Tragedy and hope: The story of coconut

The coconut industry is a vital economic sector that will need rejuvenation if we are to have economic progress in our country. We have 2.5 million coconut farmers and 3.11 million hectares of land planted with 347 million coconut trees. In a recent conversation with former Public Works secretary Rogelio “Babes” Singson, he recommended a book that would educate the reader on this industry: “Tragedy and Hope: The Story of Coconut in the Philippines” by Charles R. Avila with Edicio G. dela Torre (Maine & Company, Inc., 2024).

It is a compelling narrative that brings together the complex history, economic significance and social injustices surrounding the coconut industry in the Philippines. Blending investigative journalism, historical analysis and personal testimonies, the author reveals the dichotomy of an industry that has been both a source of national pride and a symbol of systemic exploitation.

From the outset, the coconut is introduced not just as a crop, but as a lifeline: “In the Philippines, the coconut is not merely a tree – it is the tree of life.” This underscores the deep cultural and economic relevance of the coconut, which has been a staple in the lives of millions of Filipino farmers. Yet, beneath this romanticized image lies a darker truth. As the book delves deeper into the lives of coconut farmers, a tragic story of poverty, monopolization and broken promises unfolds.

The tragedy begins in the colonial period and accelerates during the Marcos regime, when the so-called “coco levy fund scam” becomes a centerpiece of corruption. There is a detailed account of how billions of pesos were collected from small coconut farmers under the pretense of development, only to be funneled into private accounts and political ventures. “They told us it was for our future,” one farmer is quoted, “but we never saw a single peso return.”

Each chapter focuses on a different aspect of the industry – historical roots, economic impact, political manipulation and social struggles – interwoven with firsthand accounts that humanize the statistics.

One particularly striking story is that of Lolo Andres, a third-generation coconut farmer from Quezon Province. Despite decades of toil, he remains in debt and can barely feed his grandchildren. “The tree gives everything – water, food, oil – but we are still hungry,” he says.

The author does not shy away from indicting those responsible. Names are named, documents are cited and the web of complicity is laid bare. But the book is not a one-dimensional portrayal of doom. As the title suggests, “Tragedy and Hope” offers more than just critique – it provides a vision for reform and renewal.

Hope emerges in the final chapters, where grassroots movements, cooperative farming initiatives and youth-led agricultural innovation are spotlighted. The book highlights groups like the Philippine Coconut Farmers and Industry Development Plan (PCFIDP) as models for participatory governance and sustainability. “We stopped waiting for change from above,” says a young organizer from Davao. “We started building it from the ground up.” This shift from passive victimhood to proactive empowerment is the book’s most uplifting turn.

In examining global markets, the author also critiques the role of foreign companies and international trade policies that have kept coconut prices volatile and producers marginalized. “We export coconut oil by the ton, yet we import the poverty that comes with it,” the author writes poignantly.

The prose is eloquent yet accessible, balancing journalistic rigor with emotional depth. The use of metaphor is particularly effective. The author writes: “The coconut tree bends but does not break. Like the Filipino farmer, it endures storm after storm, waiting for a sun that does not rise.”

However, the book is not without its shortcomings. At times, the amount of details regarding legal battles and policy frameworks can overwhelm. The narrative occasionally gets bogged down in technicalities. But all seem necessary for readers towards a fuller understanding of the complexity of the coconut industry.

It is an important document that illuminates a neglected yet vital sector of Philippine society. It is a story of systemic failure, but also of unyielding spirit. It calls for accountability, equity and innovation and, above all, for listening to the voices of those who have long been ignored.

As one farmer puts it in the book’s final pages, “The coconut grows slowly, but it grows strong. Maybe our time is coming.”

This book is an essential resource for policymakers, students and anyone interested in agricultural justice, economic reform and Filipino resilience. In telling the story of the coconut, the author has told a larger story about the Philippines itself – “where tragedy is ever present, but hope, like the coconut tree, still stands.”

There is now a draft EO with the Office of the President intended to reestablish the UCPB Savings Bank using coconut levy funds as the financial support bank for the coconut farmers and the coconut industry. This proposed EO could prove to be beneficial for the coconut farmers and the industry. This is also a chance for UCPB to redeem its name from a shameful past.

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