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IT’S a
tale of almost apocalyptic proportions, the kind that
brings flashbacks of scenes of the plagues from The Ten
Commandments; or of raw footage of food riots in eras
past. Yet, the same scenario—of sudden spikes in prices
of life-saving staples sparking unrest— is happening all
across the globe, and sending shivers down the
collective spine of rich and poor countries alike, so
much so that suddenly, the meaning of “globalization”
seems to have taken on a new, dark meaning.
The
tragic thing about this “sudden” crisis—the gods of
international finance devoted much of their spring
meetings to issuing calls, parallel with United Nations
agencies, for more food and subsidies for the vulnerable
countries, especially in Africa—is that it was not
something that developed overnight.
The
seeds of this tragic state of things were planted
decades before, and nourished by the greed of both the
rich countries and the elites of poor ones; and,
completing the toxic cocktail, the apathy and
woodheadedness of policymakers and leaders who should
have known better, or at least listened to expert,
independent advice, but did not.
That
global pattern is mirrored quite eloquently in the
Philippines. Billions of unexplained disbursements for
ambitious modernization plans later, the Philippines has
not quite upgraded its agricultural infrastructure and
framework.
The
Agriculture and Fisheries Modernization Act of 1997 is
on its second extension, and the government walks around
the detritus of farm-related scams past: the fertilizer
scam of Joc-joc Bolante, the swine scam of Quedancor and
the latest revelation—it’s not a “scam” per se but a
public rip-off just the same—the “loss” of millions of
hectares of irrigated (take note, irrigated, which
aggravates the loss) farmlands through the past several
years, either to conversion or sheer neglect by local
governments and lack of interest by a farm sector
dismayed by the State’s apathy.
While
all this systematic neglect and loss was taking place,
certain grains traders were apparently making a killing
as the country went from rice exporter to marginal
importer to the world’s biggest importer of rice: quite
a feat, for one that trained most of the top
agriculturists of Southeast Asia and hosts the
International Rice Research Institute.
We take
a leaf from a
searing news feature
by correspondents Carlos Marquez Jr. and Jonathan Mayuga
in this
same issue: “As the virtual crisis in cheap rice
continues and the government scrambles to find
solutions, they appear unable to see what is happening
in the rice farms—continued importation and low
farm-gate prices have forced a lot of small farmers to
sell their farms that have now been turned by the buyers
into rice mills, warehouses, agricultural input stores
and farm equipment-supply stores, as well as auto-repair
shops and sundry other businesses.
“These
transformed rice lands now coexist side by side,
especially along roads, with steadily shrinking farming
areas.
“The
small farmers are confused when they see all these
developments and then hear the government proclaim its
accomplishment reports on land reform and agricultural
production. The picture goes even hazier as these
farmers line up for their day’s share of 1 kilogram of
the subsidized rice, now a mandatory part of their daily
life.”
The
context for the story is set in Nueva Ecija, heart of
Luzon’s once-vaunted “rice granary.” These days, the
correspondents write: “Most of the available 300,000
hectares of rice lands in this province, still one of
the leading sources of the staple, are now occupied by
rice traders. The areas also continue to get smaller
because aside from being made rice-trading sites, they
are converted to subdivisions, commercial and leisure
centers.
“The
National Irrigation Administration admitted that what
used to be 102,000 ha of farms served by the Pantabangan
Dam in Central Luzon some years ago is now only 89,000
ha.”
Most of
the former agrarian-reform beneficiaries, from Marcos’s
time, have given up and sold their lands; some took on
jobs like driving tricycles, or managing small
enterprises funded by relatives who have sought jobs
abroad as overseas Filipino worker.
Farther
north, in the fabled rice terraces of Ifugao, the story
has frayed from retelling: fewer offspring of farming
families are still at it, leaving so much farmland
abandoned, the heroic efforts of some groups to revive
it notwithstanding.
Everywhere the lament is the same: farming could be made
more profitable again if the government would just
help—more important, helped the right people, not the
commercial traders and hoarders with friends in high
places.
“It
should be made more profitable as millions of Filipino
families depend on it for food. Production, storage and
processing, value-adding and marketing and distribution
should be improved,” said Schubert Ciencia, manager of
the Philippine Rural Reconstruction Movement.
“If they
want to return to farming, they should [undergo] some
retraining and get acquainted with the global
rice-economic trends,” according to one farm-cooperative
consultant.
Meanwhile, as the countryside withers from the heat and
the misery spawned by human greed and folly, the
ordinary folk in the cities have it bad, as well, lining
up under the sun in order to buy a few kilos of
state-subsidized rice, which costs P18.25 per kilo or
half the cost of other commercial rice varieties.
Even if
they wanted to look for substitutes, that’s problematic
as well: bread prices have been rising and will keep
rising; corn is as expensive, even more so than rice in
some areas, and not as filling. And meat, chicken and
pork products, already a luxury before, are now even
more expensive.
When the
whole “crisis” began, the government kept saying there’s
enough supply of rice. Of course. That’s the same
situation of other food staples worldwide: on a global
scale, there should, strictly speaking, be enough food
for everybody. But decades of allowing trade imbalances,
farm neglect in poor countries where agriculture held so
much promise, the irrational rush to transforming
croplands for biofuels and, of course, corruption, big-
and small-time, have taken their toll on the state of
the world’s food security.
In the
’80s the most prescient scientists and experts had
warned that wars over water and food and energy will be
more frequent. Maybe a few people heeded those warnings
but, as expected, most people turned their backs on the
“inconvenient truth.” Until it spun around and swung
everyone to the ground.
This
crisis isn’t unexpected; definitely, won’t be shortlived.
Certainly, it’s as sustainable as the greed that spawned
it. |
