Dispute Resolution in Mindoro: Iraya Customary Law

Dispute Resolution in Mindoro: Iraya Customary Law Ruben Z. Martinez, Ph.D. Charter for Human Responsibilities and OTRADEV Foundation, Inc. In a tight-knit community such as the Iraya of Mindoro, Philippines, a dispute is easily solved using boiling water and a stone. they don't need to pay lawyers, fill in forms or wait months to get their case heard in court. Among the Iraya, crime is contained by the threat of public humiliation.
Pedro accuses Juan of encroaching on his land. It's a nasty fight in which neither side will give in, and the small, rural Filipino community is getting troubled. Even after presiding over days of dialogue, the village elders cannot make them agree. There is only one solution: a tigi-an, or trial by ordeal. Now things start looking like an exotic scene from a tribal drama, as the contestants move onto the next round. On the appointed date, Juan, Pedro and the elders meet outside the village. Both parties perform a ritual to ask the spirit of the wood, water and stone to help them expose falsehood. Then, a small stone is dropped ceremonially in a cauldron of boiling water and, as it is tossed around on the surface, Juan and Pedro take it in turns to plunge their hands into the pot. Pedro's hand and arm are badly burned and he retreats. Then, Juan calmly dips his hand in and retrieves the stone unharmed. At last, the conflict is resolved and everyone knows that when Juan accused Pedro of land-encroachment, he was lying. Pedro and Juan belong to an indigenous community from the Mindoro Islands in the Philippines. Known as Mangyan, they are just one among 100 indigenous cultural communities of the Philippines, and make up about 15 per cent of the country's population. They have lived for centuries in self-sufficient hamlets, cultivating rice, corn, yams and bananas, tending pigs and fowls and hunting wild game. working solutions Their justice system may sound strange and barbaric. In fact, it is a unique way of settling disputes and punishing wrong doers. At the end of this episode, the elders instruct Pedro to donate seven pigs to the next community feast, a punishment for wrongly accusing Juan of land encroachment. These pigs are slaughtered and their blood used to extinguish the fires used in the trial, sparing the community from illness and hatred. Finally, Pedro is also asked to hand over a patch of land. There are other solutions. To solve petty crimes like theft or destruction of property, the community performs a tigi-an palay. Each party chews seven grains of rice and then spits on the ground. The Mangyans claim that the guilty party cannot spit out the rice, though they cannot explain why. Meanwhile, crimes like adultery, witchcraft or murder require the tigi-an bakal, or a red-hot iron. This time, both parties must retrieve a red hot iron from the fire: the guilty party will be burned, the innocent unharmed. effective deterrents While it may sound uncivilised, it is rarely necessary to resort to these painful 'trial by ordeals', since thanks to preliminary rituals and discussions, the accuser is vindicated early on. The prospect of hot irons or scalding water usually serves to terrify the accused into an admission of guilt. Meanwhile, community members are careful not to make reckless accusations because they believe that those who wrongly accuse will suffer burns themselves. Such justice holds the beliefs and respect of the entire community. It's a simple formula, enforced by severe punishment and humiliation. The accused can expect to have his feet harnessed by a wooden plank, secured to the ground, as a form of public humiliation. When it comes to capital crimes, the convicted must imitate his own death sentence - by ceremonially beheading a chicken while inviting the community to behead him if he repeats the crime. In a tight-knit community, the threat of such public punishment is a highly effective deterrent. More valuable still, indigenous justice systems such as these keep disputes out of court. As Kiko Taculoy, one of the village elders of Balas, Occidental Mindoro explains; "We do not bring our disputes to the non-Mangyan, we still resolve them ourselves. We have our own laws, customs and traditions." In fact, in the post-colonial Philippines, indigenous customary justice remained as one, vital part of a three-tiered legal system. Pedro and Juan could have by-passed their elders and taken their case to the nearest Barangay council, another rural alternative to the colonial courts. The Barangay justice system was instituted by government in the 80s and, while Barangay courts will not pass judgement, they mediate and seek consensus. Rural people can even take marital disputes to the Barangay Captain and ask him to mediate. Only cross-municipality conflicts, government cases, capital offences and heinous crimes are left for the municipal courts. absorbing the pressure Both indigenous and Barangay courts absorb pressure from the mainstream legal system, by keeping community problems off the long waiting lists. They also save poor, rural people from the crippling fees. As Pedro Taculoy explains; "The Barangay are effective in resolving community problems and save us resorting to costly and tedious litigation." Not surprisingly, most people who live in rural communities prefer to avail themselves of the alternatives - savage and uncivilised as they may seem. The practice of tigi-ans makes more sense to the Mangyan than a colonial legal system which is usually conducted in a foreign language and takes forever to come to court. Some can barely afford a fare to the nearest town court, let alone food and lodging. Miniano Cabilogan of Anilao adds; "If we take our disputes to the court, we have to hire a lawyer and spend money for our fare and food in going to the town centre. We don't have that money." This is hardly surprising, when lawyers charge the equivalent of an office worker's weekly wage for a morning's appearance in court. More importantly, it means means the colonial legal system does not hold the respect or belief of rural people. In their view, a good lawyer commands a good price which means the poor never win. Ruben Martinez wrote a PhD dissertation on the Mangyans at the University of the Philippines. He is Chairman of the Board of OTRADEV Foundation, an NGO working among the Mangyan. First published in http://www.vso.org.uk/publications/orbit/71/customs.htm