SHOULD THE SALE OF CREAM DORY BE BANNED?

SHOULD THE SALE OF CREAM DORY BE BANNED?

I must confess, I am allergic to cream dory. At first, I thought it was just my body being overly sensitive, until I realized that many other people share the same reaction. This raises a troubling question: if this fish affects so many of us, why is it still flooding our markets and restaurant menus? Even more concerning, some countries—including the United States, Australia, New Zealand, and India—have already banned or restricted its importation. If others have taken such measures, should we in the Philippines not at least study the possibility?

Let us be clear: cream dory, or pangasius (also called basa or Vietnamese cobbler), is not inherently evil. The controversy lies in how and where it is farmed. Much of the pangasius supply worldwide comes from the Mekong River, which has long been criticized for heavy pollution from industrial waste, agricultural runoffs, and even untreated sewage. Fish raised in such conditions may absorb toxins like pesticides and heavy metals. A French documentary, Poisson or Poison, made international headlines when it alleged unsanitary practices in pangasius farming, including freezing fish in dirty water and injecting them with chemicals to improve appearance.

Yet the science is not one-sided. Experts like Prof. Simon Bush of Wageningen University argue that not all pangasius farms are unsafe—some comply with international standards and even bear certifications like ASC (Aquaculture Stewardship Council). The European Union, while not banning pangasius, requires strict testing, traceability, and documentation before the fish can enter their markets. So, are we banning cream dory because of fact—or because of fear?

In the Philippines, the issue takes on another layer. Pangasius was introduced by both the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources (BFAR) and private entrepreneurs as a hardy, fast-growing alternative aquaculture species. It is already being raised in ponds and cages across the country, providing livelihood to many small farmers. Unfortunately, cream dory is also an invasive species. It escapes during floods, colonizes rivers like the Marikina and Pasig, and competes with native fish such as biya, martiniko, and gourami. Worse, it feeds on the eggs and juveniles of these species, upsetting the ecological balance. In short, while it fattens dinner plates, it threatens our biodiversity.

If a ban is considered, it should not be abrupt. We cannot simply pull the rug from under farmers who invested in pangasius culture. A transition plan would be essential, offering alternatives like bangus, or even native species that could be scaled up. Otherwise, we risk replacing one problem with another: lost livelihoods.

In the meantime, several steps could and should be taken. First, labeling must be improved and strictly enforced. Consumers deserve to know where their fish comes from—whether imported from the Mekong or locally farmed in Laguna de Bay. This is where coordination between the Food and Drug Administration (FDA), Bureau of Customs (BOC), BFAR, and the Department of Trade and Industry (DTI) becomes crucial. Are these agencies even talking to each other? Or are shipments slipping through unchecked?

Second, importation must be monitored, if not limited. Why allow massive volumes when we could protect and promote safer local alternatives? Cream dory is cheap, yes—but should price alone dictate our choices? What good are savings if they come at the expense of public health, food security, and ecological sustainability?

Third, traceability laws already exist under the Food Safety Act of 2013 and the Fisheries Code of 1998. These empower BFAR to enforce documentation, record-keeping, and traceability in the supply chain. The problem is not the absence of laws, but the weakness of enforcement. If Europe can demand certifications and lab results before a pangasius fillet enters their borders, why can’t we? Are Filipino consumers less deserving of safety and transparency?

Some might argue that cream dory fills a gap in affordable protein, especially for low-income families. That is true. But there are alternatives. Bangus is not only abundant but also better adapted to our waters and more transparent in their production. Promoting these could support local farmers while reducing dependence on questionable imports.

In the end, the question is not whether cream dory should be banned tomorrow. The deeper question is whether our government values food safety, environmental protection, and consumer rights enough to take a firm stance. Are we willing to risk invasive species, questionable farming practices, and potential health hazards just to save a few pesos at the market?

For me, the answer lies in caution, transparency, and accountability. Until then, I will personally stay away from cream dory—and encourage others to ask not just what is on their plate, but where it came from. Because food, like politics, should never be swallowed blindly.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

01-16-2026