Tag: Worker Rights

No Justice, No Peace: Stop the killings in the Philippines #stopthekillingsPH

Izzie Villanueva
TCCS ’19

A photo of a young college male spray a cannon with spray paint
College student Timothy Manalo paints “#stopthekillingsph” and “Never Again to Martial Law” on the cannon during a commemorative action by Boston Pilipino Advocacy and Resources at Tufts University on October 13, 2018. (Image credit: Alonso Nichols/Tufts University)

On Saturday, October 13, 2018, Boston Pilipino Education Advocacy and Resources (PEAR) organized an action at Tufts University to continue the resistance against fascism and martial law. Organizers and participants wrote and painted on a cannon in honor of Filipino American History month in continuing the struggle for genuine freedom and democracy.

Hxstory of Painting the Cannon at Tufts

In 1977, the Fletcher School at Tufts University accepted a $1.5 million dollar grant from Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos, former dictator and president of the Philippines. According to the Marcos family, this money was given to fund the East Asian studies program and create an endowed chair of East Asian and Pacific Studies. In response, Tufts University offered Imelda Marcos an honorary degree.

An drawing of a cannon on a red background with the words "Call to Action - Writing on the Cannon for the Philippines" beneath the cannon
An image from the flyer of the action.

On October 28th, 1977, Tufts students and faculty rejected these funds as a protest against martial law, the Marcos dictatorship, and US imperialism in the Philippines. In solidarity with the Filipino people who had been under martial law since 1972 under the Marcos regime, the campus quickly erupted into protests. Hundreds of students and faculty alike voiced their dismay with Tufts administration’s decision to take the grant, making it known that accepting money from a fascist regime cannot be free of political weight. Throughout their many visits to campus, the Marcos were consistently met by student protests drawing attention to their human rights violations in the Philippines.

This unrest led to the start of a tradition: Amidst protests, students painted the cannon for the first time as an act of opposition against Tufts’ willingness to host and accept money from the oppressive Marcos regime. The first painting of the Tufts cannon was a stand against martial law, political corruption, and human rights violations.

Martial Law in Mindanao
A photo of Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte
Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte in 2016.
Image source: Wikimedia Commons.

Today similar conditions in the Philippines persist: More than 25,000 Filipinos have been killed by government police and military since the commencement of Philippine President Duterte’s “War on Drugs” and implementation of martial law in Mindanao. Also notably, the U.S. military has given approximately $180 million in military aid to the Philippine military.

In May 2017, President Rodrigo Duterte declared martial law on the entire island of Mindanao. Martial law, which extends military authority and allows for warrantless arrests and heightened surveillance, was supposedly enacted due to the Maute group’s attack in Marawi City. The official proclamation states, “the attack shows the capability of the Maute group and other rebel groups to sow terror, and cause death and damage to property not only in Lanao del Sur but also in other parts of Mindanao.” However, “the social unrest and armed conflict in the Bangasamoro region of Mindanao must be placed within the proper socio-economic and historical context. Lanao del Sur, the province where the Maute group operates, has the highest poverty rate in the Philippines, yet remains one of the most resource-rich in the country, a prime attraction for foreign corporations for lucrative investments and large-scale extractive operations” (BAYANUSA). The martial law order was originally signed to be enacted for 60 days, however in December 2017, Duterte declared the continuation of martial law in Mindanao for another calendar year.

Isang Bagsak

Back at Tufts, there were speakers and performers who shared personal experiences and historical information about the past and current state of the Philippines and Filipinx diaspora in the United States and Boston. I was excited to perform a spoken word poetry piece, ‘Isang Bagsak,’ and lead then group in the Unity Clap to end of the action.

The saying “Isang Bagsak” has a powerful history. The saying was used with the creation of the Unity Clap during the United Farm Workers Movement in the 1960’s. During this time, farmworkers, consisting of mostly Filipino/Filipina/Filipinx and Latino/Latina/Latinx farm workers (with notable leaders Larry Itliong, Philip Vera Cruz, Cesar Chavez, and Dolores Huerta) were protesting unfair labor wages and working conditions. Though there were language barriers, the farmworkers wanted to create a way to show solidarity and understanding with one another; at the end of each day, the farm workers would start the Unity Clap. Later the saying was also used during the People’s Power Movement/Revolution in the Philippines in February 1986 when protestors were demanding the removal of President Ferdinand Marcos and an end to martial law.

The Unity Clap begins slowly to the beat of one’s heart to symbolize the solidarity and oneness felt through similar struggles and experiences. The clap gradually increases in speed into a thunderous applause, and at the height, there is a pause for everyone in unison to say “Isang Bagsak” and ending with one large clap. “Isang Bagsak” is Tagalog for “one fall, all fall”, which can also be read as “one rise, all rise”. Many current Filipinx organizers now use the Unity Clap to end events and actions as a way of honoring those who came and resisted before us, so that we may continue their legacy and fight in the present and future.

Like the Unity Clap, our collective action and solidarity celebrated and validated different experiences, while still allowing us to come together in resistance against oppressive regimes, both historical and of the present day.

Despite the rainy weather, it was empowering to see and experience the support and validation of so many people gathered for an action that we all felt genuinely passionate about. Like the Unity Clap, our collective action and solidarity celebrated and validated different experiences, while still allowing us to come together in resistance against oppressive regimes, both historical and of the present day. While this action was partially to honor Filipino American History Month, the struggles faced by Filipinos under martial law and Filipinos in the greater diaspora are still taking place today; we deserve platforms to express and honor the legacies of those who have come before us as well as current modes of resistance. I look forward to seeing and organizing future events with Boston PEAR and further exploring my own Filipinx-American identity.

A group of college student activists after an action in which they painted a canoon with "Stop the killings" and "PH" in white spray paint
An inter-collegiate group of students representing Boston Pilipino Advocacy and Resources poses for a photo after an action to paint the cannon with the message “#stopthekillingsph” and “Never Again to Martial Law” at Tufts University. (Photo credit: Alonso Nichols/Tufts University)
Moving Forward

If you’d like to get involved and/or stay up to date on our events, like our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/BostonPEAR/

If you’d like to see a livestream from the day-of the action, click here.

Isolated in the city: The precarious position of migrant workers in Singapore

Taina Teravainen, TCCS ’19 Student

A picture of the Singapore skyline

Singapore is small in size, only 279 mi², but it is densely populated with approximately 5.6 million people living in this space. Over 245,000 people in this figure are “foreign domestic workers:” women who live in their employer’s homes, cook their meals, wash their clothes, and care for their children and elderly. “Foreign migrant workers,” on the other hand, make up the over 296,000 men who migrate to Singapore to labor in the booming construction industry.

As a Singaporean, I have often seen men squat by the side of the road with yellow hardhats waiting to be ferried back to their dormitories in the open-air back of lorries. In the evenings, they can be spotted playing cricket or having a beer in pockets of unused grassy spaces. The women gather en-masse on Sundays in public spaces that they rarely get to visit, except on their single day off. They have picnics with friends, attend religious services, and send remittances to their families in their home countries. This day off isn’t a certainty though.

Due to the precarious situation foreign domestic workers live in, the exploitation they face includes denial of time off, forced work without sufficient rest, and docked or withheld pay for months on end.

Due to the precarious situation foreign domestic workers live in, the exploitation they face includes denial of time off, forced work without sufficient rest, and docked or withheld pay for months on end.

When I asked my mother about how much time off the domestic worker of our extended family hired received, she said that the worker had chosen to forfeit her day off for increased pay. This is more than just industriousness, I know, but rather a necessity. She has her own children and parents in her home country who depend on the money.

Following independence from British colonial rule in 1965, Singapore’s rapid industrialization has firmly cemented its spot as a global financial centre and, in turn, created a segmented labor market that is filled by cheap and disposable labor from peripheral countries such as Bangladesh, India, Indonesia, China, The Philippines, and Myanmar.

While these workers provide essential labor and services for increasing production and economic growth in Singapore, they are also denied pathways toward citizenship and are viewed as unable to integrate to Singaporean society. This seems at odds with the Singapore government’s party line that the Singaporeans live in multiracial harmony and raises the question: Who gets to be included in this vision? The racial language used in anti-migrant sentiments raised by local Singaporeans, who themselves are mostly only a few generations removed from their immigrant ancestors, certainly does not support it.

Who gets to be included in this vision? The racial language used in anti-migrant sentiments raised by local Singaporeans, who themselves are mostly only a few generations removed from their immigrant ancestors, certainly does not support it.

Of course, similar migration structures exist in the U.S. and other countries worldwide, but because of land size, Singapore seems to exist as a microcosm of the larger problem of exploitation of migrant workers and a racial hierarchy that stems from it. While living in the small citystate ensures that locals are never too far from encountering a foreign worker, it remains easy enough to avert one’s gaze and one’s thoughts from the abuses that go on within boarded-up construction sites or other people’s private homes, especially if societal rhetoric is that migrant workers are to remain outsiders and less-than, always. More needs to be done by the government, the employers and local Singaporeans to confront the neoliberal ideologies that reduce migrant workers to their labor and erases their personhood.