I was deeply appalled to learn that in La Trinidad, a quiet yet devastating crisis has unfolded, unnoticed.
The farmers of this town, particularly in Poblacion, many of whom have tended to their land for generations, are now facing an unprecedented challenge: the exorbitant rise in agricultural land rental fees.
What was once a manageable fee of 7,500 pesos has now skyrocketed to a staggering 20,000 pesos per month. This sudden surge is not merely a financial burden—it is a direct threat to their livelihoods and, more poignantly, a violation of a deeper promise made to their ancestors and the future of their community.
The land in question, which has long been a lifeline for the farmers, was originally donated to the Benguet State University (BSU) by certain indigenous peoples’ families. The terms of this donation were clear: the land was meant for educational purposes, primarily to benefit the students, faculty, and future generations of Benguet. It was never intended to become a commercial asset, subject to the highest bidder.
But now, with the university supposedly deciding to lease the land to a Korean company offering a higher bid, the farmers are being forced to match that price or face displacement. The very essence of their agricultural identity and survival is held hostage by an institution that has long prided itself on its educational mission.
For decades, these farmers have relied on these lots not just for income, but for their cultural heritage. Farming is not merely a profession for the people of Poblacion; it is a way of life anchored deeply in the land their ancestors have cared for. The sudden escalation of rental fees make it clear that the very soul of their community has been commodified and is being sold to the highest bidder.
Although averted, the very decision to lease this land to a foreign entity is not just a betrayal of the farmers but also an affront to the ideals that the Benguet State University was supposed to stand for. The university’s mission, according to its own founding principles, is to provide quality education and contribute to the advancement of the region, particularly its farming communities. Yet, in this case, BSU has prioritized commercial interests over the education and well-being of the very people who have helped maintain the land as a place of learning, agriculture, and culture.
It’s not just the increase in the rent that is problematic. It’s the entire premise behind the decision. How did an educational institution—funded, in part, by taxpayers—come to view the land it holds in trust for the community primarily as a non-profit public commodity, fit for lease to foreign corporations? Obviously, the values upon which BSU was built have now been trampled under the weight of financial greed.
The timing of this move couldn’t be worse. The Philippines, and especially regions like Benguet, are already struggling with rising costs of living, fluctuating crop prices, and the ongoing challenges posed by climate change. The farmers who rely on these lands are already fighting an uphill battle. Increasing their rental fees by over 250% is not just an economic strain; it is a near-impossible burden for many. For small-scale farmers, such hikes often mean the difference between staying afloat and losing everything.
Moreover, the fact that BSU was looking to lease this land to a foreign company sends a heartbreaking message to the Filipino people: that the interests of foreign corporations are more important than the welfare of local farmers. It reinforces the colonial legacy of prioritizing outsiders over indigenous peoples and locals who have nurtured the land for centuries. This is a blatant example of how, once again, the Filipino people are being marginalized in favor of profit-driven motives, with no regard for their historical, cultural, or economic needs.
So, what must be done? First and foremost, BSU must honor its commitment to the people of Benguet and the farmers of Poblacion. The land should be used for educational purposes, as was intended by the generous families who donated it and, if not, it should be leased to farmers at a very minimal fee. No amount of financial gain should supersede the social and cultural responsibility that an institution like BSU has to local communities.
Secondly, the government must step in. It’s time for lawmakers to draft policies that prevent the commercialization of educational lands at the expense of the communities they are meant to serve.
There needs to be an ironclad guarantee that lands donated for public service—especially to universities—cannot be leased out for profit in a way that harms the very people the institutions are supposed to uplift.
Lastly, the farmers must be supported. Their voices need to be heard, and their rights protected. No amount of profit should come at the cost of their survival.
The rise in rental fees in Poblacion is not just a local issue; it’s a larger reflection of the ongoing battle between profit and people in the Philippines.
Let us not allow the exploitation of our farmers to become the new normal. It’s time for those in power to act with the integrity that this crisis demands. The farmers of Poblacion deserve nothing less than justice.
