In this guest blog for Focus on Labour Exploitation, researcher Kookie Gutierrez reflects on her work engaging with Filipino migrant fishers and their experiences on UK vessels.
When I began my fieldwork on Filipino migrant fishers who had worked in the United Kingdom, I knew the stories would be interesting, rich and complex.
What I didn’t anticipate was just how difficult it would be to find the very people whose experiences I hoped to capture. These reflections explore the complexities of engaging transitory fishers directly, how I overcame the problems, and what this means for this crucial area of research.
At the onset, I had no contacts or leads. Things started looking up when I met Mr. Orley Badilla of Stella Maris Apostleship of the Sea, to arrange a separate interview.
Stella Maris is a non-profit organisation that provides pastoral and practical care to seafarers, fishers and their families. Having been informed that they assisted communities, particularly the coastal towns of Santander and Oslob, North of Cebu, Philippines, where most of the migrant fishers came from, I requested Mr Badilla if he could refer me to some fishers there.
He kindly accommodated my attempt at networking and immediately connected me to the wives of migrant fishers who lived in Santander.At one point, a random birthday party led to 4 interviews of fishers who were all invited to the event. Their assistance wasn’t just logistical—it was personal, since the respondents knew and trusted them. Conducting this type of research relies strongly on this type of trust, which was extended to me through Mr Badilla and his years of relationship-building.
On the other hand, Oslob posed a different challenge. My initial contact in Oslob didn’t push through due to a medical issue, so I had to look for referrals elsewhere. I ended up relying on fishers in Santander, who connected me with fellow fishers they knew in Oslob. At one point, I even interviewed a respondent who was referred by a random tricycle driver I met at the terminal—an unexpected, but nonetheless, very helpful connection.Being in the right place at the right time can be just as crucial as anything when it comes to this type of research.
The interviews that followed were deeply personal and resonant. Many of the fishers had spent months working in the cold waters around the UK – with some expressing they didn’t expect it to be that cold! They endured long shifts and worked through frigid temperatures.
They spoke candidly about homesickness (and seasickness), physical exhaustion, and the demanding nature of offshore work. While they spoke of these hardships, they also shared moments of pride – supporting their children’s education, providing for their families and securing a more stable future for them. All the respondents cited how better pay and opportunities factored in their decision to work in the UK and how their families served as inspiration and motivation to keep going back.
Most left for the UK through transit visas, also known as Code 7 leave. They claimed that the parameters of the visa were explained to them, but they appeared to not fully understand the restrictions attached to these entry documents. Even with visa rules that technically limited them to the vessel, they were still able to go into town while it was docked, with their skipper’s permission. The lack of awareness didn’t seem to bother them, though. They believed that their jobs and movement were protected by the fishing companies they worked for.
However, not all stories were smooth sailing. A couple of fishers shared that they were sent home for violating policies tied to their transit visas. These fishermen had been caught working on a different boat—one not listed in their contract. For the UK Border, the visa strictly tied them to a single vessel. This violation meant immediate repatriation. But even these stories of grave consequence were told in levity. While they knew it was a serious infraction, this didn’t keep them from trying to return to the UK for more fishing work.
Aside from their monthly salaries, some migrant fishers received bonuses from their skippers and boat owners. Moreover, they described comfortable living arrangements, complete with amenities and free meals. Their stay in hotels or flats upon arriving and/or before leaving the UK and the plane fares to and from the Philippines are all covered by their companies as well. These perks must have made them feel that the difficult work, and being away from their families for months on end, was worthwhile.
The fishermen’s stories bared their sacrifices and the resilience with which they faced these challenges. Their love for family and commitment to work made them endure,sustain, and even find points of contentment in working in the UK.
This fieldwork became more than just a research assignment – it became a reminder of the generosity that underpins community-based work. I entered Santander and Oslob with uncertainty, not knowing where to find respondents or whether I’d find them at all. Fortunately, I did find them, with the help of Stella Maris and their connections in the community. Consequently, I left with stories that were entrusted to me with honesty and vulnerability. Indeed, lessons begin when communities welcome you and let you in.
Listening to their stories, I realised that fishers pointed to their children’s education and family well-being as the anchor of all their decisions. They talked about extreme working conditions, deportation risks, strict transit visa rules, and immediate repatriation with surprising calm, even humor. While they appeared to take it lightly, to me, it revealed how people process vulnerability in ways that make life more bearable for them. Essentially, they put up with these risks, because, for them, ensuring their family’s future is well worth taking such risks.
The insights gathered from this fieldwork will hopefully contribute to improving support systems for migrant fishers and strengthening the networks that sustain them.
Collaboration with local networks like Stella Maris, fisher associations, and key community members should also be cultivated and strengthened to continuously support outreach and similar engagements. These partnerships could also build channels for advice, guidance, or assistance. These could include orientations, such as the pre-departure seminars conducted by Stella Maris, and referral protocols for supporting fishers in their communities. Since fishers often feel protected by employers despite legal vulnerabilities, efforts must be initiated to explain visa restrictions and consequences and other work migration challenges more clearly. This can be addressed through one of these channels.
I concluded the interviews with a feeling of privilege and responsibility – the responsibility of sharing their stories with care and respect. What they do is not like shooting fish in a barrel. It involves skill, sacrifice, risks, uncertainties. But they endure, and even, thrive, because as one respondent put it, “Makita man ang resulta”, or “You can see the results”.
In the end, the most valuable catch from this fieldwork is not just the data gathered, but the narratives that shaped relationships – families, manning agencies, fishing companies, non-government organisations, communities – for migrant fishers to endure, and succeed, in their journeys.
Clarinda “Kookie” Gutierrez is a Cebu-based Filipino research consultant and technical writer with over 20 years of experience in development work, specialising in monitoring and evaluation, qualitative research, and community-based projects for local and international organisations.