Editors’ Note: This piece was originally posted as Part 3 of a 3-part series on the author’s FB page on 21 October 2025. It was subsequently published under his “Sisay Kita?” column in the Catanduanes Tribune, 22 October 2025 issue. This series coincides with the commemoration of the 80th founding anniversary of Catanduanes as a province on 26 October 2025. It is based on his recent study on Catanduanes during the first decade and a half under American rule, and on the Philippine Commission Reports, a set of thirteen volumes of documents pertaining to the conduct of the US colonial government in the Philippine Islands.
MAOGMANG IKA-80 ANIBERSARYO PROBINSIYANG CATANDUANES!
“Arog kaini sinda kaidto, pan-o man daw kita ngonian?”
In the first two parts, we discussed how Catanduanes was represented in the Philippine Commission Reports, reflecting how the insular homeland of our affections figured out in the entire scheme of the American colonial project in the Philippines. In Part 2 particularly, we focused on the 1908 annual report by Felipe O. Usero, the lieutenant governor of Catanduanes subprovince. The report provided a candid picture of Catandunganon society during the first decade of the 20th century. It takes particular significance because it conveyed the aspirations and struggles of a people, the Catandunganons, this time under the leadership of locals and facing the imperatives of fending for themselves as a distinct political community, a subprovince. In four decades hence, they would be granted full independent provincehood in October 26, 1945.
At present, how are we doing compared to 117 years ago: Arog kaini sinda kaidto, pan-o man daw kita ngonian? Surely, we had gone a long way. Somebody from the 1900s would not recognize Catanduanes Beloved if transported to our present time, with the exception of the outline of the mountains. Surely, the Kagmasoso would have appeared as voluptuous then as it does now. But everything else would be strange, especially the built environment. Even the so-called century tree (molave) fronting the JMA memorial statue wouldn’t have been there yet. It was planted only in the mid-1930s. The roads, including the main thoroughfares would be of dirt, littered with carabao and horse dung. The boulevard along the shores of Virac poblacion would be a wilderness of pandan and daraynay favorite not of joggers but of relievers of the “call of nature.” In this third part, we dwell on the things that may have stayed on, albeit those not easily perceived as unchanged having been glossed over by layers of new appearances. They may be different now in nuances but essentially the same as it was over a century ago. We shall limit only on two aspects, the socio-political and the economic, which anyway are closely intertwined.
The socio-political
Then as now, it would be quite accurate to characterize Catanduanes as a peaceful place, the people as peace-loving. Catandunganons had never been disposed to extremism. In the reports of the Philippine Commission, this point had been repeatedly underscored, the people’s being uncomplaining, even in most difficult situations. Indeed, it is construed as a collective virtue. Related to this character is their legendary resilience, nurtured it appears by the harsh geographic conditions the Catandunganons have to deal with: the combination of insular isolation, geographic ruggedness and constant exposure to typhoons. In one report, the governor of Albay was truly impressed at how the people were able to rebuild their lives on their own without help from government after the April 1905 typhoon that brought so much devastation.
When it comes to politics, however, the idyll of a peaceful and harmonious people cannot hold so consistently and smoothly. There will always be dynamics in the aspect of power relations. It especially manifested when faced with the prospect of subprovincehood when island-wide positions of authority were up for grabs by the local elite. As already intimated in Part 1, the north-south divide soon enough came into play. Whether Catandunganons admit it or not, this is an enduring character of Catanduanes society, the norte-sur dynamics of socio-political configuration. The history of political alignment in Catanduanes since the days of the subprovince in 1905 bears this out, all the way to independent provincehood in 1945 and up to the present. Alfonso Usero of the north became the first elected governor in 1947 but was immediately wrestled out by Juan Alberto of the south whose political dynasty dominated through the martial law years, but only by accommodating a taga-norte as vice governor. Then came the alternating series of north-south stalwarts after EDSA people power restoration of electoral politics in1987.
The competition never came to destructive proportions though, not with the gentle people of Catanduanes. Indeed, the animosity was always in tamed proportions and had considerably toned down for the last fifty years. But it is liable to articulate on certain occasions. In the recent devastation of typhoon Pepito, there had been a bout of jealous intrigues between north and south as regards the distribution of relief goods reenacted by netizens in social media platforms.
As regards the trademark of Catanduanes electoral politics, vote-buying that is, do we have any sense that it is as old as the days of subprovincehood circa 1905? There is no direct indication of this in the Philippine Commission reports. For one thing the lieutenant governor by the provision of Act 1331 was appointed by the governor general. However, municipal presidents were elected at-large. In my earlier study on vote-buying in Virac (2018), I found that the earliest form of vote-buying was what I called “bahog” modality which was treating voters to a punsyon (feast) to influence their voting preferences. I surmised that this approach was an age-old practice of the local “big man” to demonstrate and renew his hegemony, an exercise of patronage. The form evolved into the current distribution of goodies in cash or in kind, but still essentially a patronage mechanism carried over to the electoral process.
Later on, the selection of the lieutenant governor was submitted to the electorate. I am yet to determine the details of this historical transition, but we stumbled upon records of a legal case filed in 1923 regarding the conduct of election for top positions for the subprovince. With the lieutenant governor as the top patron of the subprovince, patronage strategy such as vote-buying of the feasting mode must have been certainly practiced. The giving of cash/in kind handouts would only be pioneered in the 1950s by the Albertos. In any case, then as it is now Catanduanes is very much in the mold of patronage politics. Local governance is conducted on the framework of patron-client dependency.
The economy
At first glance, there seems to be no comparison between the economy of Catanduanes circa 1905 and 2025. They are worlds apart. In the first place, by sheer number of people being supported by the respective economies, the difference is just so huge: there are some six times more people now as it was then. In the second place, the sort of lifestyles generated by such economies are so far removed from each other. Advanced technology has so raised the bar in terms of quantity and quality of living in all aspects: food, clothing, shelter, communication, transportation, information, health, and entertainment. Contemporary denizens are enjoying premiums never ever dreamt of in 1905.
But certain fundamental things about the economy remained unchanged after more than a century. Then as it is now, Catandunganon economy is dominated by one crop, the abaca, and by the sort of capitalist system of production and distribution of this commodity that creates gross inequality among stakeholders. Currently, we celebrate the preeminence of said commodity through an extravagant Abaca Festival hinged on Catanduanes as “abaca capital of the Philippines.” But what exactly is it that we bother with so much pomp and circumstance to celebrate?
The so-called abaca bonanza came about during the latter half of the Spanish regime when hemp became the premier product of the Philippines, claiming some 40 % of its exports. During the height of the hemp boom, Albay, according to some estimates, became the richest province in the islands. Catanduanes surely must have benefitted from this. Historians would attribute to this relative opulence of the Bikolanos as among the reasons why they were not so keen in supporting the Revolution of 1898: a flourishing people will not be inclined to rebel.
When the Americans came at the turn of the century, the abaca boom had reached peak and started to decline. Bikol region reverted back to economic slouch. It was, according to the historian Norman Owen, a case of “prosperity without progress.” While the abaca production in the region became commercialized and hooked to a lucrative international market, there was failure to put up “developmental foundations” whereby gains from the abaca industry could have been used to build up the system that can sustain steady growth of the broad economy. Owen added that such is the typical fate of third world political economies that developed too much dependency on the first world.
Catanduanes could have only been so vulnerable to the vagaries of the abaca industry. In a 1906 report of the governor of Albay, Catanduanes was described as “one grand late (plantation) of hemp of the best quality” indicating the expanse of abaca croppings in the island. Its rugged and mountainous topography offered little space for regular agricultural production except for abaca that thrived on sloppy mountain sides. There wasn’t much that the people could cultivate on a large commercial scale. Because of this, the governor intimated that they received 1,500 applications for homestead permits aimed at converting forested areas for abaca cultivation. In short, Catanduanes had become too economically dependent on one agricultural product.
By Usero’s account, the falling prices of abaca started in about 1906, registering up to 30% fallout. In a court record (People of the Philippine Islands vs. Eustaquio Joson et al.) we get a strong hint on the economic (ill) health of Catandunes. The complainant (Jose Vera et al.) accused the defendants of broadcasting malicious attribution of the drop in abaca prices and spikes in that of rice to the plaintiff who were incumbent top officials of the subprovince. So, the abaca crisis was still raging on in the 1920s.
What or who was responsible? Usero pointed fingers on the trade monopoly of three big business enterprises in the island whose principals were based in the mainland, and the Chinese as a second layer of trade monopolists, all of whom Usero labelled “foreigners.” Purportedly, the low prices were due to their profiteering. What is interesting about the blaming game was how Joson et al., political rivals of the stalwarts from the north (note: Usero married to the Vera family) accused the top local officials as the ones responsible. There was this round-about direction of blame.
At present, we see the continuing downward spiral of the abaca industry, arguably getting worse than ever, and the same blaming game apparently getting more complicated. But there are three things to remind ourselves about this matter. Firstly, the abaca industry has always been dependent on the world market. Mainly used in the world stage for cordage during the commodity’s heyday, substitution with much cheaper synthetic materials have since obliterated demand. The problem was that Catanduanes was not able to find substitute for abaca as major product; other abaca-producing localities had since moved on to other economic sources. That might have worked in favour of Catanduanes as the remaining major supplier, for which we have gained the title “abaca capital of the Philippines” (tayo na lang kasi naiwan). But the huge drop in demand apparently canceled out the comparative advantage effect. The only way to address this is to create new demand by developing new high value finished products for abaca. But that is quite a tall order for a floundering industry.
Secondly, our economy, like the rest of the country, is capitalist. Trade and much else in the system is dictated upon by a small capitalist class. It is a system that hugely rewards those who control capital (the rich). In the abaca industry, past and present, traders and big landowners have always been the ones who gain the most profits. The small farmers and farm workers have always been disadvantaged, especially in an industry that is in crisis. Can this be reversed in favour of the small ones, ang kasaradayan? Yes, but only in two ways. One is to cooperativize the industry, that is bring the farmers together as a production and distribution collective so that they become free of control by the profiteering capitalists. But cooperatives in the Philippines are famously a failure; the Filipinos seem not to be disposed to it. Another way is to change the economic system altogether to become socialist where the government takes control of production and distribution. Ay sus ginoo that would need no less than a revolution!
Which brings me back to Usero’s report in 1908. He practically blamed the sad economic plight of the Catandunganons to “foreigners”: big business from the mainland, and the Chinese. It smacks of insular bigotry of blaming external forces for internal strife: the culprit is always the dayo. In Catanduanes, the aswang is always from some exotic province, Samar or else Capiz, but never a native local. But really, this animosity is about the competition between the agriculturists and the traders, the tillers and the middlemen. The home-grown elite mostly derived their wealth from the yield of the land. Usero himself was a landowner who rented out his land to tenants. This traditional elite, who did not have the acumen for commerce, were jealous of the traders who were making more money, and who typically were migrants. In this intramural among sub-classes of the elite, the Chinese were the favourite scapegoats. They were always the meek migrants visibly of another race and culture and were on the receiving end of brown supremacist racism in the Philippines. So, the natives called them names (tulo-laway, bejo, singkit) even as they were making more money.
This kind of racist intramural was recently re-enacted in Catanduanes during the 2025 local elections. As a campaign strategy, an electoral challenger has repackaged the Sino-descent ruling political siblings as part of a sinister “Chinese invasion” of the province, a narrative that rode along the highly emotional issue on the Chinese possession of the West Philippine Sea. And curiously, such narrative was conflated with another campaign promise: to improve the lot of the abacaleros or the abaca farmers whose woes of low buying price of hemp is purportedly caused by these same Chinese culprits. If elected, so the propaganda went, the new local government will work to raise the prices of abaca and make life better for the majority of Catandunganons. Indeed, the current provincial leadership won on a platform of liberation no less from “foreign control.”
What we are saying here is that this political formulary is quite old, carried over from more than a century ago. We are still quite in the same fix. What is disturbing here is the racist slant made to camouflage the real cause: the capitalist political economy.
Which brings us to the last point: is there much promise for the local government to change the plight of the abacaleros by raising buying price of abaca from the producers? We have seen such attempts during the incumbency of Manay Cely Wong. Reportedly, she had put up her own abaca trading outfit, not as governor but as a capitalist herself. The strategy was to personally subsidize higher abaca pricing. But that cannot possibly be feasible in the long-term. We must be reminded that the government cannot use its resources to put up business enterprises. For another thing: in a capitalist system, government cannot legislate prices. It is rather determined by another sort of law: the law of supply and demand. The campaign promise made by the sitting sovereign at the provincial capitol is such a tall order, to put it lightly. According to urban legend, Ramon Magsaysay wanted to amend the law of supply and demand. Somebody with a PhD cannot possibly try the same trick. But then, malay natin?
Meanwhile, the Happy Islands (to include Panay, Palumbanes, Parongpong and Calabaguio) will continue celebrating the Abaca Festival whose opulence and extravagance is getting grander in inverse proportion to the health of the abaca industry. On that cautious and sober, indeed ironic note, let us observe and celebrate our independent provincehood comes October 26, 2025. HAPPY 80th FOUNDATION DAY!
The header features a drone shot of the picturesque Binurong Point in Baras, Catanduanes (photo: Nomadic Experiences blog spot)
About the author
RAMON FELIPE SARMIENTO, PhD is Associate Professor V at the College of Humanities and Social Sciences in CatSU. He was co-convenor of the 9th PASCHR International Conference held early this year. He is also an active cultural worker advocating Catandunganon heritage. He studied at the Catanduanes State College, Asian Social Institute and the University of the Philippines in Diliman.