Danger by the pen in the Philippines

Adeline M.T, Contributor, Manila

"If you are concerned with your safety, I can arrange a guard for you. Just tell me at least two days before you go," said Tonette Orejas on the phone.

I called her asking information on how to go to Dingalan, a small town in Aurora Province, in the main Luzon Island of Philippines. The coastal town 100 kilometers northeast of Manila suffered terrible flash floods and landslide last year. But what Orejas was concerned about was not natural disasters. A day before I called her, a journalist there was killed.

Besides exchanging text messages -- mostly it was me asking for information -- we had never met before. Orejas is a reporter for the Philippine Daily Inquirer, one of the country's biggest English-language newspapers. She covers news in Aurora and Quezon, two provinces outside Manila.

Life for journalists was never easy. But for a local journalist like Tonette Orejas, it was even harder.

New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) said in a report on May 3, 2005 that the Philippines had become the most murderous country for journalists since 2000. Only a month before, Reporters without Borders (RSF) still considered Iraq as the world's most dangerous place for journalists since the U.S.- led invasion in March 2003.

On Tuesday May 10, 2005 Philip Agustin (53), editor and publisher of a local paper called Starline Times in Aurora Province , was shot dead in his daughter's house in Dingalan town. He had just arrived from a nearby town, carrying with him 500 copies of his newsweekly's special edition on alleged missing funds, relief goods and logs in Dingalan following the disaster in November last year that left 135 people dead and 56 missing. The town's mayor received a subpoena for allegedly being the brains behind Agustin's murder.

According to the Philippine Daily Inquirer, Agustin was the 69th Filipino journalist killed since 1986 and the sixth in 2005 alone. The other five were Edgar Amoro (Feb. 2 in Pagadian City, Zamboaga), Arnulfo Villanueva (Feb. 28 in Naic, Cavite), Romeo Sanchez (March 9 in Baguio), Marlene Esperat (March 24 in Tacurong City, Mindanao) and Klein Cantoneros (May 4 in Pagadian City, Zamboaga).

"True, we are the most dangerous country, not only for journalists," said Conrad de Quiros, a senior journalist and columnist for the Philippine Daily Inquirer. "In Iraq, journalists get killed in the middle of a gunfight; here they are murdered by specially hired hit men."

So, what is really going on with journalism in this country? If you ask this of Manila-based senior journalists, the answer would be vague. "Many local journalists are involved in either local politics or in other businesses other than reporting news," said Luz Rimban of Philippines Center of Investigative Journalism (PCIJ). She too has received death threats when covering stories on the logging business and a big national company last year.

Marites Daqguilan-Vitug chief editor of Newsbreak magazine confirmed this, "I blame this on the economic situation. Usually the media owners hire stringers who are paid a few hundred of pesos for a story or even by the line. So they do other work to survive. We need to take a closer look, are they really killed for doing their work (as journalists) or for some other reason?"

However, in the Philip Agustin case, he was well known among people in the small town of Dingalan as the voice of the people. "He is our hero," said a barangay captain (village leader) who insisted that I not mention his name, even if my story was only going to be published in Indonesia.

In the last edition of his newspaper, Agustin had a picture of a big cock fight arena that was built not long after the disaster. "It is crazy to put priority on a cockpit arena instead of people's housing. Until now, six months after, there are still some families living in camps and evacuation center," said Dingalan's Councillor Shiela Taay. Taay has also received threatening phone calls and text messages.

"It's easy and cheap to hire a hit man, only a few thousand Pesos," said Fr. Antonio Evangelio, the town's parish priest. Moreover, having a gun is even easier. "There's a local weapon manufacturer in Cebu where you can buy a hand gun with documents for only 5,000 pesos (around US$92)," said Jani Arnaiz, another correspondent of the Philippine Daily Inquirer in Southern Leyte Island.

For Arnaiz, threats are not a new experience. "But I don't agree with some who think that journalists should carry guns!" He was referring to Association of Armed Journalists of the Philippines and the case of Pablo Hernandez III, a columnist and editor for Bulgar tabloid. Hernandez was attacked by two armed men, but he hailed them away by shooting before being shot. It happened on May 18, a week after Agustin's murder.

Covering two islands, Leyte and Samar -- the latter known as a stronghold of the communist New People's Army (NPA) -- Arnaiz had received threats after his article concerning a congressman politicking humanitarian aid.

So did Orejas. "Threats? Oh yes, I've received many," she said. That is why, when I finally met her at Agustin's funeral May 14, she was with a "companion", a man who I mistakenly thought was her photographer. "It's not often I hire a bodyguard, but this is a dangerous place and case for me. I've written many investigative reports on this."

There is another danger apart from bullets: money. During Marcos' time, journalists often joked about "envelopmental" journalism. Now it is "ATM journalism". Arnaiz and Orejas admitted that before the threats, they received offers. When they refused, they got strange phone calls, text messages and strangers in front of their houses. "We got offers and invitations first before being shot at. That's just the way it is here," laughed Arnaiz. Both have been journalists outside Metro Manila for more than twenty years.

Whether it's the first or the second, Philippines is indeed a dangerous place. But what the international community overlooked was also the fact that even though many victims came from southern part of Philippines or from areas considered as strongholds of rebel groups, none of this year's six murders were related to those armed conflicts.

Just like the two emails I received from fellow journalists in Canada, right before I flew to Philippines, "You be careful there, girl," said one. He attached an article about Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF). The other email reminded me that Philippines is the second most dangerous country after Iraq. I thanked them sincerely for their gentle concerns.

It is never a clear cut case. Being a reporter was never as "cool" as what we see on television. It is even more complicated and dangerous for local journalists in the small towns of the Philippines.

Until this nation does something about weapons and security, life for Jani Arnaiz and Tonette Orejas will always be on the edge. "When there is a story, people should know, you follow your heart and write. You just cannot keep quiet or let yourself be bought. Then you watch your step and be careful. But when it's your time, there's nothing else you can do," said Arnaiz.