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Modern Slavery in the High Seas

Filipinos used to comprise the largest number of seamen in international shipping lines, earning millions of dollar remittances for the country. As the Philippine maritime industry is beset by problems of growing unemployment and unstable wages, the dark side of this industry is looming large especially for thousands of Filipino families depending on their sons to deliver them from poverty.

By yna soriano
Bulatlat.com

The Philippine maritime industry has been billed as one of the country’s sunshine industries earning millions of dollars in seamen’s remittances. In fact, the country has been known globally as the top supplier of seafarers.

That may be true in the past.

Today, records of the Philippine Overseas Employment Agency (POEA) showed, less than half of some 400,000 registered seamen are employed in international vessels.

In the inter-island maritime industry, some 12,000 seamen are employed, according to a survey of the Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE). Of this number, however, only 10,000 work full-time.

Now the catch: Of some 40,000 maritime students who graduate yearly, only 4,000 get employed, an official of the United Filipino Seafarers (UFS) said.

All these only mean that tens or probably hundreds of thousands of Filipino seamen are at any period unemployed.

And, Filipino seamen have been overtaken by other nationals in international vessel employment particularly because of cheaper rates.

The aphorism “Travel for free, earn bucks and take women at every point,” is just a romanticized notion about Filipino seafarers, an official of the International Transport Federation of Workers (ITF)-Philippines said.

T.M. Kalaw

T.M. Kalaw in Ermita, Manila just outside the Rizal Park is the favorite spot of thousands of Filipino seamen. These are the ones who never make it to board either an international or domestic vessel docked off Manila Bay just several meters away.

Thousands of them wait for two years until they decide to give up and return to the province.

On the street’s pavements you’ll find among them hundreds of job aspirants fresh from college. One of them is Ian B. Velasco, 22, eldest son of a Filipino domestic in Hong Kong.

Ian had a simple dream when he left Nueva Vizcaya in 1996. After high school, he decided to take Bachelor of Science in Marine Transportation - a popular course among male youths in his hometown. He wanted to be a seaman like his uncle.

But more important, Ian dreamt of improving the lot of his family so that his mother would no longer have to work overseas. Ten years before, his father died. He had to take care of his two brothers and a sister while his mother was away search of greener pastures abroad.

He enrolled at the Maritime Institute of Dr. Ismael Yanga's Francisco Balagtas Colleges in Bocaue, Bulacan. Anywhere, outside his rustic hometown in Nueva Vizcaya, seemed to be "a better place and a better opportunity."

Ian joined some 200 others most of whom came from Northern Luzon, all sharing a wish to become a respectable seafarer someday.

The first impression, however, is not the reality, Ian and his fellow students would find later.

Substandard

After graduation in 1999, Ian joined some 500 seamen who day in and day out, rain or shine crowded the pavements of T.M. Kalaw to look for a job. The pavements, facing the row of various manning agencies and placement companies for both domestic and international shipping industry, became a hang-out for mariner applicants since the 1980s.

So as not to miss the opportunity of being called by the manning agency, Ian slowly learned the ways of the seafarer's life when not at sea. He went to Kalaw everyday waiting for application results, ate with fellow applicants along the dusty roads, listened to daily announcements aired by one seafarers' union. He also listened to strangers' stories and tales of success and frustrations about seafaring.

Everyday, Ian would bring a folder filled with different application documents to Kalaw, including his BS MT diploma, transcript of records, clearance, certificate of good moral character, attendance certificate of various technical trainings, endorsement letter from government maritime authorities, passport, seaman's book, etc.

To support his needs during application, Ian worked at night as a waiter.

But after two years of hard work and patient waiting, Ian failed to board a vessel. Reason: his documents lacked one important detail - the S.O. or special order number designated by the Commission on Higher Education (CHED) to a maritime school that should be reflected in his diploma and other records.

The S.O. number is proof that a maritime school is CHED-accredited and compliant to international standards set by the 1978 (as amended in 1995) International Convention on Standards of Training, Certification and Watch keeping for Seafarers (STCW-78/95). Simply put, the S.O. number would show that the maritime school is “legitimate, competent and competitive.”

Not an isolated case

Josephine V. Victorio, Ian's former English teacher at the Balagtas Colleges who now teaches at a public high school in Bocaue, confirmed Ian's sentiments.

She was with Balagtas Colleges since 1994 until she resigned in 1999 "to let herself grow."

In an interview, Victorio clarified that the S.O. number is only declared in documents upon completion of the four-year course of BS Marine Transportation and other maritime courses.

When Ian graduated at the Balagtas Colleges after three years, Victorio said the graduation rites were "only ceremonial." A graduate, she added, has to apply on his own for a one-year practicum or on-the-job training on board a commercial vessel. The practicum is virtually the guarantee for a job for professional seafarers. So, in terms of competitiveness, a fresh graduate is less favored than those trained.

Balagtas Colleges, Victorio said, does not facilitate or help its graduates after the "ceremonial" rites.

She cited the case of Mark Pangilinan, who graduated cum laude in BS MT in 1996 in the same school. He has not boarded a ship and remains unemployed until now.

This should not be the case, according to CHED. A CHED ruling says that a maritime school should have a shipboard training officer to facilitate embarkation of students.

Victorio agrees with Ian that the maritime department of the Balagtas Colleges was substandard at least in the period when they were there.

An employee of CHED's office of programs and standards who refused to be named disclosed that Ian's case was not an isolated one.

The CHED insider revealed that for a few years, there were about 30 maritime schools in the country found to be substandard but were only closed down last year.

CHED memorandum order No. 8, series of 2001, showed there were only 35 maritime schools nationwide that have complied with the STCW-95 requirements; 50 other schools showed substantial compliance (including Ian's school, Dr. Ismael Yanga's Francisco Balagtas Colleges).

Diploma mills

Known mariners' spokesperson Engineer Nelson P. Ramirez of the Manila-based United Filipino Seafarers (UFS) blames the CHED for not doing its job for the maritime industry. UFS is a labor union of 25,000 seafarers nationwide.

Ramirez’s opinion is shared by Captain Jovito G. Tamayo, director II of the Maritime Safety Office of the government agency Maritime Industry Authority (MARINA).

MARINA has jurisdiction over the development, promotion and regulation of all enterprises engaged in the business of designing, constructing, manufacturing, acquiring, operating, supplying, repairing and maintaining vessels and components, of managing shipping lines, shipyards, drydocks and marine railways.

Ramirez and Tamayo are one in criticizing CHED for not trailing down many substandard maritime schools, for not improving the quality of its accredited schools, and for not regulating the mushrooming of maritime institutions based on the absorbing capacity of the maritime industry.

"Every school year, all maritime schools produce about 40,000 graduates collectively," Ramirez said in an interview. "The rate of yearly employment in the maritime industry is a maximum of 4,000 seafarers since the late 1980s. Saan pupunta ang 36,000 graduates taun-taon? (Where do the 36,000 other graduates go every year?)"

While hundreds stayed along the long lines of applicants in Kalaw, thousands others took the opposite road probably bound home. Some, like Ian, have chosen to stand up and struggle. Many still are frustrated and without any sense of direction.

Wages

At first, it would seem that those who finally land a job in the water transport industry receive wages high above the daily minimum pay which is P220 at present.

But this is not always the case, Amang Labial, secretary general of the advocacy group Worldwide Alliance for the Rights of Migrants (WARM), said.

“An overseas seafarer may receive a big salary in his first contract,” Labial said. “But a typical seaman won’t have a job after that and he usually waits for three years for his next contract. He earns nothing.”

Each month a seafarer aboard an ocean-going vessel (not FOCs or flags of convenience or “floating coffins”), earns about $US450 (P22,950).

In the domestic side, there are at least 1,584 workers or 13.2 percent of the employed in the water transport industry who do not receive the daily minimum wage.

Unstable jobs

IBON Foundation, an independent think tank, says that one of the reasons for irregular employment among most seamen is that there is no standard pay scale in the local shipping industry, based on a recent survey it conducted among local seafarers. A shipping firm pays its workers according to its earning capacity, a condition which has become a source of labor-management irritants. This usually results in high labor turnover as workers transfer from one company to another or to other industries in search of better wages.

Aside from this, harsh labor conditions are also a problem, IBON says.

Overseas Filipino seamen are in the seas most of the time. Particularly those who board FOCs, these seamen are vulnerable to harsh pay and labor conditions.

On the daily experience of thousands of seafarers from developing countries, Peter Morris, chairman of a concerned group, International Commission on Shipping, shares this picture:

“Imagine you are on a ship where you have been working up to 16 hours a day, seven days a week for the past seven months. Your food is poor and tasteless; sometimes, you live on starvation rations.

“Your pay rate is $50 per month, you had been promised more but you have not been able to get it – you do not know if your pay allotment has reached your family or not.

“You may have been ill but the Captain would not allow you to get medical care ashore. Your accommodation is crowded and filthy, there is no hot water and the toilets don’t work properly.

“You may have been beaten, abused, even raped.

“And now, you live in fear because you have asked the union to help collect the wages owed to you. You fear a beating or being blacklisted by the manning agent back home. And fear not making it to the next port…”

This modern slavery scene resembles Spielberg’s film, “Amisthad.” It also reminds you of the “polo,” the forced labor Spanish colonizers ran in the Philippines.

Biggest number of accidents

Filipino seamen also comprise the biggest number of victims in sea accidents.

On the whole, a hundred seafarers die every year in about four or five cases of sinking ships triggered by collision, engine troubles and calamities in high seas. Another 30 lose an arm or leg or die by food poisoning and other accidents while on duty in international vessels. Hundreds others suffer from various ailments. Growing in number are cases of mental disorders such as depression, psychosis and neurosis.

Of the reported cases, 20 percent or an average per year of a little less than 100 ill-fated seafarers in international waters are Filipinos.

Most incidents of deaths, accidents and cases of inhuman working conditions involving Filipino seamen happen at FOCs, says ITF-Philippines, which runs a campaign office in Quezon City.

Substandard

FOC, explains Susan Cueva, executive director of ITF-Secretariat, are substandard ships which have been registered by their owners in countries with low registry requirements on safety, manning, crewing and the like. Most high sea disasters such as sinking and engine troubles in the past five decades involved FOCs, Cueva adds.

FOC, interjects Labial, is “a profit-driven strategy of foreign shipping owners to avoid the costly and stringent rules in some countries during ships survey.”

For instance, a very old vessel may have a reconditioned engine and outdated navigation equipment. Facilities are very poor and safety gadgets are insufficient. Despite the dangers of the ship’s continuous operation, the shipowner refuses to repair his vessel.

Since the registration of such a substandard vessel will be declined by port authorities in its country of origin, the shipowner brings his vessel to countries like Panama, Malta and the Philippines where requirements for registration are not as stringent as in other countries.

Consequently, the substandard vessel sails to the oceans risking the lives of the crew in the name of profit.

Of all the ocean-going vessels in the world, 25 percent are considered FOCs, WARM’s own research shows.

Racial discrimination

Gerry Alonzo, 49, is a seaman for 15 years. A 1976 BS Marine Transportation graduate, he rose into the rank of cargo officer after years of being a mess man in ocean-going vessels.

This reporter found him in the crowd of applicants along T.M. Kalaw Street.

Asked about his unforgettable experience while aboard an international vessel, Alonzo immediately recounted his ordeal about racial discrimination.

Four years ago, he was part of a 30-member crew from different nationalities.

“Although we could not understand each other, we could sense that we were being paid different rates,” he narrates. “Work terms and conditions were different per nationality. We could not air our common grievances because we hardly talked to each other.”

Racial discrimination is inevitable, according to Alonzo. “When one Panamanian called me a ‘pig’ as an insult to Filipinos, my head burned with anger,” he says. “I fought him wildly thinking of nothing but to regain my reputation.”

Alonzo’s story is common in many FOCs, Cueva says. FOCs hiring different nationals has become a trend as a way of discouraging unity and unionism among seamen.

And this is where blacklisting as an anti-union device in the shipping industry comes in.

Blacklisting

There is both “legal” and “illegal” blacklisting of seafarers, the POEA admits.

The POEA comes up with a blacklist of seafarers “as a form of legal sanction if a complaint of breach of discipline is filed against a seafarer with the Adjudication Office or Regional Office.”

Blacklist could be a limited period of suspension or it could be perpetual. Workers who face penalties after final judgment are blacklisted. Included in the list are those disqualified from overseas employment until cleared by the POEA or until their suspension is served or lifted.

WARM official Labial, however, criticizes POEA’s blacklisting saying that those sanctioned are usually workers clamoring for union organizing in a vessel and for collective bargaining agreement, both of which are legitimate.

Illegal blacklisting, on the other hand, appears to be most prevalent, Labial reveals. Manning agents in the Philippines secretly circulate among themselves derogatory remarks and pictures as a retaliatory act against critical seafarers.

Both the Philippine Labor Code and the United Nations International Labor Organziation (ILO) prohibit this practice. ILO’s Convention 179 “prohibits recruitment and placement services from using means, mechanisms or lists intended to prevent or deter seafarers from gaining employment.” Bulatlat.com

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