Muro-ami arrests spotlight rehabilitation failures
By Juan L. Mercado
July 18, 2003
Inquirer News Service - Philippines
Trapped
JOEGIE Baldado, 17, found himself trapped. On one hand was the "devil" of slave labor on an illegal muro-ami fishing boat. "The deep blue sea" of Palawan was on the other.
He leaped overboard. So did two other divers. The three made it to shore.
That was in November 1999. Since then, Baldado charged the Cebu-based ABS Fishing & Development Corp. with child abuse.
Last week, Judge Nelia Yap Fernandez of the Palawan regional trial court ordered three ABS officials arrested for allegedly fracturing the law (Republic Act No. 7610), which bans child labor.
The accused belong to the politically connected Abines family of Cebu: ex-provincial board member Apolonio, former congressman Crisologo, and their sister, Encarnacion Abines-Go.
Earlier, the Department of Justice spiked a provincial prosecutor's ruling that shrugged off Baldado's complaint: that 400 persons were recruited by ABS for muro-ami fishing. Unpaid except for skimpy advances, they'd be shoved below deck when the occasional Coast Guard patrol boat sailed by.
ABS no longer uses children as muro-ami divers, treasurer Go claims. The firm now operates the new pa-aling method. ABS also contracts for hands to operate its boats.
Banned in 1989, muro-ami has divers (usually under 15 years of age) drop noisy scare lines-and drive fish toward nets. It's a "poverty-generating technology" anchored on "credit bondage" of underage divers, an earlier United Nations study notes. Just 50 muro-ami divers could damage 17 square meters per hectare of vital coral reef.
The arrests revived interest in an International Labor Organization study on why muro-ami been allowed to go on.
"Slapstick Development and Irony Among Veteran Muro Ami Fisherfolk of Southern Cebu" provides part of the answer. San Carlos University published the study in its quarterly: Culture & Society.
Professors Harold Olofson and Bernie Canizares, and Farah de Jose studied how 29 associations, with 154 muro-ami families in "Abines Country," fared under a national program called "LEADS" (Livelihood Enhancement for Agricultural Development).
"Meant to establish livelihoods to replace muro-ami expeditions, (LEADS) instead drove many of the fisherfolk and their sons into a 'new' but still environmentally destructive brand of muro-ami," the study found.
Alternative projects that LEADS funded ranged from soap making, goat and pig raising, fish shelters, cattle breeding and seaweed farming to nearshore technologies. Most failed. Why?
The projects were "piecemeal, disconnected, aimless philosophically unguided injection of cash into the countryside," the report points. Cooperatives were hurriedly organized. Government officials imposed projects. Participation of fisherfolk was curbed.
"Even environmental realities of southern Cebu, like habagat winds and drought were ignored."
"Principles of rural development, already known for many years, seem to have been systematically ignored," Olofson and his colleagues pointed out. "Did they proceed knowing full well the likelihood of failure?"
Corruption
There were successful projects, of course. In Oslob, a soap-making project increased incomes. So did pig raising in Samboan where the municipal agriculture officer "stuck his neck out" to protest dictation.
The word "corruption" does not appear in the USC report. But it documents instances.
Money for a fish shelter disappeared, only to reappear for cattle breeding. That's "a strange thing to offer life-long fisherfolk" in an area short of fodder.
An official insisted on pig raising, disguising his consultancy with a large-scale piggery farm. In Boljoon, the project chair spent 5,000 pesos to entertain visiting officials.
Oslob's mayor, an Abines, secured a 150,000-peso loan supposedly to help 21 muro-ami youths (some below 14). "The nominal chair was the mayor's houseboy," the study found.
"Titi Emin (Abines) knows and decides all association activities," including setting up a fish net and corrals during the habagat. Moonson waves promptly flattened the corrals.
"Amortization is not met due to strong waves, cages are always destroyed, fish catch is low," the mayor reported.
This was "misleading," the study countered. "The accurate report should read: Muro-ami mayor's patronage torpedoed youth project. Fishing labor from this town likely to be abundant."
Interest charged by LEADS proved more than that imposed by banks. It took five months to process loans. "The glimmer of hope died in our hearts," one muro-ami family said.
The agriculture department wouldn't even answer inquiries from fisherfolk. Its three-day seminars were inadequate. "Whatever happened to extension" of technical support? the study asks.
"The only thing that holds us together is the loan we have to repay," the members grumbled.
The membership lists crumbled. So did savings for investment and repayment. Only one association reported an increase of members; it dwindled in others. One scraped up 5,000 pesos to reinvest.
Partial repayments signaled coming defaults by the rest.
"Members hopelessly came to see their activities simply as an exercise on learning how to repay a loan," the study added.
"My members are better off without the project," a leader explains. "Left with debt, we must prioritize repayment below our immediate needs and the costs of sending our children to school. Can we be sent to prison if we fail to repay our loans?"
Since then, some members turned to coastal fishing. Desperately poor, others reenlisted for muro-ami fishing trips.
Many are "lifelong debt holders, trapped in bondage to the Abines recruiting organization," the USC study noted. "As honorable people, they felt honor-bound to make good on their repayments ... " The recruiting company was poised to take advantage of this.
Inept government's well-intentioned program dealt "slapstick blows to muro-ami associational bodies ... A development disaster had been visited on the land," the report adds.
More Joegie Baldados are poised to leap overboard.
By Juan L. Mercado
July 18, 2003
Inquirer News Service - Philippines
Trapped
JOEGIE Baldado, 17, found himself trapped. On one hand was the "devil" of slave labor on an illegal muro-ami fishing boat. "The deep blue sea" of Palawan was on the other.
He leaped overboard. So did two other divers. The three made it to shore.
That was in November 1999. Since then, Baldado charged the Cebu-based ABS Fishing & Development Corp. with child abuse.
Last week, Judge Nelia Yap Fernandez of the Palawan regional trial court ordered three ABS officials arrested for allegedly fracturing the law (Republic Act No. 7610), which bans child labor.
The accused belong to the politically connected Abines family of Cebu: ex-provincial board member Apolonio, former congressman Crisologo, and their sister, Encarnacion Abines-Go.
Earlier, the Department of Justice spiked a provincial prosecutor's ruling that shrugged off Baldado's complaint: that 400 persons were recruited by ABS for muro-ami fishing. Unpaid except for skimpy advances, they'd be shoved below deck when the occasional Coast Guard patrol boat sailed by.
ABS no longer uses children as muro-ami divers, treasurer Go claims. The firm now operates the new pa-aling method. ABS also contracts for hands to operate its boats.
Banned in 1989, muro-ami has divers (usually under 15 years of age) drop noisy scare lines-and drive fish toward nets. It's a "poverty-generating technology" anchored on "credit bondage" of underage divers, an earlier United Nations study notes. Just 50 muro-ami divers could damage 17 square meters per hectare of vital coral reef.
The arrests revived interest in an International Labor Organization study on why muro-ami been allowed to go on.
"Slapstick Development and Irony Among Veteran Muro Ami Fisherfolk of Southern Cebu" provides part of the answer. San Carlos University published the study in its quarterly: Culture & Society.
Professors Harold Olofson and Bernie Canizares, and Farah de Jose studied how 29 associations, with 154 muro-ami families in "Abines Country," fared under a national program called "LEADS" (Livelihood Enhancement for Agricultural Development).
"Meant to establish livelihoods to replace muro-ami expeditions, (LEADS) instead drove many of the fisherfolk and their sons into a 'new' but still environmentally destructive brand of muro-ami," the study found.
Alternative projects that LEADS funded ranged from soap making, goat and pig raising, fish shelters, cattle breeding and seaweed farming to nearshore technologies. Most failed. Why?
The projects were "piecemeal, disconnected, aimless philosophically unguided injection of cash into the countryside," the report points. Cooperatives were hurriedly organized. Government officials imposed projects. Participation of fisherfolk was curbed.
"Even environmental realities of southern Cebu, like habagat winds and drought were ignored."
"Principles of rural development, already known for many years, seem to have been systematically ignored," Olofson and his colleagues pointed out. "Did they proceed knowing full well the likelihood of failure?"
Corruption
There were successful projects, of course. In Oslob, a soap-making project increased incomes. So did pig raising in Samboan where the municipal agriculture officer "stuck his neck out" to protest dictation.
The word "corruption" does not appear in the USC report. But it documents instances.
Money for a fish shelter disappeared, only to reappear for cattle breeding. That's "a strange thing to offer life-long fisherfolk" in an area short of fodder.
An official insisted on pig raising, disguising his consultancy with a large-scale piggery farm. In Boljoon, the project chair spent 5,000 pesos to entertain visiting officials.
Oslob's mayor, an Abines, secured a 150,000-peso loan supposedly to help 21 muro-ami youths (some below 14). "The nominal chair was the mayor's houseboy," the study found.
"Titi Emin (Abines) knows and decides all association activities," including setting up a fish net and corrals during the habagat. Moonson waves promptly flattened the corrals.
"Amortization is not met due to strong waves, cages are always destroyed, fish catch is low," the mayor reported.
This was "misleading," the study countered. "The accurate report should read: Muro-ami mayor's patronage torpedoed youth project. Fishing labor from this town likely to be abundant."
Interest charged by LEADS proved more than that imposed by banks. It took five months to process loans. "The glimmer of hope died in our hearts," one muro-ami family said.
The agriculture department wouldn't even answer inquiries from fisherfolk. Its three-day seminars were inadequate. "Whatever happened to extension" of technical support? the study asks.
"The only thing that holds us together is the loan we have to repay," the members grumbled.
The membership lists crumbled. So did savings for investment and repayment. Only one association reported an increase of members; it dwindled in others. One scraped up 5,000 pesos to reinvest.
Partial repayments signaled coming defaults by the rest.
"Members hopelessly came to see their activities simply as an exercise on learning how to repay a loan," the study added.
"My members are better off without the project," a leader explains. "Left with debt, we must prioritize repayment below our immediate needs and the costs of sending our children to school. Can we be sent to prison if we fail to repay our loans?"
Since then, some members turned to coastal fishing. Desperately poor, others reenlisted for muro-ami fishing trips.
Many are "lifelong debt holders, trapped in bondage to the Abines recruiting organization," the USC study noted. "As honorable people, they felt honor-bound to make good on their repayments ... " The recruiting company was poised to take advantage of this.
Inept government's well-intentioned program dealt "slapstick blows to muro-ami associational bodies ... A development disaster had been visited on the land," the report adds.
More Joegie Baldados are poised to leap overboard.
