A trowel (/ˈtraʊ.əl/), in the hands of an archaeologist, is like a trusty sidekick – a tiny, yet mighty, instrument that uncovers ancient secrets, one well-placed scoop at a time. It’s the Sherlock Holmes of the excavation site, revealing clues about the past with every delicate swipe.
Theories about how people first arrived in the Philippines are like old shoes — well-worn, out of shape, and overdue for replacement. For generations, Filipino students have learned a series of evolving models, each one slightly updated, yet still flawed.
First, it was the Waves of Migration theory, then the “Malay race” idea, and now the Austronesian migration model. Despite its serious flaws, the Austronesian model has become so mainstream that it’s now part of the Matatag curriculum, rolled out during the time of then-education secretary Sara Duterte.
But while the names and details change, these ideas still rest on shaky foundations. For too long, the narrative of how people settled in the Philippines has relied on these outdated theories, which oversimplify the region’s history.
Successive waves of “more advanced” migrants — Negritos, Indonesians, Malays, and now Austronesians — are credited with bringing civilization to the islands. But here’s the truth: Filipinos didn’t need outsiders to bring them together. They were doing it on their own for millennia, long before any foreign influence.
John Terrell calls the Philippines and its neighbors after the Ice Age “The Bubbling Pot.” This region became connected not because of external forces but due to geography — sea travel was easier and faster than going overland. For thousands of years, communities interacted, traded, and shaped the region without needing waves of migration to jumpstart the process. Nation-building in the Philippines began long ago, with language allowing people to remain diverse while engaging with one another.
Let’s take a quick look back. Remember the Waves of Migration theory? It proposed that the Philippines was settled by progressively “civilized” migrants — first the Negritos, then the Indonesians, and finally the Malays, who brought culture and development. This theory, built on speculation, fit nicely into a narrative of progress, but it ignored the complexity of the region’s past and cast earlier groups as mere stepping-stones.
Then came the “Malay race” concept, which lumped Southeast Asian peoples under one banner. This idea comforted nationalist movements but glossed over the archipelago’s incredible diversity and reinforced the notion that Filipino heritage came from outside. The idea of race itself is problematic; it reduces complex identities to misleading labels and reinforces divisions without any scientific basis.
Now we’ve entered the age of the Austronesian migration model. At first glance, it seems like progress — it’s based on archaeological and linguistic research and sounds more sophisticated. According to this model, Austronesian-speaking agriculturalists sailed from Taiwan to the Philippines around 4,000 years ago, bringing language, culture, and farming techniques that transformed the islands.
But wait. While this model seems like an improvement, it still has serious issues. First, it leans heavily on language as a marker for migration, but languages can change dramatically in just a generation or less. Using linguistic similarities as the sole basis for a migration model is like using a weathervane to predict a storm — it gives you a rough direction but not the whole story.
Then there’s the matter of who gets written out of the story. The Austronesian model assumes that these newcomers displaced or absorbed the pre-existing populations, like the ancestors of the Aeta, the Agta, and the Ati, the Mamanwa, and others. This reduces indigenous peoples to passive characters in a familiar tale of “civilized” groups taking over. It’s the same old story, just with a different tune.
What’s troubling is that despite its flaws, the Austronesian model has become mainstream to the point of being included in the new Matatag curriculum for basic education. This curriculum places this migration model front and center in how Filipino students are taught their own history. It’s astonishing that such a theory, which still relies on assumptions about displacement and dominance, has been elevated to this level.
The truth is, these theories — whether it’s Waves of Migration, the Malay race, or Austronesians — are more about fitting history into a convenient box than reflecting reality. They carry an undercurrent of colonial thinking, treating the Philippines as a place that always needed outsiders to “civilize” it, while ignoring the complexity of interactions between different groups.
We should ask ourselves: why are we still teaching these models? Why cling to ideas that have long been revealed as flawed? Maybe because they offer a tidy, familiar narrative. But history isn’t a straight line; it’s a web of interactions and adaptations, shaped by the people who lived here for millennia.
The real story of the Philippines isn’t one of replacement or conquest. The islands were already connected by trade and interaction long before these migration models suggest. The Austronesians didn’t “civilize” the Philippines; they joined a region already shaped by thousands of years of connections. Geography, not foreign intervention, facilitated these exchanges.
It’s time to rethink how we teach Philippine history. The people of this region weren’t passive recipients of outside civilization; they were active participants in shaping their world. The Bubbling Pot was already simmering with exchange and adaptation long before these models tried to explain it away.
The way forward is clear: emphasize how the region became integrated because its people were already skilled at navigating the seas and engaging with one another. They didn’t need foreigners to bring them together. The true story of the Philippines is one of early connections, with language serving as a tool for maintaining diversity while fostering interaction. Let’s leave behind the idea that external forces drove the region’s development and instead recognize the agency of those who lived here, shaping their world long before any outsiders arrived.
It’s time for a fresh look at how we teach the history of the Philippines. We need to move away from these old models of domination and replacement and embrace histories that highlight the ingenuity and contributions of all groups—from the Aeta groups to the Austronesians. Philippine history isn’t a tale of successive waves of “advanced” peoples; it’s a story of interconnectedness, adaptation, and resilience.
Let’s retire these outdated models and start telling a story that fits the complexity of our past. After all, our shoes may be well-worn, but it’s high time we put on a new pair that fits better. – with contributions from John Terrell (Field Museum)/Rappler.com
Stephen B. Acabado is professor of anthropology at the University of California-Los Angeles. He directs the Ifugao and Bicol Archaeological Projects, research programs that engage community stakeholders. He grew up in Tinambac, Camarines Sur. Follow him on IG @s.b.acabado.
