When the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) issued a notice for public scoping on the proposed expansion of the Daguma Agro-Minerals Incorporated (DAMI) coal project in Barangay Ned, Lake Sebu, it sounded—on paper—like a routine step in the Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) process. But for the people of Ned, especially the T’boli and Dulangan Manobo communities who have lived on these lands long before the Philippine Republic was born, this “routine step” is neither ordinary nor benign. It is a warning. A signal flare. A reminder that the long fight over land, life, and justice in Lake Sebu is far from over.
DAMI wants to increase its extraction from an already staggering 3 million metric tons (MMT) to 5 MMT per year starting 2025. That is 5 billion kilograms of coal carved out annually from the heart of one of Mindanao’s most fragile and culturally significant landscapes. At a time when the world is racing to abandon coal, a private mining company—whose current ownership is conveniently unclear—is preparing to carve deeper and haul more from the mountains of South Cotabato.
This expansion does not merely threaten the environment. It reopens old wounds, revives unresolved grievances, and gambles with the safety and future of entire Indigenous communities.
A Company Without Trust Has No Social License to Operate
Daguma Agro-Minerals, Inc. (DAMI) has long attempted to rebrand itself as a legitimate economic driver. Its very name—“Agro Minerals”—suggests agriculture or sustainable mineral production. In reality, DAMI has been synonymous with large-scale coal extraction, unresolved controversies, broken promises, and community resistance.
Local leaders in Barangay Ned recall verbal commitments made by the company before it received an interposing “No Objection” endorsement from the barangay years ago:
– relocation sites for all affected residents;
– an ambulance;
– a school bus;
– support for damaged roads.
These commitments, residents say, never materialized.
What did materialize were the 35-ton coal trucks that now roar through the barangay daily, pulverizing roads that were never designed to carry industrial loads. If 3 MMT has already turned Ned’s roads into hazards, what devastation awaits at 5 MMT? How many more accidents? How many more disruptions to farms, daily life, and cultural activities?
Coal extraction is not merely a technical process—it is a social contract. And DAMI has broken it repeatedly.
An Expansion Built on a Shaky and Dangerous Landscape
Barangay Ned sits within the geohazard-prone Allah Valley watershed, a landscape susceptible to landslides, sinkholes, and flash floods. The area’s delicate geology is already strained by existing mining operations. Expanding coal extraction means blasting deeper, moving more earth, clearing more forest cover, and destabilizing slopes that protect communities downstream.
Strip-mining—DAMI’s method of extraction—directly contradicts South Cotabato’s long-standing ban on open-pit mining. Yet operations continue, exploiting loopholes and political ambiguities. If a provincial ban cannot stop a mining company today, what confidence should communities have in future enforcement?
We cannot claim ignorance. The environmental costs are historically well-documented:
– forests thinning;
– rivers silted;
– wildlife pushed further into shrinking habitats;
– watersheds losing their ability to hold and clean water;
– ancestral domains eroded, literally and legally.
For highland communities who rely on forest ecology for food, water, culture, and identity, these are not abstract concerns—they are threats to survival.
Indigenous Resistance and the Memory of Bloodshed
Opposition to coal mining in Lake Sebu is not new. It is deeply rooted, intergenerational, and, in some cases, paid for in blood.
In December 2017, ten tribal members—including respected leader Datu Victor Danyan—were killed in Barangay Ned. The military labeled them as New People’s Army (NPA) members. But human rights groups, church organizations, and Indigenous communities insisted they were civilians defending their ancestral lands against coffee plantation and coal projects encroaching into their domain.
Whether the incident is called a clash or a massacre, one truth stands: the community was militarized because of resource extraction conflicts. People died because development was forced upon them without consent.
To push for a massive coal expansion without first addressing this painful history is not only irresponsible—it is immoral.
The Ownership Question: Who Really Benefits?
In 2022, San Miguel Corporation quietly sold DAMI to an unnamed buyer. Today, the true controlling interests behind one of Mindanao’s biggest coal operations remain unclear. How can communities meaningfully evaluate risks and benefits when the identity, accountability mechanisms, and long-term intentions of the proponent are hidden behind corporate opacity?
At the same time, provincial officials, including Vice Governor Arthur Pingoy, have signaled the need for a formal inquiry in 2026 to determine whether communities are truly benefiting. This is a polite way of acknowledging widespread allegations of minimal reinvestment, minimal compensation, and disproportionate risks borne by locals.
If the provincial government itself has doubts, how much more the people who live beside the dust, noise, landslides, and military checkpoints?
Public Scoping: A Process or a Performance?
On October 8, 2025, DAMI and the DENR will hold a public scoping session in Sitio Kibang Gymnasium. In theory, this is an opportunity for residents to raise concerns. In practice, such consultations often serve as box-checking exercises—performed to meet regulatory requirements, not to listen genuinely.
For a consultation to be meaningful, three conditions must be met:
- Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC) for all ancestral domain owners.
- Independent impact assessments, not commissioned by the proponent.
- Equal representation of affected communities, not dominated by local elites, contractors, or intermediaries.
Without these, public scoping becomes a stage play—a semblance of participation masking predetermined outcomes.
Lake Sebu Does Not Need Coal. It Needs Protection.
Lake Sebu is not just another geographic marker on a map. It is the cultural heartland of the T’boli and Dulangan Manobo peoples, a biodiversity sanctuary, a watershed supporting thousands, and a cornerstone of South Cotabato’s eco-cultural identity. Allowing DAMI to expand coal operations is an act of ecological violence, economic short-sightedness, and cultural erasure.
Coal is a dying industry. Climate policy is shifting. Renewable energy options for Mindanao are abundant. South Cotabato has long been admired for putting people and ecology above extractive interests. This is not the time to reverse that legacy.
The Ball Is Now in the Hands of Ned, the Municipality, and the Province
At the end of the day, the question is simple:
Will South Cotabato allow itself to be mined beyond repair for the benefit of a company with unclear ownership, a history of broken promises, a record of social conflict, and a proposal that threatens both people and planet?
Or will its leaders stand with history, culture, life, and the communities that have guarded Lake Sebu long before coal became an enticing business?
Barangay Ned’s residents, their council, the municipal government, and the provincial board hold the power to say no—not just to a project, but to a future where coal continues to dictate the fate of Indigenous lands.
They also hold the power to say yes—to watersheds, to forests, to cultural heritage, to justice, and to life.
South Cotabato must decide:
Will it expand coal mining?
Or will it protect the land that protects us all?
For the sake of Lake Sebu, for the memory of those who died defending it, and for the generations who have yet to walk its forests—the answer should be clear.