It is a truism that it takes a village to raise a child. But it seems equally true that it takes just one person to launch this collective process of education. In the Philippines, where a public school system has been in place for over a century, many communities remain either unserved or underserved. Where physical access is difficult and dangerous, government’s presence weak and facilities are meager, and people are too poor to even claim an education, the work of public school teachers is nothing less than heroic, and yet largely goes unheralded.

This is the story of thirty-one-year-old RANDY HALASAN, a teacher in Pegalongan Elementary School, serving the indigenous Matigsalug tribe living in one of the remotest villages in the mountainous hinterland of Davao City. To reach Pegalongan from his family’s home in the city takes HALASAN seven hours of travel—two hours by bus, an hour over extremely rough roads by habal-habal motorcycle, four hours of walking, and crossing the waters of two treacherous rivers. When HALASAN first arrived in Pegalongan in 2007, he was one of only two teachers in a two-room schoolhouse, teaching multi-grade classes between Grades 1 and 6. There was no electricity, amenities were primitive, and the place was virtually cut off from communication with the outside world. The young novice teacher’s first thought was that he would seek a reassignment out of the place the first chance he could get.

But today, seven years later, he is still in Pegalongan. Moved by compassion for the children who have to walk miles and cross rivers just to get to school, and who often fall asleep in class from hunger and fatigue, and driven by a sense of duty to help the impoverished and defenseless forest tribals against the encroachments of powerful outsiders, HALASAN has embraced the Matigsalug community as his own. He has turned down offers for reassignment, and his family often does not see him for many weeks on end.

Assuming as head teacher in 2010, HALASAN proactively lobbied with higher authorities to expand the Pegalongan school. What was once a two-room, two-teacher schoolhouse is now a permanent school with nine rooms, eight teachers, and 210 students. Through his representation, a cultural-minority high school has been established, with HALASAN as teacher-in-charge. Convinced that education is key to the Matigsalug’s survival in a changing world, he has convinced parents to keep their children in school; discouraged the customary practices of early and arranged marriages; and promoted values of self-help and egalitarianism in the community.

Recognizing that poverty is the community’s fundamental problem, HALASAN has taken his advocacy beyond the classroom. He says, “If I only focus on education, nothing will happen; the children will continue to go hungry.” Envisioning a food-sufficient community, he inspired his fellow-teachers to donate seeds and encouraged the villagers to plant fruit trees and vegetables. Working with the Pegalongan Farmers Association, he accessed assistance from private organizations and government agencies. Prodded and encouraged by his leadership, Pegalongan farmers now have a collectively-owned rice-and-corn mill, a seed bank, a cattle dispersal project, and horses for transporting their farm products. The village is also now participating in a government forest rehabilitation program which by 2014 will have a hundred forested hectares, with the Matigsalug of Pegalongan as stewards and beneficiaries. And HALASAN’s youthful graduates are helping their elders protect their future and the legal rights to their ancestral domain.

According to oral tradition, the word Pegalongan means ‘the place from which the light shines.’ Because of one highly motivated civil servant, the village has become truly what its name suggests. Explaining his motivation, HALASAN says quite simply; “No one got rich out of teaching; it’s your legacy that matters.”

In electing RANDY HALASAN to receive the 2014 Ramon Magsaysay Award for Emergent Leadership, the board of trustees recognizes his purposeful dedication in nurturing his Matigsalug students and their community to transform their lives through quality education and sustainable livelihoods, doing so in ways that respect their uniqueness and preserve their integrity as indigenous peoples in a modernizing Philippines.

Almost all of us experience a lot of struggles in life. Even my college life was an uphill battle. When my father died, I had to pursue my education by working part time. My dream was to become a lawyer or a doctor but due to limited financial resources, I therefore studied teaching. Now, looking back on my life, there must have been a reason for this career choice—I was meant to be with the Matigsalog tribe of Pegalongan in Davao City. On January 8, 2007, as a newly appointed public school teacher, I was sent to Pegalongan Elementary School, the farthest school in all of Davao City—inaccessible, poor, and isolated from any communication. At that time, we were only two teachers handling all the grade levels.

I told myself I had to transfer immediately; I knew I would not be happy there. But as the days passed—when I saw the poverty in the community, when I saw in the people’s eyes and gestures that they needed me—I began to love who they are and their simple lives. When we held the school’s first-ever graduation ceremonies, it was so memorable because I saw the happiness in the eyes of both the students and their parents. The Matigsalog elders openly cried when they witnessed the program: they never imagined their children could finish elementary education, given Pegalongan’s remoteness and isolation.

Since then, we have been able to increase the number of teachers and school facilities, among other improvements. We opened a secondary school that benefits not only the Matigsalog of Davao City but also those from Bukidnon, a neighboring province. Still, I was not happy, seeing my hungry students and their impoverished families. Even though I was already school-in-charge by 2010, I realized that I could not concentrate only on formal education. I decided to extend my work to the community so they could learn to make their ancestral land productive. I learned to work with the people of Pegalongan to plant crops like cacao, rubber, coffee and fruit trees. The tribe is now practicing multi-cropping to become food sufficient. Hundreds of malibago plants were planted along the river to protect us from soil erosion and flood.

My vision for the Matigsalog in Pegalongan is to uplift their lives from poverty. This was also the vision of the late President Magsaysay who showed his passion and commitment to serve everyone equally, and to ensure justice to all Filipinos.

I never expected to receive a prestigious award such as the Ramon Magsaysay Award. This is an extraordinary award, and it makes me feel very happy and fulfilled. For me, being a Magsaysay awardee is not about becoming popular; rather, it is a strong call to have greater passion, to serve our fellow Filipinos, and to become a true role model and inspiration for others. Rich or poor, I believe there are no limitations in helping our fellowmen, especially the poor. Nobody got rich from the teaching profession, but a teacher like me gets rich from sharing knowledge, values, and positive attitudes to the community.

I would like to recognize those who have given their effort and support to my vision for Sitio Pegalongan: my co-teachers, the Davao City government, field officers in the education, agriculture and environment agencies, other generous partners in our development efforts. My deep gratitude also goes to the people of Pegalongan—sitio officials, tribal elders, our students and their families—they believed in our vision of an educated and food-sufficient community. Special thanks to my former District Supervisor Ms. Ava Marie Santiago, to Bato Balani Foundation and to the media who put public attention to our work. Also, it is impossible for me to fully express my gratitude to my family, whose unconditional love and acceptance has encouraged me through all the frustrations and dangers. Above all, to our almighty God, whose guiding hand has always given me the strength to go on.

I truly believe that we can build a strong Philippines. If we open our hearts to serve the people without expecting any personal returns, whatever challenges and obstacles we experience, we can overcome all of these if we are determined, patient, and hardworking.

Mabuhay po ang mga Pilipino! Mabuhay po ang mga gurong Pilipino!

In few countries of the world is journalism as professionally intricate, politically risky, and socially challenging as in China. And because of China’s position in the world, in few countries is journalism’s practice as far-reaching in its consequences. In this context, the career of sixty-one-year-old HU SHULI is truly exemplary. HU comes from a distinguished line of journalists: her mother was senior editor of Workers’ Daily in Beijing; her grandfather was an editor of a Shanghai newspaper; and a grand uncle was a publisher and the deputy minister of culture before the Cultural Revolution. While HU’s family fell from grace during the Cultural Revolution, HU stayed in the stream of events. She joined the Red Guards and later the People’s Liberation Army, graduated from Beijing’s People’s University, and started her journalistic career by working for Workers’ Daily.

In 1987, a five-month sojourn as a fellow of the World Press Institute opened HU’s eyes to Western media. Upon her return, she published the first book which introduced Chinese audiences to the operations of professional journalism as practiced in the United States. China Business Times subsequently tapped her to serve as their international editor where she served for six years. In 1998 she established and edited Caijing, a glossy business magazine whose circulation rose to 225,000 because of the quality of its coverage and its groundbreaking investigative reporting. Even among those they investigated, Caijing staff were widely acknowledged for their discipline, thoroughness, and integrity—standards which HU uncompromisingly demanded of herself and her colleagues.

In a media environment where the very idea of “investigative journalism” seems defiant, Caijing’s reporting was cutting-edge journalism. Its well-researched reports included illegal trading practices in the Shanghai Stock Exchange, exposes of the government cover-up of the true extent of the 2003 SARS epidemic, the anomalous privatization of the huge, state-owned Luneng conglomerate, and falsification of the profits of Yinguangxia, one of the largest Chinese companies. These Caijing articles generated wide attention and led to the ousting of high public officials, the prosecution of corporate leaders, reforms in China’s stock market—and to HU SHULI being called “the most dangerous woman in China.” In November 2009, HU and her colleagues left Caijing and formed Caixin Media Group, a Beijing-based media organization with multimedia platforms including four periodicals, online news portals, books, TV/video programs, conferences, and mobile applications. With HU as editor-in-chief, Caixin has carried investigative reports on corporate fraud and government corruption, including the sale-for-adoption of children confiscated by family planning officials in Hunan province.

The significance of HU’s work, however, goes beyond investigative journalism. Through her skill and leadership, she has demonstrated that one can form a world-class, independent media organization in China, which combines commercial success and state-of-the-art technology with professional integrity and independence. As both a practicing journalist and the dean of Sun Yat-Sen University’s School of Communication and Design, HU has launched training programs for journalists and enhanced the professional and ethical standards of Chinese journalism. Admired by colleagues in China and abroad, she has changed China’s media landscape.

HU’s journalistic style is balanced and strongly-researched, does not stir up emotions, and keeps its eye on the issues rather than on personalities. Hers is a journalism that works within the system but preserves the critical distance that is journalism’s strength. HU compares her journalism to the action of the woodpecker, “forever hammering at a tree, trying not to knock it down but to make it grow straighter.” It is a nice analogy, but one too modest to describe the profound impact she has had on journalism in China.

In electing HU SHULI to receive the 2014 Ramon Magsaysay Award, the board of trustees recognizes her unrelenting commitment to truthful, relevant, and unassailable journalism, her fearless promotion of transparency and accountability in business and governance, and her leadership in blazing the way for more professional and independent-minded media practices in China.

It is an amazing honor to receive the Ramon Magsaysay Award. I’m both thrilled and humbled. In transitional countries like China, journalists like me face many obstacles to perform our jobs, but some special moments always make all our efforts worthwhile. This is definitely one of such moments.

Lingering in my mind are also those moments filled with ecstasy—filing an exclusive story and seeing readers rush to tell each other about it; those moments followed by change—might be a new regulation, or the failure of a massive business scheme, or even an industry overhaul—and those moments that make you feel you are shedding light to the unseen, lending a voice to the unheard, and illuminating a path where everyone is searching for direction. These moments never come easily. But they would come, as long as you try hard, and never give up.

Several weeks ago, such a moment grasped me. When the Chinese government finally announced the downfall of Zhou Yongkang, a former politburo standing committee member, Caixin immediately published a sixty-thousand-word, five-part piece detailing the Byzantium business and corruption web of Zhou.

A colleague at Caixin, who spent a whole year leading our investigation team to unearth that story, couldn’t help but cry out loud against those who say that journalists can’t do a good job in China.

Who said journalists can’t do a good job in China? That is what I’ve spent my whole professional life to disprove; that’s why I gathered together two hundred excellent journalists at Caixin, and that’s what keeps so many Chinese journalists to continue doing their job, despite the difficulties which stem from everywhere. It’s a blessing to be a journalist in today’s China, where there are endless stories to cover. And Chinese journalists can do a good job. My colleagues and I share this belief, and I’m very honored that you, the Ramon Magsaysay Award Foundation and our friends across Asia, share this too.

Indonesia’s rainforests, the world’s third largest, are gravely threatened. Worse, it is not just forests that are being decimated by rampant corporate interests, government negligence, corruption and other destructive practices. What stands threatened as well is the very existence of an estimated forty million indigenous peoples who live within the forest, and who are dependent on forest resources for their food, shelter, and livelihood.

In 1999, SAUR MARLINA MANURUNG, a young Indonesian anthropologist, decided to devote her life to protecting and uplifting the lives of Indonesia’s Orang Rimba, the local name for “forest people.” Her life choice was both radical and surprising. Though drawn even as a child to an outdoor life, MANURUNG, known universally as “BUTET,” was raised in the sheltered environment of a middle-class family in Jakarta. With degrees in literature and anthropology, she could easily have chosen a career as a citified academic. But she said: “I’d had enough just playing around with nature. It was time for me to do something and become useful.”

After working as an education facilitator for four years with a forest conservation organization in Sumatra, BUTET formed SOKOLA with four other NGO colleagues, focusing on the education of forest people, starting in the Jambi jungle. Their major program called Sokola Rimba, or “Jungle School” was inspired by BUTET’s direct experience as a nomadic teacher, living with the Orang Rimba and moving with them as they traveled from place to place to hunt or gather forest products. Armed with only a small blackboard, some chalk, a few books and pencils, for eight years BUTET would teach groups of children out in the open, focusing on basic literacy and relevant life skills.

Focused on the Bukit Duabelas National Park in Central Sumatra, where an estimated three thousand five hundred Orang Rimba live in relative isolation. SOKOLA’s volunteer teachers do not follow a fixed template but customize their teaching to the local context in consultation with the Orang Rimba community. SOKOLA emphasizes life-skills rather than academic knowledge, stressing basic literacy for children and practical skills to cope with the changing forest environment. Increasingly, Orang Rimba have to deal with the encroachment of forest-exploiting businesses, government agencies, threatening their basic rights, livelihoods, and community cohesion. Since the Orang Rimba are hunters-and-gatherers, SOKOLA schedules are flexible and teachers must follow them as they move.

BUTET and her volunteer teachers struggle with the challenge of sustaining an organization that relies mainly on donations and volunteerism, the dangers of working in remote locations (caught between illegal loggers and the people they seek to help), and cultural taboos that discourage girls from being schooled. Impressively, BUTET’s leadership has built up SOKOLA into a network of fourteen schools in ten provinces, run by volunteer teachers and trained Orang Rimba youth, benefitting ten thousand children and adults. A cadre of young, newly-literate Orang Rimba are now able to serve their people as tutors and community leaders. Trained in advocacy and empowered to do liaison between their communities and the outside world, these youth represent their elders and “speak to the national government” on policies that impact on the forest people. SOKOLA’s challenges remain formidable, but an undeterred BUTET is confident that SOKOLA’s second generation of volunteer teachers will grow and inspire similar initiatives by others. She herself does not plan to do anything else. “As long as I can still carry my backpack and I can still walk, nothing and no one can stop me,” she quietly asserts.

In electing SAUR MARLINA MANURUNG to receive the 2014 Ramon Magsaysay Award, the board of trustees recognizes her ennobling passion to protect and improve the lives of Indonesia’s forest people, and her energizing leadership of volunteers in SOKOLA’s customized education program that is sensitive to the lifeways of indigenous communities and the development challenges they face.

Good afternoon, magandang hapon. May I first express my gratitude to the Ramon Magsaysay Award Foundation for making it possible for me to be here on this special day. Thank you RMAF President Abella and your fantastic team!

I believe every person on this earth has his or her own dreams. When I was a child, I was a huge fan of adventure books and films. I dreamt that one day I would work in the middle of a jungle just like Indiana Jones. My work in my country’s jungles over the last fifteen years has been a dream for me, and getting awards has never been my goal. I am simply a tool that was sharpened by those around me, first and foremost my dear students in the jungle, who are my life-teachers.

A nation’s progress is often judged by the strength of its economy or the size of its GDP. Many people feel indigenous peoples (or IPs for short) should also contribute to this type of ‘progress’. GDP does not calculate what is valuable in the eyes of IPs: the cost of lost cultures and local knowledge, dramatic reductions in biodiversity and the negative impacts of such reductions on social capital.

The Orang Rimba—our term for the forest people—with whom I have worked for many years are nomadic hunters and gatherers, who lived isolated in the rainforest of Sumatra for thousands of years. They were not able to understand numbers when buying and selling goods at the market; they did not comprehend the contracts they were signing which sold their lands. They were unable to participate in the forums which discussed their collective futures. All of this is because they were illiterate, unable to speak Indonesian, and were not aware of their rights. Similar issues are faced by indigenous peoples worldwide.

Now they have these skills they have more power in taking control over resources to sustain their lives, and are able to make informed decisions affecting their futures. Literacy has become their main capital for gaining other expertise. Therefore appropriate education with appropriate methods is a crucial investment.

It saddens me that we have become so detached from nature. I believe the world would be a better place if we had more respect for indigenous peoples and their choices. They are small in number, making up only less than one percent of the world’s population, yet they inhabit almost one-third of the world’s arable land.

The Orang Rimba have taught me many things about life—not to mention fun! Orang Rimba have also been the proving grounds for all teachers at SOKOLA and myself. We began our adventure there and as we gained confidence, we were able to build schools throughout Indonesia. Thank you friends! I stand here representing you. For all indigenous peoples throughout the world, I send you this message: “I hope the time has come that you can represent yourselves and determine your own fate.”

I am not the only person who has this vision. It is shared by all of us in SOKOLA, and many other persons and groups in Indonesia and elsewhere who work with IPs.

I cannot end my response without thanking those who have led me to accept this great honor today. Thank you to my amazing team, SOKOLA. Without your support and passion, I would not be here. I hope this award will inspire us at SOKOLA to continue to deliver the best possible education outcomes so our people will have a better chance to realize self-determination. Thank you to the many dear friends and supporters of SOKOLA across Indonesia and other countries. Thank you also to my loving husband Kelvin, and my family who always understand me and have guided this stubborn head of mine from when I was a small child until today.

The state of war in Afghanistan over the past decades has exacted a toll not too widely recognized. In the midst of the country’s civil strife, the bombings, looting, and willful destruction by the Taliban of what they considered “non-Muslim” heritage have resulted in the massive loss of priceless historical and cultural treasures. Called the “crossroads of civilizations,” Afghanistan is a country rich in an ancient, cosmopolitan heritage of Hellenistic, Hindu, Buddhist, and Islamic cultures. The loss of this heritage is of profound importance to Afghanistan and to the world.

One man has been engaged, against great odds, in preserving the Afghan heritage for generations present and future. Trained in history, sixty-six-year-old OMARA KHAN MASOUDI joined the National Museum of Afghanistan in Kabul in 1978 and became its deputy director in 1998. He witnessed the ferocious assault on his country’s cultural patrimony. The museum was bombed and looted. Under a Taliban decree that authorized the destruction of objects considered un-Islamic, the famous, sixth-century Buddha statues of Bamyan were rocket-blasted and reduced to rubble, and hammer-wielding Taliban entered the museum and smashed works of art they deemed “idolatrous.” In 1979, the museum had some one hundred thousand objects; by the mid-1990s, 70 percent of these treasures had been destroyed, looted, or lost.

At great risk to his life, MASOUDI led his colleagues in moving some of the most precious objects—including the world-famous Bactrian treasure of some twenty thousand ancient gold ornaments—to the safety of other locations, and secret vaults deep underneath Kabul’s city streets. Their locations were known only to MASOUDI and a few other colleagues, who swore never to reveal to the Taliban the secret. Forced out of the museum by the collapse of government, MASOUDI stayed on in Kabul and supported his family by selling onions and potatoes on the sidewalk, while keeping an eye on the museum.

It was only when the Taliban rule ended in 2002 that he could return to the museum. Appointed museum director under the Karzai government, MASOUDI faced the herculean task of rebuilding a damaged and depleted museum. Despite the extremely difficult circumstances, he succeeded: resurrecting the collections he and his colleagues had hidden and saved, restoring historical monuments, and repairing broken museum objects. He also successfully negotiated the return of Afghan cultural treasures that had been moved or smuggled to foreign countries, and organized expositions in foreign countries to raise funds and promote international appreciation and support for Afghan cultural preservation. For more than a decade, MASOUDI has supervised the physical rehabilitation of the museum, and initiated training programs to build a pool of museological expertise. He even upgraded and expanded the country’s network of provincial and satellite museums.

The museum in Kabul was reopened to the public in 2004; its depleted collections have been built up to sixty-five thousand items and up to twenty-five thousand visitors now come to the museum yearly. Much work still needs to be done and the political situation in Afghanistan remains fragile, but the National Museum has been amazingly resurrected from the ashes.

In front of the museum in Kabul these words are encrypted in stone: “A nation stays alive only when it can keep its history and culture alive.” These are words MASOUDI takes to heart. The museum, he says, is a ‘storyteller of the past,’ and it tells the story of how, for thousands of years, Afghanistan was enriched by the confluence of civilizations, and how Afghans have used these influences in positive ways, producing high forms of spirituality and great art. Torn apart by rabid intolerance in recent times, Afghans need to listen to this great story. MASOUDI says, “I’m hopeful that our culture can play a big role in creating space, in restoring national unity.”

In electing OMARA KHAN MASOUDI to receive the 2014 Ramon Magsaysay Award, the board of trustees recognizes his courage, labor, and leadership in protecting Afghan cultural heritage, rebuilding an institution vital for Afghanistan’s future, and reminding his countrymen and peoples everywhere that in recognizing humanity’s shared patrimony, we can be inspired to stand together in peace.

I am very happy to be here with you today to receive the Ramon Magsaysay Award from the foundation. I feel honored, humbled, and deeply moved by the decision to give me that important distinction.

I feel that I alone do not deserve this. Rather, it is my work and the work of my colleagues that has earned this honor. And, therefore, I accept it with profound gratitude on behalf of my staff at the National Museum.

I think that culture is an essential component of human development. It represents a source of identity, innovation and creativity for individuals and amongst communities. Thus, culture must become an integral part of development strategies and policies and should involve all development partners and stakeholders.

Safeguarding all aspects of cultural property in my country—including museums, monuments, archaeological sites, music, the arts, and traditional crafts—is of particular significance in terms of strengthening cultural identity. And it is preserving a sense of national integrity. Cultural heritage is a point of mutual interest, enabling us to rebuild ties, to engage in dialogue, and to work together in shaping a common future.

We—I and my team at the National Museum of Afghanistan—have helped protect the extraordinary collection of the Museum over many years. We are also making efforts to safeguard this Afghan history for future generations. Our strategy is to re-establish links between Afghans and their cultural history, helping to develop a sense of common ownership, while at the same time representing the cultural heritage of our diverse society. Our overall objective is to raise public awareness throughout Afghanistan about the value of its cultural history, and about the responsibilities for protection and preservation that the next generation will inherit.

International relationships are crucial to the future of the National Museum. The future lies in working together.

Pakistan, says the UNESCO, has the world’s second highest number of children who are out of school—around five and a half million, some 66 percent of them girls. It can also be a dangerous place for education, being one of those countries seriously challenged by religious extremism. The shooting of Pakistani schoolgirl Malala Yousafzai in 2012 and the abduction of 276 schoolgirls in Nigeria just this year has appalled the world. But shocking as these events are, the problem is even broader than the cases may suggest, since the denial of education is caused as well by widespread poverty and the stark deficit in government spending on education.

In 1995, a group of six Pakistani business leaders and executives decided they could not just sit back and watch the country’s educational system deteriorate and thus leave the country’s poor trapped in the vicious cycle of poverty. They needed to mobilize investments in education, and deciding at the outset that they could not ask for private sector support unless they put in their own money first, they built five schools contributing their own personal funds. They launched THE CITIZENS FOUNDATION (TCF) as a nonprofit organization, declaring as its mission “to remove barriers of class and privilege” through affordable, quality education and “to make the citizens of Pakistan agents of positive change.”

From the outset, TCF had a clear vision of the schools it would build: well-designed and fully-equipped buildings with a capacity for 180 students at the elementary level and 360 at the secondary level; located in poor districts, whether urban or rural; open to all, but maintaining a 50/50 balance of boys and girls; professionally managed by well-trained teachers.

To assure quality, TCF has adopted an improved version of the government-mandated curriculum; develops its own books and instructional materials; and runs intensive pre-service and in-service programs for its teachers in its two teacher training centers. To assure access by the poor, tuition fees are low and costs are heavily subsidized, with 100 percent of TCF students covered by full or partial scholarships. Books and uniforms for the children are provided free.

TCF’s success has been spectacular. From its initial five schools and eight hundred students in 1996, the TCF network has now grown to one thousand schools, spread over a hundred towns and cities, with over 145,000 students in attendance, and guided by 7,700 teachers and principals. Consistent with TCF’s expressed desire to open up employment opportunities for women, all the teachers in their schools are women. Academically, TCF students have a 92 percent passing rate, higher than the national average of 56 percent, in the Matric Test required to earn their Secondary School Certificates.

All this has become possible through a well-conceived portfolio of donor packages that taps corporate sponsors, and tens of thousands of individual donors— particularly among the Pakistani diaspora—through TCF chapters in seven countries outside Pakistan. This fund mobilization has been greatly aided by TCF’s corporate-style management system, an impressive track record in the academic results of TCF students, and by its reputation for transparency, accountability, and efficiency. TCF has successfully tapped a vital wellspring of civic responsiveness among Pakistanis, and hopes that its example will be followed by other groups. As one of its founders says, “This project belongs to the people of Pakistan. It’s for them to sustain. We have to learn to stand up and solve our problems.”

In electing THE CITIZENS FOUNDATION to receive the 2014 Ramon Magsaysay Award, the board of trustees recognizes the social vision and high-level professionalism of its founders and those who run its schools, in successfully pursuing their conviction that, with sustained civic responsiveness, quality education made available to all— irrespective of religion, gender, or economic status—is the key to Pakistan’s brighter future.

It is immensely humbling and an absolute honor to stand here before you and accept the Ramon Magsaysay Award on behalf of my organisation, The Citizens Foundation (TCF). Thank you. We are humbled to be included amongst reputed personalities and be the first organization in Pakistan to receive this award.

In Pakistan, dinner table conversations in which one bemoans the current state of the country and its future prospects are all too common. People’s concerns are, at least, partly valid; Pakistan has a politically volatile landscape, and paltry public expenditure, amongst other challenges. But truth be told, we see that there is much more good than bad in this world. In the face of our country’s problems, there are innumerable people and NGOs working towards a better Pakistan. Nineteen years ago, our journey, too, started with a similar conversation. Inspired by a belief that the root cause of Pakistan’s problems stem from the lack of education, we resolved to establish quality schools in lesser privileged parts of the country. What started off as a vision to build a thousand schools, over the past nineteen years, garnered a kind of support that we had never imagined; we are constantly humbled by the scores of people, both at home and abroad, supporting our dream.

As the largest private provider of education in Pakistan, we feel a certain sense of pride at how far we’ve come—how far our students, staff, teachers, supporters, and donors, have brought TCF. Today, thousands of children are off the streets and in TCF’s primary and secondary schools. But despite recently reaching our milestone of one thousand schools, the journey ahead remains long—while some of our students have been admitted into Pakistan’s best higher education business and management institutes, many more children, in lesser privileged parts of the country, remain to be educated. We dream to see a day where no child, in Pakistan or elsewhere, should be deprived of a quality education, where regardless of their socio-economic backgrounds; children everywhere have equal opportunities to develop, academically and otherwise. We owe all our success so far to God, who blessed us with a wonderful family of supporters who keep our organisation running, and our amazing students who prove to be a daily motivation for this work.

It is a great honor for us to join the list of illustrious, inspiring, and untiring individuals and organisations that have been conferred the Ramon Magsaysay Award, and we are excited for the host of opportunities that this award will bring with it.

In recent decades, China’s relentless drive for economic growth has put the environment under great stress—poisoning China’s water and air, polluting cities and farmlands, and putting the lives of millions at risk. That China’s environmental problem has reached crisis levels is acknowledged by China’s central government, which has passed and strengthened a large number of environmental protection laws. But the success of this effort hinges on the strength of public participation in addressing what stands as one of China’s most serious challenges.

This is where WANG CANFA, a fifty-five-year-old environmental lawyer, has played an essential role. The son of peasants in Shandong province, WANG knew early on how the poor can be crippled by a sense of powerlessness. He worked long and hard to earn law degrees from Jilin University and Beijing University, and rose to become a leading environmental legal scholar and lawyer in China.

In 1998, as a professor at China University of Political Science and Law, he founded the Center for Legal Assistance to Pollution Victims (CLAPV), the first center of its kind in China to focus on providing free legal help to pollution victims. Manned by WANG as director, a deputy and a pool of pro bono volunteer lawyers, CLAPV has handled through its hotline more than thirteen thousand environmental complaints; filed more than 550 cases, including some class action suits involving as many as 1,721 plaintiffs; and scored victories against chemical, steel, mining, waste incineration and other plants. CLAPV’s legal victories have led to the suspension of some environmentally-destructive projects and secured compensation for victims.

But WANG’s work extends beyond litigation. Knowing that enlightened action is the key, and working constructively in what is a relatively new field, CLAPV has conducted training in environmental law for around a thousand lawyers, judges, and other stakeholders and built a network of practitioners of environmental law. Going even further, WANG and his colleagues have participated in the drafting and review of more than thirty environmental laws and regulations. His participation in legislation has promoted directly the establishment of some legal systems which is benefit of victims’ rights protection and punishing polluters. CLAPV has raised wide public awareness in environmental protection and guarding environmental right through publications, mobile consultancy services, and linkages with other organizations. Energetic and highly respected from both nongovernment and government, WANG is at the center of all these efforts.

In 2010, WANG took another bold step when he established a public interest law firm specializing in environmental law that provides pro bono services. Beijing Huanzhu Law Firm, with more than thirty lawyer-volunteers, has continued and bolstered CLAPV’s litigation efforts. To date, the firm has tenaciously pursued some two hundred litigation and non-litigation cases

For WANG and his colleagues, the difficulties are seemingly insurmountable— working with and through China’s web of laws and regulations, shifts in policy, and a weak justice system; negotiating the divide between central and local governments; confronting powerful corporate interests; and raising the funds to sustain their pro bono programs. But WANG is undeterred.

Working out of a tiny law office in a rundown Beijing apartment block, this diminutive, amiable, and unprepossessing man is “larger-than-life” for those who know of his work as leader of a broad network of environmental lawyers, academics, and community groups. WANG knows the way ahead is not easy, but he remains resolutely optimistic. “As long as we persist, the goal of establishing Chinese environmental rule of law will be achieved someday,” he asserts.

In electing WANG CANFA to receive the 2014 Ramon Magsaysay Award, the board of trustees recognizes his discerning and forceful leadership—through scholarly work, disciplined advocacy, and pro bono public interest litigation—in ensuring that the enlightened and competent practice of environmental law in China effectively protects the rights and lives of victims of environmental abuse, especially the poor and the powerless.

One month ago when I was visiting the UK, I was told that I have been selected as one of the winners of the 2014 Magsaysay Award. Professor Bob from the University of Exeter looked happier than me, and soon put my award-wining news as important news to his University’s front page. Peking University, which I once attended, also released the news on its webpage. Thousands of my colleagues and friends from NGOs and other agencies sent congratulations to me by various channels. I am very happy to share this great honor with so many friends. Here I would like to thank the Magsaysay Family and Board members of the Magsaysay Foundation for an objective evaluation of CLAPV’s and my work. I also like to thank all CLAPV’s volunteers and other organizations and agencies for their contribution and support.

Frankly, I never expected to receive this prestigious award. As an ordinary professor at the law school, I just conducted my teaching and research on environmental law, and at the same time organized volunteers who care deeply about environmental rule of law to provide legal aid to pollution victims. We just tried to turn legal provisions in the books into actions. These efforts put greater pressure on illegal polluters to force them to comply with existing environmental laws; and push government agencies to take stricter action against violators.

The Magsaysay Award is not only in recognition of CLAPV and my work, but also a confirmation of the effectiveness of the support from others in promoting environmental rule of law in China. It recognizes both the challenges we face and the progress we are making in addressing the plight of pollution victims and constructing an ecologically civilized society.

It is certainly encouraging that CLAPV’s efforts have achieved some success. This year, China adopted the new amendments to the Environmental Protection Law, considered the best environmental legislation so far, and includes some strict measures and new legal systems. We in CLAPV will continue striving to play a greater role in advancing environmental rights protection and rule of law in China.

We only have one earth and environmental harm knows no borders. To protect China’s environment is to protect the world’s environment. To help pollution victims in China is to protect our individual environmental rights as well. I hope organizations dedicated to environment protection and social justice continue providing support to China to solve its environmental problems. This will help China not only to play a constructive role in global environmental protection; it will also transform its economic growth to be green growth.

Over the past recent years, the Magsaysay Award has been given to several Chinese environmental activists; because of this, I personally believe that the Magsaysay Award has, to some extent, promoted environmental protection in China.

I wish to close with a reminder that I had mentioned earlier: We have only one earth, and environmental harm knows no boundaries. So I ask you: Please, let us all work together to protect our home planet, and realize our green dream!