Philippines, Datu and His Smartphone

I was sitting on the ground, talking to Datu about traditional food in the Philippines. Datu told me he likes San Miguel Light beer. I laughed and said, “That’s not food, it’s a drink.” He laughed so loudly, and with our silly jokes, we connected instantly.

Datu is around 25 years old, a young man with well-built shoulders. Normally, he carries a bolo (machete) with him, but that day he didn’t hang it on his belt. We were sitting on the grass, somewhere in the province of Bukidnon, central Mindanao in the Philippines.

Datu belongs to an indigenous community in Mindanao. He has strong opinions on social justice, big agricultural corporations, mining companies, the military, democracy, and the government. He told me that they had lost most of their ancestral land over time. I listened carefully. Although we had a language barrier, it was largely minimized with the help of his smartphone. Every time he wanted to explain something new to me, he pulled out his phone and showed me photos from his gallery.

I had never seen such massive mining areas or some of the crushers he showed me. He also showed large-scale logging in forest areas, destroyed villages, wounded civilians, and the list went on. This was in 2013, more than a decade ago, and there he was, with a smartphone in his hand.

I saw Datu as an activist against social injustice. He said he shared his photos with others and spoke to the authorities. He also emphasized the strength of nonviolent resistance and resilience, showing me digital images of their peaceful protests.

Elder in South Sudan

Not only in Mindanao, Philippines, I have seen peace activists carrying smartphones in remote villages from, Sri Lanka, Darfur, Sudan, to the China–Myanmar border, and from Uganda to the South Sudan border.

Once, in 2018, I asked an elder in Kajo-Keji County, South Sudan:
“Sir, you don’t have electricity in your village. How can you use this smartphone?”

He said:
“I go to the town every two days to charge my phone at phone-charging places. It’s not that expensive. So, I can communicate with my family in the refugee camp in Uganda. There are so many rumors. I inform families about the real situation so that our youth are not misguided by opportunistic people.”

In Kajo-Keji County, there is no newspaper shop, not even an old newspaper to wrap bread at the weekend market. Most vendors use teak leaves to wrap vegetables.

Large-Scale Digital Dialogue

I kept thinking: we could have utilized these digital communication skills that people already have, not only for basic communication but for something much bigger.

A popular example was in October 2020, when the United Nations Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL) conducted what was described as the first-ever large-scale digital dialogue involving Libyan youth aged 18 to 30. This wasn’t just an informal survey. It was an online forum where approximately 1,000 young Libyans, both inside the country and abroad, participated in structured discussions on key issues like security, economics, and Libya’s political future.

One of the key findings was that participants overwhelmingly agreed there is no military solution to the conflict. War only brings destruction, displacement, and loss.

Shall We Think Together?

Using Information and Communication Technology for Peacebuilding (ICT4P) can be applied for large surveys, group interactions and dialogue platforms, early warning and response mechanisms, multi-agent AI (MAAI) systems, and even small-scale grassroots peace activism.

Datu and the Kajo-Keji elder had already recognized the power of ICT4P long ago, maybe not at a very sophisticated level but enough to save lives and protect communities. Isn’t that cool enough?

Later, when I think about the power of digital technology, Datu and the Kajo-Keji elder always come to my mind. They shape my vision of the digital space. I keep asking myself, again and again: are there more innovative ways we can use ICT for peacebuilding? Shall we think together?

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