Tilapia, a history
Los Baños, Laguna—I’ve always thought of tilapia as local fish and tilapia as a local word. Growing up here in Laguna, I would spend summer vacations with my cousins in our grandparents’ house in San Pablo, and tilapia—likely from nearby Sampaloc Lake—was a usual part of our meals. It came in all kinds of preparations, from ginataan to pinto, and our ever-experimental Lola Rosing loved trying out new recipes. But I especially liked it inihaw, or when our Lolo Delio or Ate Cely would simply grill it in charcoal under the rambutan and lanzones trees, wrapped in banana leaves.
This is why I was shocked when, years later, after I excitedly ordered “St. Peter’s fish” in one of those touristic restaurants in the Sea of Galilee on a trip to the Holy Land, the server came with something uncannily similar to the fish I had always known, except without the usual sawsawan of toyo, kalamansi, and siling labuyo leaving it, in my opinion, somewhat bland.
As I would soon find out, tilapia is not a local term; it may have been derived—centuries ago—from one of the Bantu languages in Southern Africa (“tlhapi”), or from a mix of Greek and Latin (“tilon” + “apios”). Neither is it a local fish but native to Africa and the Middle East, with its cultivation and consumption documented in Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. Tilapia have indeed inhabited the Sea of Galilee since Biblical times, even if the one I tried was probably not the same species as the ones we have in Laguna.
What’s even more shocking to me is the relatively recent introduction of tilapia to the Philippines and elsewhere. As recalled by pioneering scientists like the academician Rafael Guerrero III, it was only in 1950 when the first tilapia species—the Mozambique tilapia (Oreochromis mossambicus)—was brought to the Philippines. This species, however, was not well received by producers and consumers alike, and it was only in 1972 when the Nile tilapia—Oreochromis niloticus—was introduced to the country, via Thailand (where it had been introduced just six years prior), with much (and enduring) success.
At that time, amid global (and national) concern over malnutrition, inland aquaculture was seen as a cost-effective means to boost protein intake especially among poor countries, Nile tilapia emerged as a most suitable candidate. In the words of researchers Abdel-Fattah El-Sayed and Kevin Fitzsimmons (2023):
“Nile tilapia are highly adapted to tropical, subtropical, and temperate environments. They are characterized by their fast growth rates, tolerance to extreme environmental conditions, high resistance to stress and diseases, trophic plasticity and feeding on low trophic levels, and their ability to reproduce in captivity. These attributes made them an ideal candidate for aquaculture all over the globe.”
The local scientific literature reflects the rapid dominance of tilapia: In 1976, an article in the Philippine Journal of Fisheries reported that terapon (gunggong) and white goby (biyang puti) were the major fishes of Laguna de Bay; and a 1985 publication by Philippine Council for Agriculture and Resources Reseach and Development would recall that ”as recently as the mid-1970s, tilapia … were generally regarded as a nuisance fish by producers and a low quality product by consumers.” By the 1980s, however, it was estimated that the country was producing 50,000 tons of tilapia annually.
Interestingly, the Philippines has been heavily involved in tilapia aquaculture, including the development of the Genetically Improved Farmed Tilapia, initiated in 1988 by WorldFish together with Filipino and Norwegian researchers. Nutritionists and economists continue to welcome the rise of tilapia—now next only to carp and salmon in global importance—but scientists also consider tilapia to be “invasive” species that can affect native fish, as it has done in various ecosystems from China to Zimbabwe.
“To be fair,” environmental advocate Gregg Yan and aquaculture consultant Jonah van Beijnen wrote, “some of these invaders—like tilapia and catfish—have over time become staple commodities, feeding millions of Filipinos and employing thousands in the local aquaculture sector.”
Indeed, even the Wikipedia page of tilapia calls it a “traditional” fish in the Philippines, and the fish has found its place in the menu, from Manam’s “Butterflied Pla Pla with Buro and Mustasa” to Mesa’s “Crispy Boneless Tilapia,” even though I know some seniors who still find tilapia strange and unpalatable. Would there be a similar changing of fates among the more recently introduced species in our waters, such as the much-reviled janitor fish?
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That this mini-history may come as a surprise is a reminder that we operate on a very limited historical scale in our everyday lives; there is a presumption of always-been-thereness of the things around us, whether words, practices, flora, or fauna.
I don’t such a recognition would make tilapia any more (or less) palatable, but perhaps it can make us rethink concepts like “local,” traditional,” “native,” “invasive,” and even “indigenous.” Indeed, a more-than-human history can make us reconsider the assumptions we have of our past and make us apprehend a multispecies world that is always in flux—and far more fascinating.
