“A time will come, sooner than many expect, when indigenous peoples (IP) youth will have no choice but to confront their elders in direct debate. What is now seen as an act of defiance, even a cultural taboo, will soon become an unavoidable necessity—not out of disrespect, but out of sheer urgency to salvage what remains of indigenous governance”, said one professor friend during a casual discussion over a cup of coffee.
To me, his claims, “sooner than many expect” might actually be an understatement—because from where I stand, it’s already happening. Though frowned upon in IP customs, circumstances today push our IP youth to engage in debates when elders’ actions are the polar opposite of our time-honored customs and traditions.
Nowadays, we face the harsh and painful reality that some elders—many of them self-proclaimed—expected to act as the repository of indigenous wisdom and advocates for unity, have either directly or indirectly severed themselves from the very cultural and moral values they were meant to uphold.
Far too often, we witness certain elders behaving less like the revered wisdom keepers of old and more like monarchs, clutching power with iron fists. Instead of championing collective decision-making, they hoard authority, manipulate customary practices, and silence dissent.
Yet we know all too well—this is not how our ancestors led. Rather, this is the very evil they warned us against, the very monster they raised us to slay. And yet, when some of our IP youth, armed with knowledge from research, history, and lived experience, challenge these distortions, they are met not with open discourse, but with condemnation and ridicule.
We recall in the past news that once flooded our papers, sometime in the year 2020 to 2022, when the self-proclaimed elders of Kabugao, after railroading the contentious Gened mega dams through what appeared to be falsified community resolutions, turned around and cast stones at their own people.
They condemned, ridiculed, and even red-tagged those who dared to dissent—foremost among them, the IP Kabugao Youth—an organization of young IP professionals which later was accorded with a recognition by a weekly newspaper as “IP rights defenders of the year.”
Their so-called elders, while wielding a certificate of registration like a weapon, filed perjury cases against the youth and their fellow IPs in Kabugao. Their audacious claim? That they alone, not the IP
Kabugao Youth and their fellow IP community, had the authority to represent and decide on projects within the Kabugao Ancestral Domain—including the highly controversial Gened mega dams.
Good thing, said perjury cases against the IP Kabugao Youth were dismissed.
Clashes between youth and elders are becoming increasingly common, especially in discussions involving large invasive projects, such as mining and hydroelectric power plants.
But make no mistake, the Kabugao Gened mega dams debacle is not an isolated case. The same playbook is being observed across various IP ancestral domains, as injustices against IPs repeat themselves with ruthless precision.
Clashes between youth and elders are becoming increasingly common, especially in discussions involving large invasive projects, such as mining and hydroelectric power plants.
One thing is for sure, though, this resistance from IP youth is expected, given that they were raised to cherish and safeguard their resources from destruction while upholding customary IP values of resource management. They grew up listening to and reading stories on how their forebears fiercely defended their territories. They were taught to revere the unseen spirits dwelling in the forests and rivers, instilling in them a deep respect for nature.
Hence, they were honed, among others, to utter the phrase “bari” when entering the forest, or seek permission by casting a stone into the river before plunging in—a sacred gesture of respect and acknowledgment to the unseen.
These practices passed-on by the genuine elders of old, reinforced in the IP youth the belief that their ancestors and the unseen share an equal sacred ownership of the land’s resources together with the living.
This deep-seated reverence for land, water, and the unseen forces that guard them is not just a ritual—it is a way of life, a bond endowed beyond memory recall that ties the IP youth to their ancestors and their ancestral domains.
But what happens when the very values they were raised to honor are trampled on by those who should be their protectors? When the forests they were taught to respect and protect are sold off, and the rivers they once whispered to are dammed without their due consent?
Will they stand idly by, silenced by tradition, or will they rise—undaunted, unyielding—to reclaim what is rightfully theirs? Because the true test of honoring their ancestors is not in mere words or gestures, but in the courage to defend the legacy they were meant to inherit.
To be clear, not all elders are part of the problem.
The Cordillera and indigenous communities across the country still have their own share of genuine IP elders. It is unfortunate, however, that they are now a rare breed, and if the perversion of leadership continues unchallenged, they risk being driven to extinction.
While some elders still honor the customs and traditions, a select few, much like those self-proclaimed in Kabugao, brand dissent from the youth as subversive, treating young voices not as vital participants in decision-making but as adversaries to be subdued.
This mindset is not only divisive, it runs contrary to the very essence of IP collective governance. It undermines entirely that the youth are the rightful heirs, set to inherit not just the duties and responsibilities of stewardship, but also the full weight of the consequences—both good and bad—of these decisions regarding their ancestral domains.
If indigenous values are to endure, if indigenous governance is to survive, then the youth, as rightfully demonstrated by the IP Kabugao Youth, can no longer afford to sit in silence. They must challenge those elders who have abandoned their duty, traded wisdom for influence, and placed personal gain over collective good.
And if that means breaking cultural taboos, so be it—because the far greater tragedy would be allowing exploitation to continue unchecked.
