Beyond Oligarch Control: Land, Water, and Power as Foundations of Life
Kim’s Dream Orlan Ravanera
The steadily rising cost of basic commodities, most painfully rice, now reaching as high as ₱64 per kilo, and the soaring price of electricity have become unbearable daily realities for millions of Filipinos. In a country where more than 20 million people live below the poverty line, these are not merely economic indicators. They are unmistakable symptoms of a deeply unjust system, one that demands urgent reflection, moral reckoning, and structural change. The Philippines is, by nature and history, an agricultural nation. We are richly blessed with fertile lands, particularly in Mindanao, long celebrated as the country’s “food basket.” Any genuine path toward national development, whether short-term or long-term, must therefore be firmly anchored in agriculture. Yet the irony is both cruel and devastating: despite this abundance, hunger persists. According to the Food and Nutrition Research Institute, an alarming 85% of Filipino children are now malnourished. As food prices continue to rise, more families are inevitably pushed toward hunger and desperation.
Social scientists have long identified a painful paradox in Philippine agriculture: almost everyone profits from farming except the farmers themselves. Seed and fertilizer corporations, chemical companies, compradors, loan sharks, traders, and middlemen reap enormous benefits, while those who actually till the soil endure chronic poverty. Farmers labor under the scorching heat and torrential rains, risking their health and lives to feed the nation, yet remain among the poorest sectors of society. This is not accidental; it is systemic. The passage of the Rice Tariffication Law has further entrenched this injustice. By opening the floodgates to cheap imported rice, the law has crushed local rice producers, forcing countless Filipino farmers into unbearable debt. For many, the despair has been so overwhelming that some have taken their own lives. “Dahil baon na po sila sa utang.” What kind of development sacrifices the very people who feed the nation?
Once hailed as unsung heroes, Filipino farmers are now among the most neglected. Three out of every four young farmers have already abandoned agriculture, compelled to migrate to urban centers to work as janitors, drivers, construction workers, or waiters. Agriculture, which once formed the backbone of our economy, has been reduced to near insignificance. According to the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (UN-FAO), agriculture contributed a mere 0.02% to the Philippines’ Gross National Product over the past decade. This statistic alone exposes the depth of our national failure. How could this happen in a country historically built on farming?
The answer lies largely in the dominance of conventional, chemically dependent agriculture. Filipino farmers have been trapped in a system that enslaves them to synthetic fertilizers, pesticides, and herbicides inputs that are costly, environmentally destructive, and ultimately unsustainable. Over time, we were forced to abandon our resilient and nutritious native rice varieties such as Denorado, Azucena, and Tunawon in favor of so-called High-Yielding Varieties (HYVs). These native grains, once cultivated safely and sustainably without chemical dependence, are now controlled by global corporations. The irony is striking: while developed countries are now rediscovering and embracing these indigenous rice varieties for their health and ecological benefits, Filipino farmers, their original stewards, are increasingly deprived of access to them. This is not merely an agricultural crisis; it is a crisis of sovereignty, dignity, and justice.
While Filipino farmers remain imprisoned in outdated, profit-driven agricultural systems promoted by the Department of Agriculture, other countries have long embraced sustainable and ecological farming practices. Thailand offers a powerful example. Following the signing of the ASEAN Free Trade Agreement (AFTA) in 1997, the King of Thailand famously returned to the fields, urging farmers to reject chemical inputs that destroy beneficial insects and degrade the soil. He warned that excessive mechanization and fossil fuel use contribute to ozone depletion and climate damage. Thai farmers were encouraged to return to traditional practices using carabaos and other draft animals whose waste naturally enriches the soil.
The result was transformative. Thai farmers dramatically reduced production costs, producing rice at only ₱5 per kilo. In contrast, Filipino farmers struggle with production costs ranging from ₱15 to ₱20 per kilo. When the Philippines opened its markets to cheaper rice imports from Thailand and Vietnam, our farmers were doomed to lose. How can they survive when they are forced to sell below the cost of production? For many, this was not just an economic defeat; it was a death sentence. This brings us to a painful but necessary truth: poverty, inequality, and social injustice in the Philippines are not the result of scarcity. They are the result of control by a powerful few over land, water, and energy. In a country blessed with ecological abundance, millions go hungry while wealth is concentrated in the hands of oligarchs and their corporate partners.
Our lands are increasingly used not to feed our people, but to serve export-oriented plantations designed to satisfy the consumerist demands of wealthier nations. This is corporate globalization in its most exploitative form. Now, there are renewed efforts to amend the 1987 Constitution, particularly its provisions that restrict foreign ownership of land. Such amendments would open the floodgates to foreign corporate control over our natural wealth. The oligarchs and transnational corporations already exert enormous control over our water and electricity. Giving them ownership of our land would complete the cycle of dispossession.
This reality was powerfully exposed in the television program Magandang Gabi Pilipinas, where veteran journalist Ceazar Soriano presented three harrowing episodes: Agaw Lupa, Agaw Tubig, at Agaw Buhay. These investigations revealed how Indigenous Peoples are being harassed, displaced, and even killed for defending their ancestral lands and water sources. One heartbreaking case comes from Bukidnon, where a local government unit built a water system that now generates millions of pesos in revenue. Yet the water source comes from ancestral land led by Datu Ben Anoos, whose community receives nothing in return. This is not development; it is theft in broad daylight. Equally disturbing is the situation of so-called electric cooperatives in the Philippines. These institutions are cooperatives in name only. They collectively serve over 13 million member-consumer-owners (MCOs), representing roughly 65 million Filipinos when families are counted. Over more than 70 years, these MCOs have contributed nearly one trillion pesos in capital shares through loan amortizations and reinvestments embedded in their monthly electricity bills.
Yet they receive none of the benefits associated with genuine cooperatives; no patronage refunds, no scholarships, no healthcare, no social dividends. In real cooperatives abroad, members benefit directly from shared ownership. If Philippine electric cooperatives truly honored cooperative principles, each family should be receiving at least ₱1,000 per month in returns and social benefits. Instead, the system has been hijacked by powerful interests. When the Cooperative Development Authority (CDA) attempted to correct these injustices, its chairman was harassed, survived three assassination attempts, and was later unjustly, administratively convicted by the Ombudsman and reinforce by the Court of Appeals decision. His supposed crime was fulfilling his mandate: attending a general assembly of an electric cooperative in Davao and issuing a Certificate of Good Standing after proper evaluation.
The Supreme Court eventually reversed the guilty verdict, declaring that the case lacked of merit. The Court affirmed that the Chairman could not be held administratively liable for actions taken in the legitimate performance of his duties. This ruling exposed not only the weakness of the case against him, but also the dangerous extent to which powerful interests can misuse institutions to silence reformers. Despite his exoneration, the damage had already been done. His name and reputation were severely tarnished. In the public eye, he had been unjustly portrayed and branded as a corrupt individual despite the absence of wrongdoing. This deliberate destruction of character was deeply inhumane and represents a grave miscarriage of justice. It is a stark reminder that injustice does not end with a court ruling; reputation, livelihoods, and human dignity can be destroyed long before truth is finally acknowledged. This raises a disturbing question: how powerful have the oligarchs become?
Economic power has translated into political power and possibly even judicial influence. This is why the state of electric cooperatives must be examined with urgency and honesty. What exists today is a betrayal of cooperativism itself. Article XII, Section 15 of the 1987 Constitution is clear: “The State shall promote cooperativism as an instrument of social justice, equity, and economic development.” Electricity is essential to life. It must never be used as a tool for exploitation by the few at the expense of the many. Land, water, and power are not commodities; they are foundations of human dignity and survival. The injustice we face today is neither natural nor inevitable. It is man-made, and therefore, it can be corrected. The question is not whether we can change this system, but whether we have the moral courage to do so. Let us reclaim what is rightfully ours. Let us place life above profit, people above oligarchs, and justice above greed. All for God’s greater glory.
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