Voices from the Sea: Bridging Knowledge and Community

Ever since I came to Iligan City, I’ve lost count of how many times people have asked me where I’m from and every time I say General Santos City, it’s as if their minds unconsciously and automatically play a very fast game of This or That, and they almost always ask about either of the two options: Pacquiao… or the fishing industry.


When our rich waters are mentioned, when the giant tunas of GenSan are celebrated, when I get to share how delicious our seafood is—I can’t help but feel a deep sense of pride.


Gensan is a microcosm—its bustling fishing industry and diverse population mirror the broader social, economic, and cultural currents of the Philippines. If I had to list a hundred people who came to the Tuna Capital of the country in search of better opportunities, I could probably do it in under an hour. My parents would be at the very top of that list. And if I made another list of those whose lives were transformed by GenSan’s fishing industry, my parents would still hold the first spot.


The very first bricks my parents laid to build a life for us came from the waters—transforming the bounty of the sea into a livelihood that kept families like ours afloat. Fishing, for us Henerals, is a rhythm. It is a way of life.


To outsiders, the sea’s abundance may seem endless. But those who live by it know the fragile truth.


Sir Joseph, a neighbor and fisherman for 30 years, recalls a stark contrast between today’s waters and those of the ’80s and ’90s. Where once a bountiful catch was possible in nearby barangays using handcrafted traps and nets, fishermen now must travel farther—sometimes to international waters—risking more for smaller hauls.


He spoke of lukot, the egg mass of a marine mollusk called sea hares that was once abundant in GenSan. “...daghan kaayo na. Hantod sa nagka-canning, nahimo nang yamog-yamog,” he said. Yamog-yamog is a thin, shimmering layer of tiny fish at the water’s surface. Normally, sea hare egg masses (lukot) release larvae that disperse naturally. But now, environmental stress prevents proper growth. Instead, the eggs hatch into unusually dense layers of juvenile fish at the surface, forming the yamog-yamog pattern: an indicator of degraded marine ecosystems, a negative ecological shift.


Research on Philippine aquatic ecosystems shows significantly reduced fish species richness due to overfishing, siltation, pollution, and habitat degradation. Many areas now report smaller fish sizes, shrinking populations, and increasing stress from warming seas and nutrient runoff. A preliminary report by the Philippine Statistics Authority (PSA) shows a 5% decline in fisheries output in 2024. Small-scale fisheries surveys in Davao Gulf (Macusi et al., 2021) and Honda Bay (Vicente, Mecha, Jontila, et al., 2024) confirm that environmental pressures are reducing catch volumes, destabilizing incomes, and threatening food security.


Faced with this crisis, what measures should we actually take? Should canning and processing plants be shut down? Should blanket fishing bans be imposed? Should fishermen be relocated from crowded or environmentally sensitive coastal areas? That’s three NOs for you.


When we talk about environmental awareness and addressing environmental crises, we often default to rapid solutions where local realities are overlooked in the process. We tend to forget that behind every statistic are human stories that are even more urgent: families that go hungry when the nets come up empty; children who miss school to help make ends meet. The economics of fishing is inseparable from the lives it sustains—each fish caught is both income and survival.


Natural sciences warn us of the consequences—declining biodiversity, collapsing fisheries, and deteriorating water quality. But numbers alone cannot explain why communities act as they do or why these problems persist. This is where the social sciences become indispensable: they reveal the pressures fishermen face—poverty, market forces, policy gaps, and limited government support.


And this pattern extends far beyond fishermen. Filipino workers whose livelihoods depend on healthy ecosystems and climate stability—farmers, plantation workers, dive guides, tour operators, street vendors, tricycle drivers, and waste pickers—are all heavily affected by environmental degradation and weak policy integration, and their stories remind us that environmental issues are also social issues.


As we celebrate National Environmental Awareness Month, it’s time we move forward. It’s time we take a leap. We must stop viewing these issues as purely ecological problems. We can't rely solely on scientific findings. In this big venn diagram, there’s an even larger intersection between natural and social sciences that we can no longer afford to ignore.


As a nation built on the labor of Filipino workers—the backbone of our economy—their suffering becomes the suffering of entire industries. And when they suffer, we suffer with them.


Sustainable solutions require bridging natural and social sciences. The Philippine government often falls short in this regard, which is a major reason why many policies collapse during implementation. It is crucial to design interventions that not only consider ecological facts but also integrate grassroots conditions. Scientific findings from ecological assessments of fisheries, watersheds, soil quality, and climate patterns must be paired with participatory management, where farmers, fishermen, and local communities help interpret the data and shape policy decisions. Sustainable fishing and farming technologies should be introduced and validated not only through natural sciences but also through social science research to ensure they are culturally acceptable, economically feasible, and supported by community norms. Social protection for climate-vulnerable workers must be strengthened to provide the most fragile communities with reliable safety nets. Environmental governance should likewise be reinforced: scientific monitoring can guide fishing quotas, watershed rehabilitation, and pollution control, while social mechanisms such as local policy dialogues, inclusive consultations, and localized environmental education ensure that these measures are understood, adapted, and sustained at the community level.


Taking into account human behavior, community priorities, and social structures goes hand in hand with understanding ecological dynamics, biophysical conditions, and market incentives in crafting interventions that work—not just for the environment, but for the people whose very lives depend on it.



Written by Pia Natalie Daymiel
Proofread by John Vincent Balustre