THE PROPOSED 1.2-kilometer Boracay bridge, intended to connect the mainland town of Malay, Aklan to Boracay Island, has ignited a passionate debate. The P8-billion project promises enhanced connectivity, improved tourism infrastructure, and solutions to Boracay’s overcrowding issues. However, beneath the glimmering prospect of economic growth lies a troubling question: at what cost?
For 500 boatmen and 40 boat owners who ferry passengers between Boracay and Caticlan, the bridge is an existential threat to their livelihoods. These men and women represent a community whose lives are intricately tied to the island’s maritime traditions. Their efforts have sustained Boracay’s tourism for decades, yet they now face the grim reality of redundancy.
Boat operators have already borne the brunt of government modernization policies. In compliance with mandates to phase out wooden-hulled boats, the Caticlan Boracay Transport Multi-Purpose Cooperative (CBTMPC) invested nearly P500 million in fiberglass vessels, costing each owner up to P10 million. This substantial financial burden, taken on in good faith to modernize and secure their future, may now prove futile if the bridge renders their services obsolete.
It’s impossible to miss the irony here. On one hand, the government pushed modernization to protect jobs and the environment; on the other, it now considers a project that could undo these efforts. CBTMPC’s outstanding debts show the precarious financial situation of the cooperative. How can these hardworking individuals, who followed the rules and invested heavily, be expected to recover from such a double blow?
Supporters argue that the bridge will not only boost tourism but also alleviate the environmental pressures caused by overcrowding and overuse of Boracay’s facilities. These are valid points, particularly as the island continues to grapple with its carrying capacity. Yet, should progress come at the expense of an entire sector’s livelihood? Must the path to development always sacrifice the very people who helped pave it?
The socioeconomic repercussions extend beyond the boatmen. Local economies dependent on sea transport could falter, while the envisioned gains from increased mainland accommodations remain uncertain. The provincial government has already voiced opposition, citing the bridge’s potential violation of the “one entry/exit policy” designed to protect Boracay’s fragile ecosystem. This raises another question: has enough consultation been conducted with stakeholders, or are their voices being drowned out by the clamor for progress?
Development and livelihood need not be mutually exclusive. Before the bridge project moves forward, the government must ensure that affected communities are not left behind. Livelihood displacement cannot be treated as collateral damage in the pursuit of economic growth. Proper consultations, equitable compensation, and sustainable alternatives for the boatmen must be prioritized.
This concern is not unique to Boracay; it reflects a larger dilemma faced by many communities across the Philippines: how to balance modernization with the preservation of traditional livelihoods. The Boracay bridge may symbolize progress, but unless it is approached with empathy and inclusivity, it risks becoming a monument to inequity.
The question remains: is this bridge a gateway to opportunity or a harbinger of loss? The answer will depend on whether the government and private proponents choose to prioritize people alongside progress. For development to be truly meaningful, it must uplift every stakeholder, leaving no one behind in its wake.
