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Human Organization, Vol. 72, No. 4, 2013Copyright © 2013 by the Society for Applied Anthropology0018-7259/13/040336-11$1.60/1

Introduction

Territorialization1 has become a common strategy for state and non-state organizations for the pursuit of nature conservation goals (Vandergeest and Peluso

1995). By creating protected areas for conservation with increasing dependence on external funding and involvement of non-state organizations, this new form of state-making is becoming prominent and widespread, particularly in the developing world (Igoe and Brockington 2007). These initia-tives frequently engage much lauded private enterprise busi-ness and NGO partnerships for achieving objectives such as sustainable conservation and ecosystem remediation.

The premise of protected areas is that the affected hu-man communities and populations must turn into people who agree with the value of conserving nature and becoming sustainable resource users. In the view of the neoliberal ap-

Shio Segi is a Post-Doctoral Fellow in the Department of Sociology and Anthropology at Mount Saint Vincent University, Halifax, Nova Scotia. He is also affiliated with the Department of Resource Management and Geography, Melbourne School of Land and Environment, the University of Melbourne. The research for this paper was undertaken with the support of Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada, the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (grant # 410-2009-0234), and the Australian National University. The author is grateful to Anthony Davis, Angela Cincotta-Segi and three anonymous reviewers for their insightful and constructive comments in the development of the manuscript. He also expresses his sincere gratitude to the people of Boljoon, especially marine harvesters and MPA guards in Granada, and the Coastal Conservation and Education Foundation, Inc. for their kind cooperation and engagement.

The Making of EnvironmentalSubjectivity in Managing Marine Protected Areas:

A Case Study from Southeast CebuShio Segi

This paper documents and examines the attributes, contradictions, and conflicts that arise in creating environmental subjects in the management of protected areas. Drawing upon a case study of a marine protected area (MPA) located in the Philippines, the paper shows that even when the protected area is coercively imposed, many local villagers may become environmental subjects through direct and indirect participation in various activities. However, the material presented in this paper also demonstrates that their conservationist behaviors only persist to the extent that these behaviors do not conflict with locally embedded social values and practices. It suggests that being attentive to the development of environmental subjectivity while allowing more flexibility in MPA design and management is an important way forward.

Key words: marine protected area, environmentality, small-scale marine harvesters

proach for protected areas, rather than individuals using the resources in an unsustainable manner, they should realize that utilizing resources in a non-extractive manner is more ratio-nal for the public good, including economic and livelihood benefits. In this process, forming what Goldman (2001) calls “eco-rational” subjects is necessary work in order to control the population through a disciplinary process influenced by globalized environmentalism. However, many people cannot become “eco-rational” subjects, and they are often simply displaced (Igoe and Brockington 2007). Thus in reality, governments or NGOs must employ another disciplinary process to include those who fail to be “eco-rational,” with the intention of creating “nature-loving allies in conserva-tion” (Li 2008:129) without emphasizing the maximization of economic rationality. Agrawal (2005) frames this requisite transformation and positioning of people’s ideology towards the natural environment as “environmentality.” Built upon the Foucaudian concept of governmentality, environmental-ity is comprised of “…the knowledges, politics, institutions, and subjectivities that come to be linked together with the emergence of the environment as a domain that requires regulation and protection” (Agrawal 2005:226). Agrawal (2005:164-165) argues that through the exercise of envi-ronmentality, there emerges environmental subjectivity that directs people to come to care about the environment; that is, “…[as] a conceptual category that organizes some of their thinking” and also “…[as] a domain in conscious relation to which they perform some of their actions.”

Protected areas in general are vulnerable because of the unavoidable simplification process of turning complex society

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more “legible” (Scott 1998). The decision-making process associated with employing protected areas uses abstractions that engage in only a very limited way with the actual activi-ties, practices, and lives of the humans potentially impacted (West and Brockington 2006). Through this process, any legal mechanism, policy, or program, including creating environ-mental subjectivity requisite for employing a protected area conservationist approach, is likely to encounter serious imple-mentation difficulties (e.g., Li 2002; Scott 1998). Thus, it is crucially important to explore the messy reality of protected area management with particular reference to its association with the environmentality and the social reality wherein and whereby the local people impacted respond.

By employing the concept of Agrawal’s environmentality, this paper documents and examines the attributes, contradic-tions, and conflicts that arise in creating environmental subjects in management of protected areas. In particular, it describes and discusses how one group of local resource users responded to a government’s and an NGO sponsor’s effort to transform them to be the “protectors” of a protected area. Agrawal ar-gues that environmental subjectivities are developed through people’s direct participation in social-ecological practices, such as monitoring the resources and enforcement of regula-tions. With or without material interests to be gained from the environment, environmental subjects think and act based on their realization for the consequence of action made by those who do not adhere to the rules of the communally managed environment. Drawing upon a case study of a marine protected area (MPA) located in the Philippines, the paper shows that even when the protected area is coercively imposed, many lo-cal villagers may become more conservation-minded people and embrace the concept of protected areas through direct and indirect participation to various MPA-linked activities. How-ever, the material presented in this paper also demonstrates that their conservationist behaviors only persist to the extent that these behaviors do not conflict with locally embedded social values and practices. Socially constructed rules and regulations concerning protected areas are negotiated among stakeholders in a local village during the course of implementation. As a consequence, local villagers shaped protected area management through manipulative negotiations to adjust the protected area to meet their own sociopolitical and economic interests within a context of uneven power distribution.

Often funded by multinational conservation NGOs and the development assistance agencies of wealthier states, ocean-sited MPAs in the developing tropics are generally created for the dual, and seemingly contradictory, purposes of achieving sustainable conservation of “vulnerable” eco-systems and their natural resources, coupled with broader economic development that is at least in part spun off of remediated ecosystems and natural resources (Christie et al. 2003). Though the area MPAs cover globally is currently still small compared to terrestrial protected areas (West, Igoe, and Brockington 2006), policymakers and conservationists are vigorously promoting them as a necessary approach, particu-larly for conserving marine biodiversity (e.g., Convention of

Biological Diversity, Fox et al. 2012). Among various habitat types, highly productive coral reefs draw special attention for their critical provision of food and jobs for many people and their vulnerability to human pressure (e.g., the Coral Triangle Initiative on Coral Reefs, Fisheries, and Food Security).

Logically, MPAs are presumed to protect and conserve biodiversity and to enhance the biomass. They are also often positioned as a resource governance approach that will en-hance extractive activities through “spillover” and “recruit-ment” effects (Russ et al. 2004). That is, MPAs will func-tion to increase access to marine resources. For many local governments, MPAs are embraced as a means to bring about resource recovery that both benefits local resource users and generates revenue from fees and economic activities induced by tourism and related activities. For the local resource users, MPAs offer the promise of increased catches, sales, process-ing and distribution activities, and the prospect of broadened economic benefits, including alternative livelihoods such as those generated through coastal tourism. Yet, MPAs are reported as experiencing implementation difficulties which negatively affect their management goals (e.g., Christie et al. 2003; Jentoft, Chuenpagdee, and Pascual-Fernandez 2011; Pollnac, Crawford, and Gorospe 2001). “Win-win” remains more a presumed than achieved outcome. MPAs are often eventuated to be “paper parks” with no management in place due to failures in simultaneously achieving biological and so-cial improvements (Christie 2004; Fox et al. 2012) while also internalizing the value of conservation among resource users.

The conservation projects observed for this paper, the Coastal Resource Management Project (CRMP) (1996-2004)2

and the Local Governance for Coastal Management Project (LGCMP) (2002-2006), had vested interests in developing environmental subjectivity though the leverage of MPAs. USAID-funded CRMP was implemented and supported by several government agencies, collaborating with local govern-ments and conservation NGOs to increase local capacity for fisheries and resource management. CRMP (2004), in order to protect coastal resources and the livelihood of coastal dwell-ers, conceived it as necessary to design the program enabling communities to manage and limit access to resources, while increasing private and public investment in activities for alternative livelihoods. In order to achieve this, much work was invested in “…the transformation or change in people’s mindset, attitudes, and behavior” (CRMP 2004:48) about their coastal environment. Built on the legacy of CRMP, LGCMP had more specific targets, that is, strengthening governance over community-based coastal resource management. The project provided training focused on coastal resource man-agement related issues, such as biophysical monitoring and deputizing coastal wardens. The project also maintained the focus on and interest in increasing awareness of the impor-tance of coastal resources through participation (CCEF 2003).

The following section describes the effort of the local government and an NGO to develop environmental subjec-tivities through government techniques involving participa-tory activities. Once these are characterized, focus turns to

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examining how villagers responded to subjectivity-making strategies. This is done through a presentation of ethnographic data that capture the villagers’ views about their identity and relationships with the MPA. The ethnographic data employed here cover the events relating to autonomous guarding of the protected area, compliance with the regulations on access to and use of the resources, and reporting of illegal activities to the authorities. These areas are often understood in studies of resource governance as reference points for the development of environmental subjectivities (e.g., Agrawal 2005; Haggerty 2007). In addition, for government officers and NGO work-ers on the ground, these are considered important tangible targets situated to determine and demonstrate the robustness of management and its outcomes and, thus, the “success” of the MPA. After presenting these ethnographic data, I will discuss their significance in terms of formation of certain types of environmental subjectivity through the MPA project.

Methodology and Research Setting

Clarifying attributes of and responses to MPA man-agement is complex. Long-term observation and study are required in order to develop a good understanding of the

implicated local sociopolitical and economic conditions (Blount and Pitchon 2007; Fabinyi, Knudsen, and Segi 2010). This study considered stakeholders’ relations to the marine space and resources, as well as the social relations within and between the various social groups and parties involved. To these ends, three periods of extensive anthropological field-work (preliminary, core, and follow-up) were conducted, for a total of 16 months between August 2005 and October 2008. Most of the data presented in this paper are from the core aspect of the fieldwork, which was begun in February 2006 and completed in April 2007. In the course of the research, numerous semi-structured and unstructured interviews were conducted with small-scale marine harvesters, non-fishing residents, government workers, politicians, and NGO work-ers.3 Furthermore, a separate series of interviews on percep-tions of the MPA were completed with almost all household heads within the coastal dwellers of the targeted village (170 respondents out of 182 households).

The study draws upon fieldwork completed in barangay (village) Granada in the Municipality of Boljoon. Granada is located approximately 100 km south of Cebu City facing Bohol Strait, which lies between it and the island of Bohol (Figure 1). It is a small village where fishing is the dominant

Figure 1. Location of the Research Site

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livelihood among its coastal households. The majority of them constantly experience substantial difficulty in satisfying financial and material needs. Others engage with livelihoods such as poultry and livestock raising, trading, transportation, and cultivation of corn, coconut, and bananas. In fact, many marine harvesters also perform one or more of these activities for supplementary sources of income. A rectangular shaped MPA is located north of the village’s most densely populated area, covering 9.35 ha of coral reef. This amounts to 37 percent of the municipality’s coral reef area (CCEF 2003). In the narrow strip of land wedged between mountain and sea, there are a small number of houses built adjacent to the MPA that mainly are occupied by a relatively wealthy group of Granada villagers. Separated from these by a national road are simpler houses built on a steep slope. These are mostly occupied by marine harvesters. Prior to the MPA, the coastal area had been an important location for gleaners and harvest-ers, particularly for those without sophisticated equipment and harvesting essentially for daily subsistence (Segi 2011). All harvesting and trespassing were legally banned through a Municipal Ordinance in 2001, except for fee-paying rec-reational activities and scientific research. This meant that harvesters and gleaners were forced to rely on alternative, less productive locations. In turn, marine harvesters were forced to incur increased expenses (e.g., greater gasoline costs and time) to travel further afield in pursuit of resources.

Municipal Government’s and NGO’s Effort to Form “Environmental Subjects”

At one of the CRMP sites, the MPA development in Granada featured a number of activities and seminars to “in-crease awareness” of the problems with and solutions for coral reef conservation. In 2000, a Participatory Coastal Resources Assessment was conducted by CRMP, in collaboration with the local government and various local groups including marine harvesters, to create a map that helped identify the potential sites for establishing the MPA. Based on the map, several meetings were held by the municipal government to determine the site for the Granada MPA. Most villagers concluded that their participation in this process, at best, amounted to tokenism because their involvement was limited to only choosing between one area or another, rather than be-ing centrally involved in defining the area. These meetings were remembered as being filled with villagers who were concerned about the negative effects of the MPA on fishing and gleaning. These villagers also expressed resentment about the government’s imposition of conservation. Despite their opposition, the MPA was established in 2001 at the reef and was registered by ordinance. After the 2002 termina-tion of CRMP activities in this area, LGCMP, funded by an American foundation, was started in Granada. This project aimed to continue the initiatives that CRMP had started but with stronger emphasis on local governance and community participation, considered required in order to achieve robust MPA management, among other goals (CCEF 2003).

In Granada, the most powerful technique employed to form environmental subjectivity was the NGO-organized annual biophysical MPA monitoring exercise. Every year, the NGO, with cooperation from the municipal government, conducted a biophysical monitoring activity at the MPA to check its biological status and trends. Annual monitoring has been conducted from the very beginning of MPA imple-mentation. The activity involved volunteer marine harvesters participating in an underwater transect survey to identify the condition of coral and fish density. Even though the primary purpose of this activity was to let marine harvesters learn the skill of monitoring (Stepath 2000), their direct experience with the improved condition of the MPA was expected to turn them into its avid “protectors.” These marine harvesters were usually fascinated by directly witnessing the rich ecology and diversity inside a somewhat “mysterious” area. Since access to the MPAs has been entirely restricted for several years, monitoring activity is the only occasion during which marine harvesters are able to directly observe the MPA’s ecological, biological, and species attributes. Marine harvesters have as their reference point degraded and unprotected reefs, so less disturbed protected reefs impress them. This experience strengthens their faith and confidence in the MPA’s positive effects.

Their positive impressions about MPAs were further re-inforced by “scientific” data. Prior to the monitoring activity, volunteer marine harvesters attended a seminar on monitoring methods, as well as ecological outcomes arising from MPA implementation. In the seminar, the “scientific” data almost always represented outcomes of the MPA as positive. When the data showed a somewhat contradictory result, they were effectively rejected by NGO workers for being erroneous and unscientific (cf. Büscher and Dressler 2007). At one of these seminars, for example, an NGO worker was asked by a participant to explain in front of over 20 villagers a paradoxi-cal result – the data indicated that populations of hard coral decreased inside the MPA while seeming to increase outside the MPA.4 Without any investigation, the response of the NGO worker was simply to deny any negative possibilities. He stated, “In my opinion, I will conclude that it’s the placement of the transect.” That is, any seemingly contradictory findings were merely a consequence of erroneous data produced as a result of methodological limitations. With limited knowledge of the scientific account for methodology and with the trust in NGO workers who are more educated, this explanation was enough to quiet participants’ further questions about the “odd” data. As a symbol of modernity and its close association with symbolic power (e.g., Pigg 1996), scientific knowledge gave more credence to the NGO’s representation of MPAs (Walley 2002). Through such experiences, marine harvesters became more convinced of the MPA’s value.

Indeed, the information derived from the seminars and monitoring activities had a considerable effect in constructing the image formed and expressed by local residents, includ-ing non-participating marine harvesters who were originally unenthusiastic about or opposed to the MPA. Although the

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number of marine harvesters volunteering to conduct monitor-ing was small, they turned out to be influential local channels for the dissemination of positive information about the MPA through the networks of their friends and families. Given that most villagers retained a high interest in MPA perfor-mance, this worked quite effectively. Interviews confirmed that villager perceptions of the MPA showing clear signs of resource recovery were largely based on what they had heard from marine harvesters who participated in monitoring. It was also observed that upon their return to the village, the volunteer harvesters were asked frequently about what they saw during the monitoring activities. Their responses stressed the abundance of species and the large size of fish not often seen outside the MPA, as well as the overall improved reef condition.

As a result, although villagers recalled that initially in 2001 many of them were opposed to the introduction of the MPA, a majority of villagers, including marine harvesters, became increasingly convinced of the MPA’s positive effect on resources. They had been moved through these experi-ences and interpretations to becoming environmental subjects. Of course, this does not mean that everybody was actively supporting the MPA. In fact, those marine harvesters who were most affected by the MPA retained their oppositional position. There was also a group of people who reluctantly accepted the MPA because they felt they were powerless to do anything about it. Yet despite this, it was also true that there were more people who were genuinely interested in the value of the MPA than otherwise. In a survey conducted during the field research, over 85 percent of household heads in coastal Granada noted that they supported the MPA for conservation and potential economic advantages. This did not mean, how-ever, that villagers had become fully bought-in environmental subjects expected to comply with the rules and regulations.

Guarding the MPA for Whom?

Defining the responsibility and conditions for guarding the MPA was always a sensitive issue in Granada. The mu-nicipality reasoned that the MPA should be guarded without any financial incentives by local villagers, since they were its major beneficiaries. However, because of the labor intensity of the surveillance, it was difficult to establish a voluntary system with a clear distribution of responsibility. Formally, the primary responsibility fell to the Fish and Aquatic Re-source Managers in North Granada (FARMING) organiza-tion, which was intended to be responsible for both guarding and providing boat motors for this purpose; but, guarding did not occur, and the organization’s activities never went beyond boat motorization. Rather, voluntary guarding was done by four villagers from the Sea Warden’s Association of Boljoon (SWAB), which previously had mainly guarded municipal waters against illegal fishing. This disorganized and unsystematic way of guarding the MPA, with no clear rules or precise duties, permitted only cursory surveillance and protection. The subsequent temporary deactivation of

the SWAB terminated them as a guarding option. The lack of mutually agreed upon and feasible arrangements led to no one being fully responsible for MPA surveillance.

To address this situation, in early 2006 the barangay captain (village head) mobilized barangay councillors and tanod members (village-based quasi-police force) to watch over the MPA. In an unusual twist, punitive measures were put in place to encourage participation, that is, a fine of 100 pesos ($7.70) for the former group and 50 pesos ($3.85) for the latter for dereliction of duty. To say the least, this was not well accepted by the barangay councillors and tanod members. Most of them were also small-scale harvesters. They complained about the problem of being up most of the night, especially when already tired from fishing or other daily work. The surveillance arrangement soon was near collapse as assigned guards started losing faith in it. When successful fishing was rather promising, they chose to skip their shifts to go fishing, since they could easily afford the fine from their catch.

These occurrences and outcomes accentuated the guards’ underlying, if unspoken, question: who were they guarding the MPA for? Apart from the burden of the shared workload, there were several other contentious issues regarding the municipality’s MPA management arrangements. The most controversial issue was the expectation and, eventually, demand for some reasonable remuneration for guard work. Information that MPA guards in the neighboring municipality received 1,200 pesos ($92) a month angered them even more. An officer from the municipal government explained that the reason why the MPA guards should not be paid was because the municipal government encouraged local autonomy over the community-based MPA and also that the municipality was under tight financial constraints. The municipal govern-ment envisaged that provision of a financial incentive was not a good idea because people might perform guarding work only as long as payment was involved. Further, since it was uncertain whether the provision of such a reward could be maintained after potential political turbulence, payment could jeopardize the entire autonomous management program.

In addition to this, the guards felt frustrated by the disre-gard for their hard work and the refusal to show gratitude in small ways such as provision of an occasional snack or hot drink. These were judged as necessary during the long hours of guarding and expensive for small-scale marine harvesters to buy themselves (for the importance of these acts in Philip-pine society, see Kerkvliet 1990). The municipality’s failure to acknowledge guards’ efforts was considered disrespectful and caused the guards to lose interest in the work.

In the end, the tension between the MPA guards and the municipal government was broken by the refusal of guards to do the job. The barangay captain called a meeting with the other guards and informed them that he would no longer serve in that capacity. The guards unanimously supported him and chose to cut off electricity to the guardhouse. While some were said to voluntarily continue guarding on a sporadic basis, again, the MPA effectively lost its guard system. Eventually,

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this situation forced the municipality to compromise. In 2008, it formally organized a system with a monthly honorarium of 500 pesos ($38) paid to each guard. Three new guards were officially assigned; two of whom had been guards previously.

Using “Harmless” Methods to Catch “Unimportant” Fish

Both the municipality and the NGO were strongly com-mitted to keeping the MPA intact and safe from illegal activi-ties. All parties believed in a strict application of the no-take rule because without human interference, marine life should recover from damage more quickly. This was considered important because of general concern for the sustainability of small-scale fishing, the general value of conservation, or de-veloping tourism, depending on the interests of stakeholders.

Although marine harvesters were sympathetic to the conservation value of MPAs, this resulted less from their appreciation of the value of conservation itself than from the perceived economic advantages they would derive (cf. Poll-nac, Crawford, and Gorospe 2001). The spillover effect from the MPA was the main anticipated benefit. As this process requires a long time (Russ and Alcala 1996) and often is only limited (e.g., Foale and Manele 2004), this crucial feature of the MPA is difficult to demonstrate convincingly. Though most small-scale marine harvesters in Granada perceived a better resource condition inside the MPA, their perception regarding impacts on their livelihood was usually negative.

This led to a majority of marine harvesters, regardless of their success level, doing some sikpaw (scoop net fishing) inside the MPA, insisting this was a legitimate, harmless activity. This is a very common seasonal fishing method used only in near shore waters in the evening to catch mainly juvenile sardine and herring. Scoop nets were used as a compromise due to what was then a government restriction on beach seining to catch the same species, which forced marine harvesters to convert to this gear type. Recalling how he was caught using a scoop net inside the MPA in its early days, one harvester’s resentment was obvious as he observed, “How could my sikpaw affect the sanctuary [MPA]?” He gave two reasons for this rather common sentiment about the gear being harmless (Eder 2005), which were widely shared by those marine harvesters who regularly crossed the boundaries. Understanding that the MPA was to protect the reef and fish inside, he argued that species such as juvenile sardines are always swimming around the boundaries. They are important commercial species that can be eaten and sold in many different forms, but he explained that this was rarely discussed in relation to MPA management. Whereas munici-pal officers and NGO members often mentioned “important” species like snapper, grouper, and parrotfish, species such as sardine, which are fast growing, reproduce copiously, and are thus more resilient, were rarely mentioned. Although sardines are “unimportant” in the scope of conservation relating to the MPA, they are undoubtedly a very important species for the livelihood of small-scale marine harvesters.

The harvester’s second reason pertained to the way in which this fishing method operates. Because fish are attracted to light, they are lured close to the water’s surface through use of a light and captured there. This operation usually does not involve any damage to the reef because it targets only isda sa mabaw (fish in surface water), not isda sa bato (demersal fish). Unlike other methods, the harvester argued that scoop nets did not harm either the reef or the “important” fish inside the MPA.

The claims of these marine harvesters were never offi-cially acknowledged, and, in practice, the municipal govern-ment effectively turned a blind eye. Except for the first few months when the municipal government actively pursued those who violated the rules with a warning, law enforcement directed towards these “harmless” marine harvesters for MPA violations became more lenient. This change was attributed to the response of MPA guards torn between conflicting loyalties. They felt uneasy confronting villagers known to them and connected through social relations. One guard, for instance, expressed his hesitancy to take action against his often-spotted cousins because they help each other in fish-ing, and he also understood the position of the scoop netters. Despite the fact that scoop net fishing was widespread and that it was no secret to many municipal government officers, there was no pursuit and arrest of these marine harvesters at any point during the fieldwork.

No Reporting to the Authority

Some more efficient, potentially more destructive, and more secretive fishing activity took place inside the Granada MPA, and not just seasonally. One woman from a relatively well-off non-fishing household that had been actively in-volved with planning and implementing the MPA confided that a few villagers coming from the more impoverished hill-side across the road from her house engaged in night fishing using “active gear”5 inside the MPA on a regular basis. As her house was situated in front of the MPA and some marine harvesters passed it at odd times, she understood that these harvesters were fishing inside the MPA. The marine harvesters had severe financial difficulties and struggled to make a living, and most used less productive methods in near shore waters, where resources were largely depleted. They achieved only meagre catches from long hours of fishing. Now that the most accessible fishing ground had become an MPA, their lives had become increasingly difficult. These marine harvesters occasionally fished from midnight until dawn, using a tram-mel net (double net) and hook-and-line gear. Trammel nets in particular are considered to be quite destructive to marine habitat, since they can easily become tangled with the coral, and their small-size mesh indiscriminately takes juveniles of less resilient reef associated species.

Despite knowing that these activities were illegal and might adversely affect marine conservation, with which she strongly agreed, the woman sympathized with these marine harvesters and became partly complicit in their behavior. As she observed:

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Just imagine this. You always swim to catch fish when the weather is good, but you cannot even do that during bad weather, and you cannot go elsewhere to fish either. Now, will you allow these people to die? I even say to them, “Come on, they [guards] are not going to see you. Don’t worry; I am not going to tell anyone. A secret is a secret!”

Despite her strong belief in the conservation value of the MPA, her empathy was based on the strong cultural notion that everybody has the right to feed his or her family (Kerkvliet 1990; Szanton 1972). Although such an endorsement lacked either legal or political power to influence the authorities, it gave the marine harvesters engaging in this illegal activity some sense of security and justification.

However, such willingness to compromise on the value of conservation when it conflicted with the right to survive was conditional to the mode of fishing. As the same female informant explained, marine harvesters should not rely on illegal activity, and poaching was considered a last resort that should not become habitual, partly because of the increased likelihood of being caught, but also to minimize ecological impacts on the MPA. There might have been some mutual understanding between this woman and the poachers that even necessary illegal fishing should be done moderately and infrequently, and catching too many fish or earning more than was needed to feed their families would not be seen as acceptable.

Not reporting illegal activities inside the MPA to the authorities was a collective act. While coastal residents elsewhere were effectively recruited as de facto guards and reported illegal activities inside the MPA, according to the municipal officer, residents near the MPA had never reported any incidents. Unlike some other sites in the region, owing to geographical features, houses were located sparsely along the shore near the MPA, and residents engaged mostly in small-scale livelihood activities around the Granada MPA. In some cases, fear of retaliation by poachers may have led to non-reporting. Apparently, higher social cohesiveness among the residents around the MPA led to the residents’ refusal to cooperate with the municipality, thereby decreas-ing misfortune in the already difficult lives of poor marine harvesters. MPA guards were also aware of this occasional poaching, but they never reported these activities. At the same time, they cracked down on extra-local poachers who came much less frequently.

Discussion

Despite the efforts of the government and NGO, the incidents presented above suggest that transforming Granada villagers into environmental subjects that the CRMP origi-nally envisaged was unsuccessful. The reason for this is rather obvious. As experienced in Palawan (Eder 2005) with a similar CRMP initiative, the MPA process did not involve villagers as equal decision makers but pushed them to the periphery in the process. Rather than being actors in, they were acted upon. They felt their participation to be a mere

requirement under a “community-based” protocol. After the MPA was established, the villagers were further expected to take an active role to maintain it based on a somewhat naïve expectation of what ought to happen. Agrawal (2005) speci-fies that “intimate government” is a form of government that works closely together with resource users to create regula-tory strategies through daily social interactions and increases resource users’ conformity to the regulations by shaping their recognition of the impact of their actions on resources. Intimate government was clearly absent in Granada. Retain-ing the strong notion of the MPA being imposed on them, villagers choose not to follow those regulations or fulfill those obligations that seemed unreasonable and that did not make much sense either to conservation or their livelihoods.

The subtle everyday resistance of villagers can be understood as a “weapon of the weak” (Scott 1985). In the case of guarding the MPA, boycotting the duty which was unreasonably imposed on them eventuated in the provision of an honorarium. Though it was not a large amount considering the demanding nature of the work, it was well received by guards as a gesture of appreciation and a small contribution to their household budget. Similarly, marine harvesters violated the no-take rule, claiming that their fishing was not affecting the core objectives of the MPA. The municipal government tolerated non-compliance, since it knew the livelihood im-portance of this fishing and also knew of the harvesters’ anger at being tossed around by government regulations on fishing. In addition, despite the fact that villagers residing around the MPA were expected to report to the municipal government whenever they witnessed illegal activities, they refused to do so because they felt it was not fair for impoverished vil-lagers. Many Granada villagers believed that they should be granted at least some access to the resources in the MPA site on the basis of customary practices. This notion of fairness in balancing conservation with livelihood security claimed by the villagers emerged out of their concern towards the government’s politics-as-usual approach to the MPA (Eder 2005). Being situated in lower social and economic positions, villagers have always felt that they were disfavored by politics and that their livelihood concerns would not be adequately addressed by government projects. To achieve fairness, they subjectively manipulated MPA management to take account of the social and economic realities of their everyday lives.

However, these cases also showed that villagers did not chip away at the MPA regulations, and they repeatedly recited the importance of the MPA. Evidently, a large portion of villagers supported the MPA in one way or another. They indicated a willingness, in their own ways, to cooperate with the local government and the NGO to maintain the MPA. Even when the guards left the MPA, villagers observed no change in adherence to the MPA regulations for months until the new guards were assigned. As much as they may have been tempted, marine harvesters never used more efficient fishing methods inside the MPA when they were scoop net-ting. It might be said that the villagers’ behavior is explained by their fear of being apprehended for breaking the rules. A

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more thorough explanation, alternatively, is that this behavior expresses the villagers’ strategic response to avoid a direct conflict with the municipal government politicians, who were “wealthy,” “educated,” and powerful people of a higher social and economic position with whom villagers aspired to maintain social linkages (e.g., Kerkvliet 1990). These quali-ties certainly affected the behavior of villagers, but they don’t explain why villagers clearly regulated their behaviors based on their understanding of how their actions related to the MPA. Rather, villagers’ self-regulation is a clear indication that some kind of environmental subjectivities were created along the way or predated the MPA experiences.

The environmental subjectivity that villagers developed here related to using protected resources with a sense of moderation. Guards, marine harvesters, and residents around the MPA consciously engaged in activities intended to avoid negative impacts on the MPA environment and ecosystem based on their local empirical knowledge. These activities were not sporadic actions. Rather, they were regulated by local understandings of what was tolerable and what was not in each context. Though marine harvesters believed that these reasons justified their use of the MPA, they refrained from using the MPA area regularly even within the fishing season and instead expanded their range of fishing activities. In order to secure some access to the resources in the MPA, marine harvesters, rather than following the legally estab-lished rules, began to determine what could be done and to what extent they could infringe the imposed rules based on their own judgments of what complied with the principles of MPA management (see Seki 2009).

This sense of compromise is a product of what Li (1999) calls culturally intimate everyday negotiation. She argues that the understandings and practices carried out in contingent spaces for compromise are of more significance in actually ac-complishing government than is the imposition “from above” of a development scheme or other form of disciplinary power. According to Li, these compromises are neither an ad hoc intervention of strategic actors nor a planned action. Rather, she sees them as “…the unintended outcome of culturally informed action, the result of people’s intimate knowledge of their own state system, which includes knowledge of ‘how to go on’ in a variety of contexts, including when up against a problematic plan or rule” (Li 1999:315).

This weak form of environmental subjectivity, guided by culturally intimate compromises, was also tolerated by people in municipal government, who refrained from harsh punishments. As was described above, and as has often been observed in Philippine society (e.g., Olofson and Crisostomo 2000), residents around the MPA took a moral stand and refrained from reporting poachers since the consequences of apprehension could be devastating. However, this attitude also existed among municipal officers, police, and local guards, such that at the time of the research no fine had ever been imposed on any local harvesters apprehended for illegal fishing since the establishment of the MPA. At least one case of overnight imprisonment had occurred, but this was more an admonish-

ment than a formal punishment, as no further legal action was taken. In most cases, a verbal warning was given along with the threat that any repetition would lead to further action. As Olofson and Crisostomo (2000:13) explain, “[T]hose in power or in positions of domination…may find themselves forced to overlook or go easy…in order to avoid accusations of inhuman behavior.” This is particularly the case when dealing with the poor who are striving merely to survive. While intimate gov-ernment was formally absent, the everyday negotiations based on context specific knowledge of how to proceed and act, in effect, functioned as a medium to regulate the behaviors both of those who govern and of those being governed.

The case examined here points to the need for reconsider-ing how the factors and processes forming social identity such as social class and ethnicity affect the creation of one’s subject position towards the environment. Though this study is not intended to focus on the relative importance of elements that contribute to the construction of one’s environmental subjectiv-ity, the findings suggests that Agrawal’s position that seeing social identity as only a “marginal” element may endanger the meaning of the negotiations and compromises. As the cases showed, Granada villagers, regardless of their form and level of involvement with MPA implementation and governance, were clearly expressing a social identity shaped within the local political economy and accentuated in their claim for fairness (see Birkenholtz 2009). Focusing on the level of resource us-ers’ adherence to regulations as a sole indicator for subjectivity formation is not helpful for identifying varieties of environ-mental subjectivity. Rather, more attention needs to be paid to the specific regulations the resource users subjectively choose to follow and/or discard, as well as to how these actions are understood and expressed within the local context.

This discussion of the environmental subjectivity that was developed in Granada raises questions about its ef-fectiveness for conservation. However, within a project full of confusion and contradictions in the logic and expression of the protected areas (Brockington, Duffy, and Igoe 2008), fostering environmental subjectivities at its core considerably changed villagers’ ideas about the marine environment and conservation inside the MPA, particularly in relation to their own fishing practices. Culturally intimate forms of negotia-tion worked to mitigate the tension that emerged between the logic of conservation and the local reality. This enabled actors to maneuver in accordance with the conditions they faced. Through this, the villagers and the municipal govern-ment, which both shared conservationist ideas, could find the most workable management practice for the MPA through compromise. This in turn allowed them to achieve a certain level of project “success” for both sides and facilitated the longevity of the project (Li 1999).

Conclusion

This paper has argued that under a coercive and contra-dictory conservation project, the intended development of environmental subjectivities was only partly achieved. While

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accepting the value of the MPA, resource users followed the basic management principles only insofar as they coincided with their own interpretations of them and as a compromise. Payment for guarding the MPA became a contentious issue between the two sides. In addition, occasional covert fishing was locally interpreted as legitimate and was never reported to the authori-ties. Even when poachers were apprehended, harsh punishment was always avoided. The municipality had to compromise over the MPA in order to have it “succeed.” However, even though it seems that the government and NGO’s attempt at subject making was unsuccessful, it helped to motivate resource users to regulate their extractive activities. Thus, although there were changes that could interfere with the level of achievement, the municipality, the NGO, and the resource users shared a certain success in fostering their interests.

The case described here demonstrates how the prac-tice of a resource management project was carried out not through the mere imposition of rule from above but through negotiations and compromises specific to the social, cultural, economic, and even geographical particularities of the context in which the project was implemented. While believing in protecting the marine environment through the MPA, local resource users were subjectively engaged in the negotiation of more acceptable and manageable implementation measures for themselves and members of their social networks. Such measures were grounded in an ecological rationale as well as economic and sociocultural basis. Resource users sought out spaces for compromise in which they could either assert their own demands openly or carry out “illegal” practices clandestinely, but only in a moderate way. They did this with the knowledge that the authorities too were engaged in processes of compromise whereby they sometimes opted to adapt regulations, issue warnings, or even turn a blind eye rather than impose strict and inflexible legal penalties.

Stakeholders’ efforts to “work things out” by adjusting to the social reality through this kind of negotiation lead us to question how a “successful” MPA might be conceptualized. While there is no single agreed definition or method to mea-sure the success of an MPA, Pollnac, Crawford, and Gorospe (2001) suggest it can be assessed by examining the level of coral health, resource abundance perception, physical and organizational capacity, adherence to rules, and community empowerment. Though valuable in providing practical infor-mation for planning, these indicators cannot take account of issues such as the above-mentioned stakeholders’ practices to adjust MPA management to local social realities. An MPA where guarding is only sketchily done, infrequent but regular intrusions occur, and poaching goes unreported, as in the case of Granada, may be likely considered a “failure” relative to the aforementioned success indicators. However, although not implemented exactly as originally planned, the Granada MPA project altered people’s behavior about protecting their local environment in such a way that most villagers could follow and sustain it for a longer period. MPAs need to achieve both biological and social goals in order to be sustained (Christie 2004). Achieving a certain level of success in both goals

through compromising even some crucial components of a “successful” MPA may provide an alternative long-term model for continuing the conservation efforts of local resource users, whereas a strict top-down application of rules and procedures frequently results in complete collapse.

The immediate concern for the case above is whether this fragile environmentality persists over time. Local level spontaneous practices are both difficult to recognize and fragile. It is also impossible to formally institutionalize them. Furthermore, it is no easy task to ascertain whether these practices are fine adjustments or simply an abuse of rules, or perhaps both. However, being attentive to the development of environmental subjectivity and accordingly allowing more flexibility in MPA design and management is clearly an important way forward. Doing this may open up the pos-sibility of creating diverse forms of MPAs, which are more responsive to local contexts and simultaneously bring about resource conservation and social justice.

Notes

1According to Vandergeest and Peluso (1995:388), territorialization is a process of state-making involving “excluding or including people within particular geographic boundaries, and about controlling what people do and their access to natural resources within those boundaries.”

2The CRMP (2004) was a 9-year project implemented in several learning areas in different parts of the archipelago. The involvement of southeast Cebu in the project started in 1998, and implementation of some project components was carried out a few years later. The project was officially terminated in this study’s research site in 2002, but it continued for another two years in some project areas.

3There are over 600 interviews recorded during my fieldwork, but many do not exclusively focus on the topic of this paper. Interview content was transcribed for over 700 pages of fieldnotes.

4This case was observed in March 2007 in Boljoon’s neighboring town of Alcoy, where the CRMP established two MPAs, and the same NGO members provided the technical support for their management. Similar manipulative approaches to scientific objectivity, such as representing unreliable and heavily pro-MPA biased data as scientific evidence, were also observed in the MPA monitoring seminars in Boljoon in August 2006 and August 2008.

5According to Fisheries Administrative Order No. 198: Series of 2000, active gear is “a fishing device characterized by gear movements and/or the pursuit of its target species by towing; lifting and pushing the gears surrounding, covering dredging, pumping and scaring the target species to impoundments, such as, but not limited to trawl, purse seine, Danish seine, bag nets, pa-aling, drift gill net and tuna longline.”

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