The Panamanian government has temporarily closed Isla Escudo de Veraguas to all human activity, effectively barring the Indigenous Ngöbe-Buglé people from their last ancestral fishing grounds. Officials enacted the one-year closure in October 2025, citing conservation needs to protect the island’s unique biodiversity. This action occurs just seven miles from a large-scale industrial fish farm that continues to operate without similar restrictions, raising questions about the equity of Panama’s environmental enforcement.
Government representatives descended on the area in September, confiscating basic fishing gear like snorkels and flippers from Ngöbe-Buglé fishers. Community leaders report the loss of subsistence fishing access now threatens food security for their people. The Ministry of Environment, when asked for comment, pointed to broader issues like development projects and climate change as factors in the historic displacement of Indigenous communities but did not address the gear confiscation directly.
“We only dedicate ourselves to our ancestral way of fishing,” Alfonso Simón Raylan, an Indigenous fishing leader, said in a television interview. [Translated from Spanish]
The complete closure marks a significant escalation from previous management. A 2009 resolution first incorporated the island into Panama’s National System of Protected Areas, which had limited the Ngöbe-Buglé to fishing only from March to June each year while allowing them to continue co-managing the territory with the government.
Cultural and Subsistence Ties to the Land
For the Ngöbe-Buglé, the island represents far more than a source of food. It holds a profound place in their cultural and spiritual identity, a connection that they argue has fostered their role as its natural stewards. Their fishing practices have remained small-scale and subsistence-based for generations, relying on diving and small traps rather than the large, mechanized boats used in commercial operations.
“This island is associated with one of our gods that is related directly to our language that we speak, and so the language that we speak and the island are connected in this mythology,” explained Maximo Jimenez Palacio, President of the Regional Congress governing the Ngöbe-Buglé people. [Translated from Spanish]
This deep cultural significance, Palacio says, is the very reason their community has never pursued extractive fishing methods that could damage the ecosystem. The government’s new policy, however, treats their ancestral practices as a threat comparable to industrial tourism or commercial fishing. Estefanía Narváez, a media coordinator for the fishers, confirms the community is now struggling to feed itself as a direct result of the closure, a situation that puts immense pressure on the indigenous people and their traditional way of life.
Industrial Aquaculture Operates Under Different Standards
While the Ngöbe-Buglé face a total ban, the large Open-ocean aquaculture facility named Open Blue Cobia continues its operations unimpeded a short distance away. The farm, which opened in 2009, produces approximately 1,200 tons of cobia fish each year within 22 massive sea pens. Its product is primarily exported to markets in the United States, China, and Europe.
Open Blue promotes its operations as a model of sustainable food production. The company states its farm is located within a 2,500-acre no-take zone and benefits from strong ocean currents that disperse waste. Its corporate sustainability commitment claims that independent monitoring shows no traceable impact on the marine environment. Requests for access to these monitoring reports, however, have gone unanswered.
Environmental scientists have long noted that waste from such facilities, even in high-current areas, can travel significant distances. A foundational 2009 study on the subject confirmed that fish waste and excess feed from pens can disperse far beyond the immediate farm site. This nutrient pollution can contribute to algal blooms that damage local sea life, though no major blooms have been publicly reported near Isla Escudo de Veraguas.
The farm’s operation also raises questions about resource equity. Cobia are carnivorous fish, requiring a diet of fish meal and fish oil typically sourced from massive catches of small, wild fish like anchovies and sardines. This practice can reduce a critical food source for coastal communities worldwide, often forcing local fishers to seek work elsewhere. The contrast is stark. A community using simple gear for subsistence is locked out, while a company engaged in industrial production for export continues to operate nearby. This situation highlights a recurring tension in how governments manage protected areas, sometimes applying stricter rules to traditional users than to commercial enterprises.
A History of Conflict Reaches a Tipping Point
The current dispute is not an isolated incident but the latest chapter in a long-standing struggle over land and resource control between the Ngöbe-Buglé and the Panamanian government. For decades, the community has fought to maintain its rights and stewardship role in the face of expanding state control and commercial interests.
The government’s recent actions suggest a hardening of its position. The confiscation of gear and the shift from a seasonal co-management model to a full closure indicates a new level of exclusion. Officials have not publicly detailed a plan for how the Ngöbe-Buglé are expected to sustain themselves during this closure period, nor have they explained why the industrial open blue farm is not subject to a similar level of environmental scrutiny. This approach is consistent with other state actions against protected areas where traditional livelihoods are often the first to be restricted.
With their last ancestral fishing ground now officially off-limits, the Ngöbe-Buglé face a precarious future. The community’s leadership continues to advocate for the recognition of their rights and the validity of their conservation role. They argue that their presence and traditional practices are not the cause of environmental degradation but are instead part of the long-term solution for preserving a fragile ecosystem. The government’s next steps, following this one-year closure, will be closely watched. Its decision will signal whether Panama’s conservation model will continue to marginalize its original inhabitants or finally integrate their knowledge and rights into a truly sustainable framework. The situation echoes challenges faced in other development projects, similar to those mentioned by officials in a september address before the National Assembly, where balancing modernization with social equity remains a central, and often unresolved, conflict.