On an average Friday night about a year ago in the northern Philippines, the family of Ricardo Pugong Mayumi heard their dogs barking, followed by four gunshots. They rushed into their house to discover the bloody, bullet-ridden body of Mayumi, just as two unidentified men were fleeing the scene.
He was a long-time environmental activists who had rallied his community against a major hydropower project in the Philippines' Ifugao province. While no one has been held to account for his killings, he had long lived with death threats and it is no huge leap of logic to assume his death was linked to his activism. Disturbingly, Mayumi's story is far from an isolated case in the Philippines -- or in Southeast Asia as a whole.
In the Philippines alone, some 76 land and environmental defenders were killed between 2016 and 2018. Like Mayumi, many come from indigenous or peasant communities, who organise to oppose development projects that threaten not just the environment but also their livelihoods and way of life. The perpetrators range from private militias linked to mining companies, to the Philippines security forces themselves. With a few rare exceptions, the killings are carried out with complete impunity.
This worrying trend is reflected on a global level. At least 207 "green" human rights defenders were killed in 2017 alone as a result of their work, according to Global Witness, although the actual number is likely to be much higher.
There is no question that life as an environmental activist is increasingly dangerous. In many cases, powerful local actors, whether businesses or strongmen, collude with state security forces to ensure they can literally get away with murder. Environmental defenders play crucial roles in holding power to account, but they often lack the resources, networks and tools to fight for their communities in the most effective and safe way.
But where states fail to protect those defending the environment, it has often been up to civil society to step in.
One example of this sits outside Chiang Mai: the EarthRights School. Set up in 1999, it is a unique learning centre that has trained hundreds of activists from countries around the Mekong River. Students are equipped with the tools to protect the rights of their communities, and to stand up to governments and businesses behind unscrupulous development projects.
In the Mekong countries, rapid economic growth has exacerbated income inequalities and led to violations against the rights of poor and vulnerable communities. The rush to construct hydropower dams has been particularly destructive. Often built with only token consultation with communities, these dams can worsen flooding, disrupt fishing, ruin paddy fields, and force people to abandon their homes.
Laos is already home to 54 hydropower dams, and the government has committed to building another 140 such projects over the coming years. In July last year, the collapse of Laos' Xe-Pian Xe-Namnoy dam left at least 39 people dead and displaced thousands -- a tragic reminder of the human cost of unchecked development. These projects often have a strong regional component. In Laos, for example, many of the hydropower projects have been financed by Thai banks.
Many of the EarthRights school's students -- who are typically under 25 and come from a range of ethnic and religious backgrounds -- hail from communities directly affected by reckless development. They live together on campus during the year-long course and learn from a curriculum focused on "hard" skills (legal and environmental impact assessment trainings) and "soft" skills (advocacy, media engagement, and negotiations).
Many of the school's 380 alumni have gone on to do crucial work in their home communities. Mueda Nawanat grew up in Thailand as a stateless daughter of Myanmar refugees and graduated from the school in 2012. Since then, she has helped pass legislation to help stateless people apply for citizenship in Thailand, while also setting up her own network of Mekong youth groups.
But the school is not just a training ground; it is also a refuge where students can share ideas without fear of surveillance. The 2012 disappearance of Sombath Somphone, a Lao development worker, is an unusually high-profile example of a larger problem. Many of the school's students are risking their freedom -- and, sometimes, their lives.
Ultimately, it will be up to Asean governments to take the threats against environmental rights defenders more seriously. Many countries in the region also lack legislation spelling out the need to protect human rights defenders.
Until this happens, civil society will remain a crucial source of hope and practical support for those defending their communities. Leaders must do much more to make sure that cases like Mayumi's are the exception. Visiting the EarthRights School in Chiang Mai would be a good first step.
Roque Raymundo is the Southeast Asia Director for the Open Society Foundations.
