiration.

People prefer having a legal electricity connection to illegal connections, so thatthey can monitor their consumption. Although quite a number of households arein the possession of mobile phones, which do not require a complicatedregistration process, many would like to avail of regular telephone land lines tocall their relatives in the provinces.

In Muntinlupa, it has become a local tradition that newly elected officers of localpeople's organizations are sworn in at the community affairs office at the city hall.Organizations inform the office of the date of their elections and set a date for theoath-taking. After the officers are sworn in, the organization receives a certificateand the office prepares snacks for a simple “victory party”. Association membersof all stripes find this important, likening it to a christening ceremony. Without abaptismal certificate, no one will recognize a baby as a person, they say.

During the fieldwork for this research, people in different parts of the communityrepeatedly spoke of their desire to be fully recognized as Filipino citizens. Thisconcept of citizenship is juxtaposed to the the discrimination they experience as'squatters'. We are Filipino citizens, we also pay taxes. Every time we light acigarette or have a beer with a friend, we pay taxes, they say. Another joke in thecommunity is that it's alright to pay taxes—anyway, it comes back to us: in theform of demolitions!

People feel very strongly about the current state of injustice. They know that thestate's resources belong to the people, not to elite politicians. This is alsomirrored in their assertion that this is government land. And the government isfor the people. Those who sit there [in positions of power] are just servants, notmasters.

People also complain about the lack of good candidates precludes any “wisechoice” during elections: Of course we take money from politicians who want tobuy our votes. But that does not mean we will actually give them our vote. Thenagain, they are all the same, the politicians here. What do you expect?!

Although members are grimly aware of the power of patronage, they are littleimpressed by those who take advantage of this system. They have no respect forsuch self-aggrandizement. Mario Papa, a commanding figure in the community,knowingly shares: “Dito isa lang ang siga: tren.” There is only one tough guyhere: the train.

This sentiment is echoed in a remark by Luzviminda “Minda” Heng:

“Wala akong kinatatakutan, lalo na pag nasa katwiran ako.Sasagutin kita, kahit pulis ka pa, kahit sino ka pang nasa pwesto.”I'm not not afraid of anything/anyone, especially when I'm on justgrounds. I will answer you back, whoever you are, from the policeor any other any other office holder.

Electricity, water, fiestas—local organizations are pre-occupied with concerns thatare local, if not parochial in nature. Local association meetings are usually calledto resolve conflicts between individuals or over the management of services.

These 'primary' organizations are struggling to make life in the community morelivable through what we might call 'subsistence mobilizations'. These forms ofcollective action are not aimed at changing the political culture, but at fulfillingbasic, material needs. “Larger” political issues are outside their purview. As thesucceeding section will show, the movement character of their actions emergesat a different level of organization.

Home Along da Riles: heading for another track

“Ang pagiging lider ay hindi isang benipisyo kundi sakripisyo.” Rey Ablay, December 2003

Home Along da Riles was a popular Philippine television sitcom throughout the1990's. Its setting and humor were of unmistakable mass appeal, depicting theeveryday lives of a fictitious urban community along the railway track. It is alsothe name the federation of railway residents' organizations chose for itself uponits formation in 1996—an interesting case of life imitating 'art'.

Community organizing along dilapidating railway tracks is no joke. Rey Ablay, afounding leader of the Home Along da Riles Federation (HARF) knows this toowell. Being a leader is not a privilege, it's a sacrifice—is one of his favoritesayings.

Rey's story mirrors some aspects of the “typical” urban poor struggle: the tale ofmigration and brushes with different kinds of organizing.

He will always remember the date he arrived in Manila: May 15, 1978. Born to afamily of sugar plantation workers in the province of Negros Oriental, the twenty-year old decided to escape the poverty at home and join relatives in the big city.The fast-pace city life took some getting used to. In his home province, he says,people used to go to sleep at eight o'clock in the evening, whereas Manila is acity that never seems to sleep.

After drifting from one job to another for a year--planting tomatoes and washingbloodied hospital laundry--he landed a job in a factory in Muntinlupa. For three

years, he worked hard and gradually adjusted to his new life in the city.

Then, in 1982, a month-long strike changed Rey's outlook on life forever. Theprotest songs and chants woke me up to reality, he recalls. I started to questionwhy workers were treated so unfairly. He joined the trade union and eagerlyparticipated in political education sessions. Before he knew it, he rose to becomea union leader, which by that time, affiliated with the radical left movement at theheight of the anti-dictatorship struggle in the mid-1980s.

Rey moved to the riles community in 1988. A married man by then, he moved hisyoung family into an empty apartment. Though not an activist herself, none of hisorganizing would have been possible without his wife. She supports the familythrough her work at a local factory. Rey, in between meetings, took on more andmore household chores, such as attending to his children's needs and washingclothes.

Rey began roaming around in the community, getting to know the people andtheir daily struggles. He quickly learned that the poor in the community tended tobe quite passive and showed little interest in politics beyond their neighborhood—unlike the more militant orientation of union members at the factory.

Then, in 1996, an impending demolition set events into motion. The alarmgalvanized scattered primary organizations into an alliance acrossneighborhoods. The Home Along da Riles Federation, or HARF for short, wasborn. The threat later out to be a false one. The local government of Muntinlupatook sides with the community and successfully countered the plans of thenational government. This initial coalitional effort soon outlived its originalpurpose. The federation was formalized and registered with the Securities andExchange Commission in May 1996. From fourteen organizations at the onset,HARF is presently composed of twenty-one primary organizations from the eightbarangays that encompass the railway community of Muntinlupa. Aside fromsecurity of tenure, perhaps the most fundamental concern, HARF's otherbattlecries revolve around service delivery and livelihood demands.

A seasoned labor organizer, Rey was conscious of building a collective from thestart. Some of his comrades at the factory who also lived at the riles site joinedHARF and together they consolidated the agitated neighborhood organizationsinto a local movement over the years.

The role of HARF is essentially to politicize localized aspirations and bring in amore external orientation. The federation leadership thus lobbies with localgovernment units and represents the community in inter-agency committees ofthe national government.

The engagement with the local legislature has borne some encouraging results.Because of pressure from HARF and other organizations, the municipal councilpassed a resolution requiring local enterprises to hire at least seventy per cent of

rank and file employees from among Muntinlupa residents. Another lobbyingsuccess resulted in the creation of an Urban Poor Affairs Office at the city hall.

HARF harbors no illusions about these engagements with local government.Although these gains seem impressive on paper, implementation remainsproblematic. But at least, HARF members are proud that they are able to makethemselves heard. Relating to the city's executive branch is trickier.

An inter-agency committee12 was created in view of the social preparation for therailway modernization. HARF participated in initial meetings in 2002, but soonrealized the reality behind the operation. A so-called census and tagginginitiative was organized to survey existing structures in the community andidentify beneficiaries for the relocation program. This master list is the basis forthe allocation of the government's socialized housing program for railwaycommunities to be demolished. HARF members were outraged to find names ofthe mayor's employees at the city hall on the list. Since this discovery, HARF hasdone its best to expose this and watch over the process. Consultation meetingshave become suspiciously irregular since then.

HARF's relations with the mayor remain strained. The federation did not supporthis re-election bid in 2004, due to his disregard for their concerns. By contrast,HARF considers the Muntinlupa District Representative to the nationallegislature an ally13. When the need arises, he gives financial assistance toHARF membership activities, such as meetings and celebrations. HARFdepends on such solicitations to sustain its operations since there are noalternative sources of income. There are no NGOs or Church groups thatoperate in the area, nor does the federation collect membership fees, sincecommunity members already pay monetary contributions to their primaryorganizations.

Although the community is illegally occupying government-owned land, thepeople have laws on their side. For once, there are constitutional provisions14 forurban land reform. Thanks to a strong civil society lobby, a landmark piece of

12 Composed of representatives from the Department of Transportation, the Philippine NationalRailways, the National Housing Authority and the local government of Muntinlupa, alongsiderepresentatives of urban poor organizations such as HARF.

13 It is important to note here that in the Philippine political system, local politicians are notelected on a party ticket. All positions are filled through direct election of individual candidates.

14 The 1987 Constitution has often been hailed as the “People Power” Constitution for itsdeclaration of principles and state policy . Article XIII, Section 15 thus reads: “The right of thepeople and the organizations to effective and reasonable participation at all levels of social,political and economic decision-making shall not be abridged. The State shall, by law, facilitatethe establishment of adequate consultation mechanisms.” Section 9 specifies: “The Stateshall, by law, and for the common good, undertake, in cooperation with the private sector, acontinuing program of urban land reform and housing which will make available at affordablecost decent housing and basic services to underprivileged and homeless citizens in urbancenters and resettlement areas. ...”

legislation was drafted and passed in 1992, the Urban Housing andDevelopment Act15. The law lays down the parameters for the resettlement ofinformal communities: the availability of basic services, the accessibility andproximity to economic opportunities and a due consultation process withbeneficiaries.

No doubt, Rey's and his comrades' prior organizing experience has been apositive influence. They are knowledgeable of the legal frameworks protectivepeople's rights. Rey himself is not intimidated by officials and his years as tradeunionist have taught him valuable negotiating skills. He also makes it a point toinfuse democratic practices into local organizations. Even if members are busy,he insists on holding periodic consultation meetings and tries his best at keepingrecords of the federation. One of HARF's local leaders knowingly shares: Theysay I'm an activists. Why? Because I always like to attend meetings.

One difficulty HARF organizers repeatedly encounter is the resistance ofordinary residents. Many are too busy with making a living to become involved incaucuses and activities. Others have been threatened with demolitions so manytimes before, many refuse to take HARF actions seriously. Many people onlybelieve what they want to believe, and most of it is hearsay, says Edna Vino. Shemakes it an effort to share any information she obtains from governmentagencies not just with the rest of the HARF membership, but also with herneighbors who are not active in local associations. Instead of listening to whatshe learned, people accuse of her of lying. This can be a frustrating experience.

Aside from gossip and hearsay, much information, true or false, is spreadthrough leaflets. A few years ago, a number of people were duped into“registering” for a socialized housing program for a small fee—a scam as it laterturned out.

Information is crucial in organizing. When it comes to the recent railwaymodernization plans, government agencies—city hall and inter-agencycommittees—cannot be relied upon to disseminate relevant information ontimetables and relocation plans. This burden falls on HARF. Obtaining andcomparing updated information with a critical eye is thus one of the major rolesof the federation.

It is significant to note that HARF members are not opposed to modernization.People are not fighting to maintain their homes in the danger zone. They arewilling to relocate as long as their livelihoods and housing situation is assured;as long as their lives will become better, not worse in their new homes. Rey andBhoy explain:We are not against progress. Our bottom line is that we want to bepart of this progress. The people do not wish to be obstacles to modernization;

15 Republic Act 7279 envisions “equitable utilization of residential land… with particular attentionto the needs and requirements of the underprivileged and homeless citizens and not merely onthe basis of market forces.” See Karaos, Gatpatan and Holtz (1995) for a case study on themulti-sectoral legislative advocacy effort.

all they are asking for is take part in the nation's development.

Networking is another task of HARF.

With the help of NGOs16, HARF is taking its struggle to another level. It is one ofthe founding members of the Bantay Riles (“Railway Watch”) advocacy network,which was first convened in July 2004. It brings together more than two dozengrassroots organizations from across the metropolis affected by thesemodernization plans. The demand to be part of the process that willfundamentally change their lives is the underlying unity of network members.Their top priority at the moment: getting the right information and exactingaccountability from implementing agencies.

In the span of six months, the network held assemblies and a press conferenceto bring their cause to the public. When the different groups organized a protestmarch leading to the presidential palace, it was their first time for manygrassroots members to participate in a rally.

A more specific target of their advocacy is the Philippine House ofRepresentatives. Securing the support of close to twenty parliamentarians, theywere able to lobby for House Resolution 165, calling on government agenciesconcerned to present their concrete plans for the resettlement of the familiesoccupying the danger zones to be vacated.

An important component of this inquiry is pinning down the funding source for thedevelopment of resettlement areas. The affected urban poor are understandablyworried by the fact that none of the national government agencies involved hasbeen able to reassure them of the sufficiency of such funds. The loanagreements and project contracts are silent on where the money for thedevelopment of resettlement sites will come from.

From a legalistic standpoint, this raises important questions on how governmentagents interpret the constitutional mandate on urban land reform. From a moralperspective, it uncovers the state's fundamental outlook on the urban poor“problem”: people are seen as “disposable populations”. Their socio-economicrights to humane treatment and decent housing are not necessarily seen as anentitlements. Responding to their needs is less a matter of public service, but asan act of benevolence on the part of individual leaders who expect gratitude inreturn.

For sure, the magnitude of the problems accompanying urbanization—theprohibitory cost of land and the sheer number of people—are overwhelming. Theproblem is that the Philippine government neither has the cash nor thebureaucracy to implement sweeping solutions. Yet even finding intermediary

16 Incidentally, the network grew, in part, from the working relations established during the courseof this collaborative research among HARF, the Institute for Popular Democracy and theCenter for Popular Empowerment.

solutions to long-standing issues is complicated by the convoluted web ofplayers.

At the local level, urban poor organizations must deal with local governmentunits, which together with the police, are ultimately in charge of demolitions. Toleverage their clout at the local level, they may find allies in either the mayor, the vice mayor, local legislators or their district representative to Congress 17. Havingsecured allies, they must then find ways to take advantage of factionalismbetween these power wielders to further their goals.

At the supra-local level, urban poor groups must content with a dizzying array ofnational agencies as well. These are the Presidential Commission for the UrbanPoor (PCUP), the Housing and Urban Development Council that oversees theNational Housing Authority (NHA) and the Community Mortgage Program (CMP),and the Philippine National Railway (PNR) under the Department ofTransportation and Communication.

An additional layer is the Office if the President of the Republic. In the Philippinepolitical system, the president is vested with a far-reaching set of powers, whichincludes the power to virtually give away government land to the poor. This kindof asset redistribution is not subject to any targeted, measurable povertyalleviation schemes. Instead, this special power serves as political tool of theincumbent to secure and maintain the support of different constituencies.

In the case of Muntinlupa, this has meant that when in August 2002, PresidentArroyo freed five hundred thousand square meters of government land for the in-city relocation of informal settlers occupying danger areas (PresidentialProclamation No. 234), it was just as easy to for her to change her intent sixmonths later and declare the land open for mixed use (Presidential ProclamationNo. 335). The riles community leaders are worried that the land area might notsuffice. Yet, other than voicing out their concern through the Bantay Rilesnetwork, they have no way of holding the president accountable for this unilateraldecision.

HARF's mobilizations: a different diskarte?

“Ang mabuhay ay parang hagupit ng tren. Kung hindi ka maingat, madiskarte at magulang

pupulutin ka sa kangkungan.”Jun Acosta, March 2004

Social movement literature sometimes tends to romanticize rural struggles overland and natural resources, where people claim what is rightfully theirs from17Urban poor groups are also affected by local politics outside their district. A few years ago, whenthe residents of Calamba, Laguna heard that the Muntinlupa 'squatters' were to be resettled intheir locality, they staged a sustained citizens' protest until the mayor caved in and closed hisdoors to them.

unscrupulous local and foreign elites. Proletarian urban mobilizations, bycontrast, tend to be portrayed as opportunistic enterprises, where the urban poorallow themselves to be “used” by politicians.

Still fresh in the collective memory of observers of Philippine social movementsis the “EDSA 3” phenomenon, when urban poor rioters stormed the gates ofpresidential palace, demanding President Arroyo to step down on May 1, 2001.This failed uprising has alternately been portrayed as an illustration of theincreasing anomie experienced by the under-classes or a dramatic example ofmass manipulation by opposition elite forces.

Yet it would be far too simple to dismiss HARF members as a coopted force.

If Rey and other leaders would negotiate with politicians only during campaignseason, it might be easy to categorize them as 'ward leaders'. If they were topocket funds for private ends, they could be accused of being 'politicalentrepreneurs'. If they offered their organizing services to just any politician, itmight be possible to view them as pawns in populist games.

But this is not necessarily the case.

While it is true that the urban poor are vulnerable to electioneering (Boudreau2001:61 and Karaos 2003), we cannot conclude that these engagements aredevoid of principled resistance or any overarching vision towards social change.

So-called clientilism can work both ways. Political bosses dispense patronage inexchange for political support and votes. Candidates need large-scale urbanpoor support to garner winning vote margins. HARF members know this. Theyare no clientilistic dupes. To them, these relationships with political players areways of furthering their 'subsistence mobilizations'. Far from being passive, theyknow very well that they have the warm bodies to command attention. They arealso aware that it is not in the interest of local politicians to uphold all theircampaign promises—this would break the fragile relations between officials andclients.

As a matter of organizational principle, any gains are ploughed back to thefederation. As the chairperson of the federation, Rey could easily engage in one-on-one negotiations with candidates and officials. But he refrains from doing so,making sure that he is accompanied by other HARF leaders and members. Hesevered ties with left formations, because he felt that higher party organs werenot transparent enough in their dealings. He is not about to repeat the samepractice in his own federation. It is significant to note that any small amount ofmoney secured do not pass through Rey's hands. Instead, it is HARF thetreasurer, an elderly woman people affectionately call “Mommy”, who holds thepurse. This bespeaks of HARF's flat organizational structure, which theleadership consciously nurtures. I want to make sure people have no grounds todoubt my service and leadership, says Rey.

Aside from organizational safeguards, it is their Muntinlupa People’s Agenda thatkeeps HARF grounded. This detailed list is anchored on basic demands ofsecurity of tenure, livelihood programs, access to basic services and an end todiscrimination against the urban poor. If a politician is unwilling to sign onto theiragenda, they turn their backs. They know all too well that in the Philippinepolitics, numbers speak. If a politician is not supportive of their agenda, they caneasily find a supporter from the opposing camp. They have the vote mobilizingcapacity to be a significant enough force. Factional competition between localpoliticians can work to their advantage.

This strategy is most appropriately captured in the “street” concept of diskarte . Itrefers to ordinary people's capacity to get through the trials of everyday life,suggesting experimentation and possibilities (Biron and Espiritu, 2004). Anothercharacteristic HARF members pride themselves in is that of being magulang.Loosely translated, it can mean being “street smart”, “cheeky” or “tricky”. Itdescribes a person who can turn a certain situation to his or her advantage,without being obvious about it. The quote at the beginning of the section reflectsthis attitude: Those who lack diskarte, land in the swamp (loose translation).

Karaos (2003) in her study on “Populist Mobilizations and Manila's Urban Poor”also cautions against the “... sterility of reductionist paradigms of urban politicsbased on the assumed predominance of patron-client bonds as the organizingprinciple integrating the poor within the elitist political system. Indeed what weare seeing is a new kind of politics that makes use of collective mobilizationoriented toward the achievement of a collective good (e.g. land and housing forthe community) but being played out in a manner that utilizes traditional patron-client ties. ” (italics mine)

What we find on the ground is an urban political terrain marked by shiftingengagements and dis-engagements between local power wielders andgrassroots-based associations.

This phenomenon is not unique to the Philippines. Writing on urban struggles inBrazil, Kersting and Sperberg (2000:157) find that

“The leaders ... have the task of ensuring improvements for theirneighborhood on the basis of their individual power resources(contacts with politicians, town administrator, etc.) Neighborhoodorganizations are often coopted by certain politicians, whomobilize their members before elections as a means of ensuringvotes. However, such loyal and dependent relations ... havebecome short-lived and flexible, so that competition for votesbetween politicians has increased... .”

Also in reference to the Brazilian context, Abers (2000:30) advocates a more“balanced approach” and “realistic conception of the role of urban movements,

which combine forms of protest and resistance with other forms of action thatmore closely resemble the clientilistic legacy... [engaging] in a 'double game' ofstruggling for their rights as citizens and seeking to improve the materialconditions of their life”.

The scaling-up of urban mobilizations can also bring new dynamism to localmobilizations by forcing local community activists to look beyond their ownbackyard. For local movements such as HARF, becoming part of a broadermovement for urban change, such as Bantay Riles, is indeed a significant stepand challenge. By working with NGOs and alternative political movements,HARF members will be challenged to develop more comprehensive advocacyframeworks that go beyond instrumental negotiating strategies. It will challengeHARF members to articulate their vision for themselves to a broader public,outside their local milieu—not by connecting their community issue to the interestof local politicians.

Part of this development is HARF's solidarity affected communities that are lessorganized than in Muntinlupa. Rey, on his own initiative, is actively reaching outto community leaders in neighboring cities of Taguig and San Pedro to share thelessons and experiences of HARF—without any direct gain for himself or HARF.

Conclusion

This case study describes some of the challenges in organizing the urban poorfor change: the imperatives of 'subsistence mobilizations' and the persistence ofpatronage politics on the one hand, but also the varied opportunities in self-organization and engagement with state actors.

This conclusion offers three points of reflection.

First, the case study points to how civil society organizations that are in the“business” of urban development, might best help facilitate the growth of localgrassroots movements. It shows that the urban poor of Muntinlupa, equippedwith progressive organizational practice, are effective at organizing themselves.The same is true for advocacy. The urban poor are the best advocates on theirown behalf. Only they can give substance and emotional content to claimsdirected at the powerful. They don't necessarily need heavy-handed guidancefrom NGOs to accomplish this. What they do need is information. The studyillustrates the value of having access to data from relevant government agenciesfor community organizing and advocacy. This critical information on the statusproject implementation and policy developments does not find its way to theurban poor. It has to be sought out pro-actively. NGOs can act as importantportals to such information, help in assessing the facts, and facilitate furthercontacts.

Second, the HARF experience challenges us to re-consider urban poor groups'

engagements in the political process.

Just because urban poor groups are trapped between different sets of old-stylepolitical patrons does not mean that there is no room for transformative collectiveaction to emerge. The HARF experience is an example of “new” democraticimpulses being channeled through “old” clientilistic forms of relating to individualpoliticians. It provides a more nuanced political critique of urban systems in thedeveloping world, where “clients” are not necessarily equated to passivereceivers of patronage, but active negotiators for their constituents.

Third, however, we must bear in mind that these “negotiated” outcomes do notsignal a shift in power relations. Subsistence mobilizations such as thosedescribed in this case study are short-term solutions to pressing problems thecommunity experiences. These do not represent a qualitative break in the waythe state and its agents relate to the poor.

Karaos (2003), writing on a specific case where urban poor groups benefitedfrom President Arroyo's graces, cautions:

“The power of the president to literally give away land to the urbanpoor has removed the necessity to press for thoroughgoing urbanland reform law. What is encouraged instead is the ability tonegotiate with the state as distinct communities to effect thetransfer of land within the existing legal and institutionalparameters. It has cultivated an utilitarian attitude on the part ofurban poor communities seeking to gain security of tenure byfocusing on the immediate goal of gaining land which is renderedachievable by the power of presidential proclamation.”

The urban poor's “utilitarian attitude” is often an outcome of territoriallycircumscribed struggles they face. It breeds a kind of short-sightedness, whenself-organized groups operate without a vision for greater social and politicalchange. What we often find is the lack of a “deeper analysis of insecurity oftenure that relates interdependence of rural and urban development,implementation of legal frameworks that is biased for the rich and restructuring ofeconomic system where resources are not justly allocated” (de Leon and Chavez1994:252).

Through its participation in the Bantay Riles network, HARF is increasingly ableto connect local issues with national (and even global) developments. To theextent that the movement will be able to frame its struggle within a broaderagenda for urban renewal, through its exposure to other movements andactivists, it can become more of a socially transformative force than it already is.

REFERENCES

Books and monographs

Abers, Rebecca Nearer. 2000. Inventing Local Democracy: grassroots politics inBrazil. London: Boulder.

Berg-Schlosser, Dirk and Kersting, Norbert. 2003. Poverty and Democracy: Self-help and political participation in Third World Cities. New York: Zed Books.

Berner, Erhard. 1997. Defending a place in the city: localities and the struggle forurban land in Metro Manila. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press.

Boudreau, Vincent. 2001. Grass roots and cadre in the protest movement.Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press.

Carroll, S. J. John J. 1998. “Philippine NGOs Confront Urban Poverty” inOrganizing for Democracy, eds. Siliman, G. Sidney and Noble, Lela Garner.Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press.

Castells, Manuel. 1983. The city and the grassroots. London: Edward Arnold.

De Leon, Annie and Chavez, Percival. 1994. “Urban Poor Coalitions” in Studieson coalition experiences in the Philippines. eds. Cala, Cesar P. and Grageda,Jose Z. Makati, Metro Manila: Bookmark.

Evers, Hans-Dieter and Korff, Rüdiger. 2000. Southeast Asian Urbanism: Themeaning and power of social space. Singapore: Institute of Southeast AsianStudies.

Karaos, Anna Marie A. 2003. Populist Mobilization and Manila's Urban Poor.Quezon City: Institute for Popular Democracy.

Karaos, Anna Marie A., Marlene V. Gatpatan, and Robert V. Holtz, S. J. 1995.Making a difference: NGO and PO policy influence in urban land reformadvocacy. Quezon City: Institute on Church and Social Issues.

Kersting, Norbert and Sperberg, Jaime. 2003. “Political Participation” in Povertyand Democracy: Self-help and political participation in Third World Cities, eds.Berg-Schlosser, Dirk and Kersting, Norbert. New York: Zed Books.

Magadia, Jose J. 2003. State-society dynamics: policy-making in a restoreddemocracy. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press.

Web articles

Polo, Jaime Biron and Espiritu, Francis. May 2004. Elections and the People'sDiskarte. http://www.ipd.ph/elections/resources/diskarte.htm

Velasco, Djorina. May 2004. Tale of Two Cities: Elections in Muntinlupa.http://www.ipd.ph/elections/resources/muntinlupa_politics.htm

Laws, resolutions and ordinances

Republic Act 7279, an act to provide for a comprehesenive and continuing urbandevelopment and housing program, establish the mechanisms for itsimplementation and for other purposes.

Republic of the Philippines, House of Representatives, Quezon City, 13th

Congress, 1st Regular Session, House Resolution 165, Resolution directing thecommittees on housing and urban development and on civil, political and humanrights to investigate the Northrail and South Manila commuter rail rehabilitationproject and its effects on the residents living in areas adjacent to the railwaytracks.

Presidential Proclamation No. 234, excluding a portion of the five hundredthousand (500,000) square meters from National Bilibid Prison Reservationadministered by the Department of Justice (DOJ) in Brgy. Poblacion, City ofMuntinlupa, registered under the name of the Commonwealth of the Philippineswith transfer certificate of the Title Nos. 183326, 183327, 183328 and 183329,containing an aggregate area of 4,310,872 square meters more or less associalized housing site for Muntinlupa informal settler families occupying dangerareas.

Presidential Proclamation No. 335, Amending Proclamation No. 234 transferringthe administration of the 500,000 square meters area of the National BilibidPrison Reservation under the National Housing Authority.

Pamahalaan Lungsod ng Muntinlupa, Sanggunian Panlungsod Resolution No.96-272, a resolution requesting the PNR to hold in abeyance the demolition ofhouses located within the five meter danger zone on the Muntinlupa PNRrailroad tracks pending the determination and availability of the relocation andresettlement site.

Pamahalaan Lungsod ng Muntinlupa, Kautusan Panlungsod Bilang 96-80,kautusan panlungsod na nag-aatas sa lahat ng kompanya/bahay kalakal nanagnenegosyo sa Lungsod ng Muntinlupa, na sa pagtanggap ng karaniwangkawani (rank and file), and hindi bababa sa pitumpung porsiyento (70%) ngmanggagawa ay dapat residente ng lungsod.

Pamahalaan Lungsod ng Muntinlupa, Kautusan Panlungsod Bilang 96-91,kautusan panlungsod na itinatatag and tanggapan ng “Urban Poor Affairs'Office”.

Pamahalaan Lungsod ng Muntinlupa, Kautusan Panlungsod Bilang 99-027,kautusan panlungsod para sa “house-tagging” sa kahabaang riles ng PNR mulaBarangay Tunasan hanggang Barangay Sucat, Lungsod ng Muntinlupa, at angpaglalaan ng pondo para dito.

Pamahalaan Lungsod ng Muntinlupa, Executive Order No. 19, Series of 2002,amending Executive Order No. 11, creating the Local Inter-Agency Committee(LIAC) and for other purposes.