Importing salt

I was surprised to learn two weeks ago that we are importing 93 percent of our salt requirements of 550,000 metric tons from China and Australia. Such a simple ingredient for food processing and for other industrial uses, but we can’t produce enough of it.

Yet, we are an archipelago of 7,100 islands with a coastline of about 10,850 statute miles, twice as long as that of continental United States.The sea and all the salt in it are all around us, but like fish, we are importing our needs. Is there anything we can produce and not have to import other than corrupt and incompetent officials?

When I was growing up, I was fascinated to see the salt beds in Las Piñas and Parañaque on our way to the beaches along the Manila Bay shoreline. Yes, the beaches there were clean enough to swim in at that time.

I guess all those salt beds are now subdivisions. After all, Sen. Cynthia Villar said land in Las Piñas is now very expensive. And the beaches are gone. Manila Bay is now a cesspool that is dangerous to the health of anyone who dares swim or even wade along its shores.

When I posted on social media my thoughts on importing salt, I got comments that seem to indicate I was not the only one surprised and disgusted. Apparently, the death of our salt industry can be blamed on Republic Act 8172 or also known as the “Act for Salt Iodization Nationwide” or the Asin Law.

The Asin law was passed in 1995 with the good intention of addressing health needs of some of our people, specially in upland areas, who lack iodine in their diet. That results in thyroid problems among others.

The Asin Law requires local producers to shift to iodized salt production. Salt producers figured it was too much trouble to iodize the salt. Salt making is a backyard industry and the small-scale producers do not have the financial and technical means to comply, so they just abandoned the business.

My colleague Stella Arnaldo, who writes on tourism and food, explained in an article she wrote back in 2017 why the Asin Law was bad news to the local culinary industry, as well as food processors. While iodized salt isn’t exactly poison, it isn’t as good as ordinary rock salt.

Stella interviewed a popular Filipino chef who raised the alarm on the non-foodgrade salt being imported and sold commercially in our market. Chef Myke “Tatung” Sarthou told Stella that “if you notice, this salt doesn’t melt even when you cook it, because it’s meant for soap, and to make other industrial products (like dyes, plastics, polyester, etc.).

“So, even if you keep adding it to your dish, it has no effect. Our export clusters are experiencing problems because many countries refuse to allow the entry of products containing iodized salt. They prefer natural salt.”

Salt is being used not only for food, but also for agriculture, manufacturing, and pharmaceuticals. Essentially, it is a criminal act to sell natural salt.

While there are a few natural salt retailers that sell openly in specialty weekend markets, Sarthou said they do so with a lot of risk. If they are caught, their business permits will be revoked and they will be fined anywhere from P1,000 to P100,000. Local restaurants are required to serve only iodized salt.

I was in Bohol two months ago on the invitation of Panglao Bluewater Resort. That was when I was introduced to Bohol’s asin tibuok or “unbroken salt.” It is an oval piece of salt inside a mold looking like an ostrich egg.

The salt making facility is located in the town of Albuquerque in Bohol. Because of the ASIN Law, the asinderos aren’t allowed to sell their products locally, but they are approved for export.

We have a strange government with strange laws. I noticed an ad in Lazada that sells the Bohol Tibuok salt for P1,704.22. Hmm… interesting that Lazada seems exempted.

Other than Bohol, Stella wrote about old women boiling seawater until only the salt remains. “In places like Guimaras, for instance, the salt is boiled with gata or coconut milk, then formed into blocks called tultul or dukdok in Capiz.

Chef Myke pointed out the importance of salt in Filipino dishes, including fermenting seafood to make bagoong, dried fish, and for processing tinapa.

But he told Stella, the proliferation of non-foodgrade salt had an impact on the small makers of bagoong and tinapa. Using industrial-grade salt in these food processes lowers the quality of traditional food products, making them less palatable to consumers.

What is it with us and our politicians that prevents us from doing what is right? Even in the presence of good intentions, unwanted unintended consequences happen.

Our problem is over regulation. Markets should always be given a choice. Banning one product to favor another for the same purpose doesn’t work. Iodized and natural salt should be able to coexist.

If at all, the government should just limit the compulsory use of iodized salt in the mountain and inland areas where it is needed, and heavily subsidize its price so that it will be chosen over natural salt by those who need it most.

Congress should amend or repeal the Salt Act because of its negative unintended consequences. Our problem is we have too many lawmakers with so much time on their hands. They should have left salt alone.

It is embarrassing to try to explain to foreign friends why we are importing salt and why we can’t produce our own salt from the seas around our archipelago. Or why we are importing fish.

Or why sugar is more expensive here. That’s because the industry leaders salted dollars in foreign banks. Those dollars were made when exporting sugar made sugar barons disgustingly rich. But that’s another story.

For now, let’s think about how odd it is that our archipelagic country must import salt. No Filipino can be proud of that.

Boo Chanco’s email address is [email protected]. Follow him on Twitter @boochanco