A Republic

A Republic

Early morning of January 18, 2003 found me walking a trail down a hillside on the western coast of Palawan. From atop the hill one could see the great expanse of mangrove swamp. On the left side of this wide vista were square patches of exposed boggy land, as if somebody had taken a razor blade and sliced a swatch from the green fabric before my eyes. We were some 30 kilometers North of Puerto Princesa City. I was part of a task force that would demolish a dike system put up on tidal flatland located in a clearing inside a mangrove forest. The clearing had been illegally made. The environmentalist lobby had gotten the court ruling and now we were taking it upon ourselves to execute it. Demolish the dikes.
“Isn’t it true? Aren’t we in the Republic of Palawan?” One volunteer lawyer of an environmental NGO said between his heavy panting. (Having grown up and spending most of his professional life in Manila, he was sweating all over.)
I don’t know what he exactly meant by that. The statement was ringing an assortment of suggestions. The most obvious of which irritated me: We are a Republic. This island I have identified myself with when placed face to face with individuals from other places is a self-contained system. A Republic.
How preposterous can one get? If this is a Republic, we would have been rich by now. We would have been as rich as Brunei now. What with all the oil and natural gas being piped out of our backyard, private investors share notwithstanding?