A simple Google search of the Philippines reveals thousands of photos of clear, blue waters surrounding islands overflowing with trees and the abundant marine fauna and mangroves captured alongside divers and tourists.

Time and again, the government flaunts the beauty of the country’s oceans to the point that it opened Boracay to the rest of the world despite the far-off possibility of curbing the virus. However, for a country that takes a lot of pride in its oceans, it sure knows how not to invest in its marine ecosystem.

“We are dependent on the ocean for our livelihood, our sustenance, and even for recreation, for aesthetic purposes, and it’s very important to restore the abundance that our forefathers used to have … but that is not what is happening,” said lawyer Gloria Ramos, vice president of Oceana Philippines.

Lately, issues concerning the country’s oceans have been making the headlines more often as the government becomes more shameless in implementing reclamation projects on top of the commercialization and privatization of fisheries, leaving the ocean life in danger and the municipal fisherfolk in even more dismal conditions.

The Pearl of the Orient Seas

Back in the day, older fisherfolk said that fishing once a week was enough to provide for a family’s needs, narrated Fernando Hicap, chairperson of the fisherfolk group Pambansang Lakas ng Mamamalakaya ng Pilipinas (PAMALAKAYA-Pilipinas).

Filipinos have always been dependent on the fishing industry for food, livelihood, and recreation. Fish is the country’s second staple food next to rice, with every Filipino consuming about 109 grams of fish and fish products daily in 2017, according to the Southeast Asian Development Center.

Emmanuel Pedroso, a fisherman from San Remigio, a fishing village in Cebu, benefits firsthand from the rich marine resources of the island. His family’s only source of income is fishing, which has provided for their needs for nearly three decades now.

Every day, he wakes up at four in the morning to sail far out to sea, where he spends about four hours or until the heat becomes unbearable. At night, Pedroso goes back to fishing so he could have enough catch for his wife and two children, as well as pay for the boat’s fuel.

On good days he earns about P2,000, but most of the time, he only makes P300 to P400, which only covers gasoline expenses. Pedroso’s daily income tiptoes along the poverty threshold in the Philippines of P10,481 a month, or about P350 a day, which is not expected for a fisherman who lives along the Tañon Strait Protected Landscape, the largest protected marine landscape in a vastly archipelagic country.

Despite the rich marine ecosystem in the country, Pedroso, and the rest of the municipal fisherfolk sector, has the highest poverty incidences among the basic sectors in the country, according to the Philippine Statistics Authority’s 2018 data. Anecdotes from municipal fisherfolk, as well as research from PAMALAKAYA, reveal that the culprit behind this is commercial fishing.

“Amo rung mamatikdan diri sa amo-a, naay daghang isda namo mupundo diri sa amo-ang lawod dapit, unya ug suruyon na anang mga dagkong panagatan, dagko na kaayog makinarya, inig ugma intawon, maghuyhuy na among abaga kay wala naman mi makuha,” said Pedroso.

(As what we have observed here, whenever there are lots of fishes near our municipal waters, fishing vessels with large machinery would scour them. The next day, we would be downhearted because there is nothing left for us to catch.)

Municipal fisherfolk, with their low-technology equipment, would not be able to compete with the advanced machinery of commercial fishing vessels, PAMALAKAYA said. In fact, the income from one day’s worth of commercial fishing can already feed a fisherfolk’s family for an entire month.

All fishery-related activities in municipal waters should be reserved for the municipal fisherfolk and their organizations, per the Philippine Fisheries Code of 1998. Municipal fishing is defined under the law to those fishers whose boats weigh three tons or less. Small and medium commercial fishing vessels are not allowed to operate within municipal waters, unless they are permitted by the municipal or city government to do so.

While the fisheries code has provided a degree of protection to the municipal fisherfolk, the oceans still have not recovered from getting decimated by illegal fishing, and the municipal fisherfolk sector is yet to find its stride toward earning enough to live a comfortable life.

Despite that, while the municipal fisherfolk community is in shambles, what with the very little income they earn amid the pandemic, House Bill (HB) 7853 was proposed in October 2020. The bill seeks to amend the fisheries code to allow small and medium commercial fishing vessels within municipal waters. Rep. Pablo John Garcia of the Cebu third district proposed the bill where he cited “economic gains” and how the pandemic has “debilitated many industries and has left workers in destitute” as the rationale behind it.

Various environmental and fisherfolk organizations, like Oceana and PAMALAKAYA, opposed HB 7853. “It’s not well-researched, to say it lightly,” criticized Ramos. “Rampant violations, encroachment of illegal commercial fishers have really decimated our [marine] population. Imagine if this bill will legitimize the illegal operation.”

If the bill is approved, Hicap said, the fisherfolk community will revert to their state in the 1980s, before the 1998 code was implemented. Back then, there was no distinction on where commercial and municipal fisherfolks could operate, resulting in a lot of violent disputes between them.

Since millions of fisherfolk cannot be absorbed by the commercial fishing industry, they had to compete with the large and high-tech gear of big-ticket fishing companies. Municipal fisherfolk, eager to take back what is theirs, would sneak into the commercial fishing vessels and get the catch of the commercial fisherfolk. This resulted in an all-out war with gunshots and even arson between the ones working for the fishing companies and the remaining municipal fisherfolk, as in the case of San Miguel Bay in Camarines Sur in the 1980s between the commercial trawlers and the gill-netted fisherfolk.

“Maraming kaso ng nagbabarilan sa laot, nagpapatayan. Ang masama, ang biktima doon ay yung mga maliliit na mangingisda, hindi naman yung nagmamay-ari ng commercial fishing vessel dahil hindi sila kasama doon sa laot,” said Hicap.

If, indeed, the goal of HB 7853 is to exert all efforts toward the recovery from the pandemic, it should not have been drafted in the first place. Instead of shunning the municipal fisherfolk by throwing them in deep oceans only to be feasted on by the commercial fishing industry, they should be allowed to fish in a healthy ocean. After all, their fishing practices do not endanger the marine ecosystem as 68 percent of them still use manually operated boats, while the rest use motorboats with low-powered engines only, even to this day.

The Pearl of the Orient, Seized

It turns out, the predators out to get the municipal fisherfolk in the country are not only from within our borders but also from thousands of kilometers outside—3, 101 kilometers to be exact. The disputes surrounding the ownership of the West Philippine Sea between the Philippines and China have been escalating over the past year, despite the ruling of the Permanent Court of Arbitration in the country’s favor in 2016.

However, the aggression of the Chinese government has especially intensified amid the pandemic in the same way that Duterte’s fortitude at riding a jet ski to the West Philippine Sea to plant the Philippine flag there turned to downright cowardice. “I did not promise that I would pressure China,” he said, explaining that he would resort to asking China to “kindly” let Filipino fisherfolk sail in peace within their own country.

Earlier this month, China unilaterally imposed a fishing moratorium on the West Philippine Sea from May 1 to August 16, 2021, which covers the waters of Palawan, Zambales, and Batangas. As a response, the Department of Foreign Affairs issued a statement saying that the Philippines does not recognize the moratorium and urges China to “desist from any action and activity that infringes on Philippine sovereignty, sovereign rights, and jurisdiction, in contravention of international law.”

A fishing ban would greatly affect the country’s fishers since the West Philippine Sea constitutes 26 percent of our fishing ground, and it is where about 600,000 Filipino fisherfolk get their income, according to PAMALAKAYA. Seven percent of the country’s fisheries production comes from there, too, according to the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources’ Director Eduardo Gongona, during a Laging Handa briefing on April 26.

Not only are Chinese operations in the West Philippine Sea disarming municipal fisherfolk, they are also blatantly destroying the marine ecosystem. China’s reef destruction in the area constitutes 16,000 hectares, which could be fined up to P1.92 trillion, according to Jerwin Baure, a fisheries expert from AGHAM. It can also be remembered that in April 2019, Chinese fishing vessels were caught harvesting giant clams, which used to be virtually extinct but were replanted by Filipino scientists, in Scarborough Shoal.

Filipinos have been very frustrated and enraged at the lack of a decisive and nationalistic response from the government on the issues regarding the West Philippine Sea. Perhaps, when Presidential Spokesperson Harry Roque said that the dumping of dolomite sand at Manila Bay was for the “mental health” of the Filipinos last year, he was hinting at the many upcoming stressors brought by the government in their policies and responses.

After all, the list of anti-fisherfolk policies the government enacted amid the pandemic does not end with HB 7853 and the surrender of the country’s sovereignty. The Manila Bay reclamation project, for example, is just one of the many projects that aggravated environmentalists and the fisherfolk community.

“As far back as the 1987 Constitution where the state guaranteed our rights to helpful balanced ecology, dapat wala na yang reclamation na yan. It should already be an exemption for ports and essential infrastructure,” Ramos lamented.

She said that anything that destroys the vitality and the health of our ecosystem should not be allowed. However, the advice of experts has only fallen on deaf ears as another batch of the dolomite sand was dumped onto the bay just last month.

Meanwhile, along the waters of Taliptip, San Miguel Aerocity Incorporated was also granted a franchise to build the Bulacan Aerotropolis last year. This project is set to displace communities and sources of livelihood, according to PAMALAKAYA, as well as damage the mangroves in the area, which prevent tsunamis, landslides, and other natural disasters.

The reclamation of Taliptip to build an airport in the middle of a pandemic just does not make sense for Ramos. “In the time of COVID, bagsak na nga eh, nag bankruptcy proceedings sa mga airline companies, anong viability diyan? Talk of economic viability for airports! When tourism is down, maraming jobless, sinong mag-o-operate diyan?”

The expediting of the reclamation projects during a pandemic seems so pointless and counterproductive. However, as Hicap explained, the government is fast-tracking the implementation of these destructive and irreversible programs right now while the fisherfolk are under lockdowns and are unable to demonstrate their protests and calls. “Kaya talagang hindi pwedeng maipagkakaila, datos ng gobyerno mismo yan, na ang mga mangingisdang Pilipino ang pinakamahirap sa pinakamahirap na sektor ng ating lipunan,” he said.

The Pearl of the Orient, Sees

Unlike the unmatched aggression of the Chinese fishing vessels in the West Philippine Sea, the municipal fisherfolk from all over the country are getting organized and making use of everything in their power to be heard and to counter the anti-fisherfolk policies of the government.

After all, PAMALAKAYA, just like all the organizations of marginalized sectors, was formed because of government policies that oppress the Filipino people. They organized against the effects of the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos’ Fisheries Decree of 1975, declaring the fisheries sector as a preferred area of investment. Since then, PAMALAKAYA has been keen on analyzing the impacts of the government’s plans and adamant on opposing those that harm the fisherfolk and the marine ecosystem.

For his part, Pedroso calls on the government to implement projects that benefit the municipal fishers, instead of the big time companies, like establishing ports so that their boats would not get destroyed during calamities. PAMALAKAYA and the rest of the fisherfolk organizations, meanwhile, provide a platform for calls like Pedroso’s to be heard by more people.

As the government continues to profit at the expense of the environment with bills, such as HB 7853, the marginalized sector is utilizing its seat in Congress to support the fisherfolk community. Just last month, the Makabayan bloc filed HB 9192, which seeks to provide a P15,000 financial support to one million municipal fisherfolk in the country.

The fisherfolk, along with lawmakers and nongovernment organizations like Oceana, also actively use legal means to oppose harmful government policies, like filing petitions and resolutions. Ramos said that in Oceana’s complaint against San Miguel for the reclamation in Bulacan, the fisherfolk were their co-petitioners. There have also been resolutions against the reclamation projects in Manila Bay and Bulacan filed by progressive lawmakers, which are backed by fisherfolk organizations.

The sector has also been making use of social media platforms to amplify their concerns and organize petitions to protect the marine ecosystem. Oceana crafted an online petition to oppose HB 7853, which has now obtained over 1,000 signatures from individuals all over the country.

Similar to how small fish organize to deter predators, Pedroso, along with the rest of the Philippine fisherfolk sector, is one with the fight against exploitative policies that the government plans to throw at them.

“It’s not us, just us, adapting to the virtual world that we are in but also the fisherfolk, and this should be a warning to all politicians that the fisherfolks are stronger, better organized, by alienating them, and by marginalizing them some more,” Ramos said. ●