Danger by the pen in the Philippines

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.