Two lives were lost in Tampakan this week.
On the afternoon of August 11, 2025, in Campo Kilot, Pulabato, two men—Johnry Samling and Richard Sumali—were swept away by the strong current of silted water while fixing their sluice box in an illegal “banlas” mining site. Heavy rains and unstable slopes, already weakened by reckless mining, turned the site into a deadly trap. Volunteers rushed to help, but the force of nature—amplified by human interference—claimed their lives.
This is not an isolated case. Since 2011, banlas mining in Tampakan has claimed more than six lives—and counting. Landslides, collapsing pits, and injuries have been regular occurrences. Some victims were buried and never recovered. The August 11 tragedy is just the latest in a long line of preventable deaths tied to this destructive practice.
Authorities have been cracking down on banlas operations. Just a week earlier, on August 4, the Local Government Unit of Tampakan, with police and DENR officials, seized pipes, sluice boxes, screens, and other equipment from illegal miners in the very same area. The message was supposed to be clear: illegal mining will not be tolerated. But the continuing loss of life shows that enforcement is not enough if the underlying drivers of destructive mining—poverty, impunity, and profit-driven exploitation—remain unaddressed.
Local farmers see the danger clearly. The Campo Kilot Farmers Association (CAKFA) in Pulabato has publicly appealed to President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., Governor Reynaldo Tamayo Jr., local officials, and Sagittarius Mines Inc. (SMI) to take immediate action. Their rivers, they warn, are now brown, polluted, and contaminated with mercury from illegal mining. Aquatic life has been destroyed, the health of residents endangered, and Lake Buluan—downstream and vital to South Cotabato and Maguindanao del Sur—is already being damaged. They demand a total crackdown on illegal mining, an end to mercury contamination, the rehabilitation of rivers, protection for Lake Buluan, and the long-overdue farm-to-market road that could give farmers real alternatives to destructive mining. They have vowed to bring their case to the Senate and Congress if no action is taken.
Now, let’s pause and imagine something far more massive.
If small-scale, illegal mining can unleash silt, destabilize slopes, contaminate rivers with mercury, and kill more than half a dozen people in just over a decade, what more can happen when a commercial, large-scale open-pit mining operation begins in Tampakan? We are talking about a mining project touted as one of the largest undeveloped copper-gold deposits in the world—planned to use open-pit methods that will scrape away mountains, displace communities, and dump millions of tons of mine waste into the environment.
Tampakan is not an empty wasteland waiting to be mined. It is home to Indigenous Peoples, farmers, rivers, and forests. It is a landscape that feeds communities and sustains livelihoods. It is also, crucially, a hazard-prone area—highly susceptible to landslides, flooding, and crisscrossed by active fault lines.
The “ridge-to-reef” reality here cannot be overstated. Whatever happens in the uplands of Tampakan will not stay in Tampakan. Silt and mine waste will flow downstream, choking rivers, contaminating irrigation systems, smothering coral reefs, and collapsing the fragile marine ecosystem of Sarangani Bay. Agricultural lands will suffer from reduced water quality, farmers will lose crops, and fishing communities will see dwindling catches.
Those who support large-scale mining often argue that it brings jobs, development, and revenue. But history, both in the Philippines and abroad, tells a darker truth: environmental devastation, community displacement, cultural erosion, and long-term economic losses that outweigh short-term gains. Mining companies eventually leave; the damage stays.
The August 11 tragedy should be a wake-up call. It is a preview—on a smaller scale—of what large-scale mining disasters look like. Except in a commercial open-pit scenario, the scale will be exponentially larger, the impact irreversible, and the casualties—both human and ecological—immeasurable.
We cannot afford to normalize this as “collateral damage” in the name of economic growth. The lives lost in Campo Kilot must push us to demand more than enforcement raids; they must compel us to reject projects that gamble with people’s lives and the planet’s future.
Tampakan, and the surrounding municipalities of South Cotabato, Sultan Kudarat, and Davao del Sur, deserve sustainable development—one that safeguards the land, water, and cultural heritage, not one that trades them for corporate profit and environmental ruin.
Two men have already paid with their lives. If President Marcos, Governor Tamayo, and SMI continue to push open-pit mining in Tampakan, then they must be prepared to answer not just for the loss of rivers and forests—but for every life and livelihood destroyed in the name of gold and copper.