Our Broken Fisheries

When Oceana calls the state of Philippine fisheries a national food security emergency, it is not advocacy exaggeration so much as a report card on a decade of weak enforcement.

The catch has fallen hard, from 2.6 million metric tons in 2010 to about 1.9 million metric tons in 2023, which works out to roughly 45 million kilograms of fish disappearing from the market every year.

That is why the wet market feels different now, with staple fish like galunggong not only pricier but sometimes harder to find, especially for families who already stretch every meal.

What the Oceana assessment adds, beyond the alarm, is a clear picture of how the bleeding happens in plain sight.

Scientists using satellite “night lights” detected more than 270,000 likely commercial vessel incursions in municipal waters and protected zones from 2017 to 2024.

Municipal waters, the 15-kilometer band from the coastline, are legally set aside for small-scale fishers and for fish to spawn, yet they are being treated like open season.

This is where the accountability question stops being abstract, because intrusion on that scale is not a secret, it is either tolerated or not prioritized.

The report’s blunt phrase, “incompetence meeting greed,” lands because government agencies have the mandate and the tools, but enforcement still looks optional.

BFAR’s biggest blind spot is the continued delay in fully implementing vessel monitoring measures that would show, in near real time, who is fishing where.

Industry pushback and legal roadblocks are not excuses, because the longer monitoring is stalled, the easier it is for the biggest operators to keep gambling with the country’s protein supply.

The people paying first are not the boat owners with capital, but the small fishers who are supposed to be protected by the 15-kilometer rule.

The report cites more than 353,000 fishing families living below the poverty line in 2023, including about 93,000 considered “food-poor,” which is a brutal irony for communities surrounded by water.

In some areas, monthly incomes as low as PHP 2,500 to PHP 7,000 explain why the profession is aging, with many fishers now around 50 and their children choosing anything but the sea.

When the next generation walks away, the country loses labor and a deep store of maritime knowledge that cannot be replaced by a press release or a training seminar.

Solutions have to be practical, not performative, and the first step is to treat illegal intrusion in municipal waters as economic theft with consequences that hurt.

That means activating vessel monitoring measures now, tying licenses to compliance, and imposing penalties that make violations cost more than they earn.

It also means a transparent audit of marine protected areas, because “paper MPAs” are not protection, and an MPA without wardens, patrols and budget is just cartography.

Coastal enforcement needs resources, too, including capable Bantay Dagat units, fuel budgets, legal support for prosecution, and public reporting of arrests, cases filed and convictions.

Finally, the government has to be honest about what recovery requires, including science-based limits, seasonal closures, and, where necessary, temporary moratoriums in the most stressed areas.

This is the bigger picture that should bother Malacañang, because a country that cannot police its own 15-kilometer zones against local commercial fleets will struggle to claim credibility in protecting its wider waters.

Fixing fisheries is not only about saving fish, but also about proving the state can enforce its own rules before the market runs out of mercy.