The battle for fish is no longer just at sea.
It’s now between small-scale subsistence fishers and commercial operators muscling into municipal waters—often with the silent blessing of local officials.
In coastal provinces like Iloilo and Guimaras, this quiet encroachment has become a daily threat to the livelihoods of poor fisherfolk who depend on nearshore fishing to survive.
Under Philippine law, municipal waters—defined as up to 15 kilometers from the coastline—are reserved primarily for small fishers and local residents.
Yet, these waters have become a battleground where small commercial vessels routinely cross the line. They fish where they shouldn’t, using gear that depletes stocks and damages marine ecosystems.
The result is predictable: dwindling catch, deeper poverty, and growing resentment.
At the heart of the issue is the failure of local governments to enforce zoning rules and protect their own people.
Worse, some LGUs appear complicit.
They either look the other way, issue vague or selective ordinances, or outright allow small commercial operators to access waters meant for subsistence use—especially if the boat owners are politically connected or financially influential.
This is not just an environmental issue. It is an issue of economic justice.
Subsistence fishers are often without the means to go beyond municipal waters. Their paddleboats and non-motorized bancas can only reach so far.
When commercial vessels intrude into their space, there is simply nowhere else to go.
This competition drives what experts now call “fishing down”—a desperate shift to catching smaller, juvenile fish that undermines long-term stock sustainability.
It also fuels illegal and destructive practices such as the use of fine mesh nets and dynamite fishing, as local fishers try to keep up with dwindling returns.
The national government, through the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources (BFAR), must do more than issue guidelines.
It must provide the resources and political backing for enforcement at the local level.
But more importantly, the responsibility lies with LGUs.
They are mandated by the Fisheries Code to delineate municipal waters, zone fishing activities, and protect artisanal fishers.
They must also fund and empower their Bantay Dagat units—not as ceremonial bodies but as active patrol forces.
Transparency is also key.
Fishery ordinances and zoning maps must be made public and accessible to fisherfolk. Encroachments must be recorded and sanctioned. The days of handshake deals and “palusot” politics must end.
In hotspots like Carles, San Dionisio, Nueva Valencia, and Buenavista, pressure is mounting as fishers report more frequent sightings of commercial boats operating just a few kilometers offshore.
These LGUs must be held to account.
This is not simply about who gets to fish where. It is about upholding the law, protecting vulnerable communities, and ensuring that municipal waters serve their intended purpose: to sustain those who have the least, not benefit those who already have more.
The sea should not be a playground for the powerful.
It is a lifeline for the poor. And it is time we defend it as such.
