KICK STARTING SUPER WOOD RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT IN THE PHILIPPINES

 KICK STARTING SUPER WOOD RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT IN THE PHILIPPINES

As a tropical country, the Philippines is blessed with a wide variety of hardwood species—narra, molave, kamagong, yakal, tanguile, and more. These are highly prized not only for their strength but also for their beauty. Yet imagine this: what if we could produce a type of wood even harder than hardwood? A “super wood” that is so strong it could rival steel—or even titanium—in terms of strength-to-weight ratio?

That’s no longer just science fiction. Canadian and American researchers have developed exactly that: engineered wood that’s stronger than steel, fire-resistant, pest-proof, and moisture-resistant. Unlike steel or concrete, this “super wood” is renewable, carbon-negative, and requires far less energy to produce. In tests, it has even outperformed titanium in certain applications.

Can you imagine what this could mean for the Philippine economy if we entered the field early? What kind of industries could emerge? From construction beams and cladding to aircraft interiors and car frames, the possibilities are enormous. And if we combined this with our world-class furniture design industry, our exports could skyrocket.

Now here’s the more intriguing question: what if this technology could also harden softwoods? Species like gmelina and falcata, which mature much faster than traditional hardwoods, could be densified to produce material as tough as molave. Suddenly, our fast-growing species, often undervalued, could become strategic assets. This would reduce logging pressure on slow-growing native hardwoods while creating new livelihood opportunities for agroforestry cooperatives.

And let us not forget bamboo. Bamboo already has tensile strength comparable to steel. What more could it become if treated with densification technology? We could be looking at super bamboo—lighter, stronger, and longer-lasting—perfect for resilient housing in typhoon-prone areas like ours.

So, what should we do?

First, let’s put this on the agenda of our economic diplomacy. Two Western countries—Canada and the U.S.—are already advancing super wood technology. Both are friendly to us. Why not pursue technology transfer agreements under the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) and Department of Trade and Industry (DTI)? Canada, for example, is piloting production in British Columbia. We should be talking to them now.

Second, let’s not rely solely on imports. The Department of Science and Technology (DOST), through the Forest Products Research and Development Institute (FPRDI) and the University of the Philippines Los Baños (UPLB), should spearhead our own research. This will require funding, yes, but the potential payback—in reduced steel imports, new export industries, and disaster-resilient housing—is huge.

Third, this research must be aligned with our reforestation programs. Planting fast-growing species like falcata and bamboo could serve both ecological and industrial goals. Instead of merely restoring forests, we could be building future resource banks for high-value super wood.

Finally, furniture export development should be integrated. The Philippines is already known for high-quality craftsmanship. Imagine furniture that not only looks beautiful but is lighter, stronger, and longer-lasting than anything on the market. Why should IKEA or Japan dominate this space when we could?

Of course, this requires strong inter-agency collaboration. The Department of Agriculture (DA) must coordinate with the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) for sustainable forestry practices. DOST and UPLB must lead the science. DFA and DTI must lead the diplomacy. Without coordination, this opportunity could easily slip away.

The truth is, we’ve long been behind when it comes to green industrial materials. We import most of our steel, we over-rely on cement, and we often neglect our own natural resources. Super wood could be the game-changer that allows us to build stronger, greener, and cheaper.

So, here’s my question: will we wait until other countries dominate the technology and simply become buyers again? Or will we finally seize the chance to lead, at least in Asia, in super wood research and development?

If Canada and the U.S. can do it, so can we. But only if we start now.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-23-2025

NO MORE ACCIDENT-PRONE AREAS

 NO MORE ACCIDENT-PRONE AREAS

Can we replace “accident prone areas” with “zero accident zones”? Or why not just call them “accident-free areas”?

My brother Rey, an architect and town planner in New Jersey, says it can be done. Roads, bridges, walkways, overpasses—these can all be designed and built so they are not inherently dangerous. If we do that, there would be no need for signs declaring “accident prone area ahead.” Why warn people of danger if we could eliminate the danger in the first place?

Rey is right: it’s a matter of standards. The right slope for a curve, the right depth for drainage, the right lighting, the right barriers—these are not mysteries. Engineers and architects already know what to do. The problem, as always, is corruption. If corners are cut, materials downgraded, and inspections skipped, we end up with roads that are unsafe by design. So I conclude: the problem is not technical, it is political.

If only we had the political will, we could make our public spaces “accident free.” And why not? In Europe, the “Vision Zero” movement is already transforming cities. Sweden, where it started, aims for zero road deaths by focusing not just on driver behavior but on system design: safer intersections, roundabouts instead of blind curves, barriers to separate cars from pedestrians and bicycles. In the Philippines, meanwhile, we continue to live with signs that practically admit defeat: “Accident Prone Area.”

Shouldn’t we demand better?

Let me offer a framework for what we might call Zero Accident Zones. This isn’t pie in the sky—it’s practical and doable if we involve both government and communities.

1. Community Hazard Mapping. At the barangay level, people know where the dangers are: the blind corner with no mirror, the road that floods every rain, the alley that is pitch-dark at night. Why not mobilize barangays to conduct participatory safety audits? This way, hazards that don’t show up in official statistics will still be addressed.

2. Smarter Infrastructure. Guardrails, rumble strips, convex mirrors, solar street lights, and reflective paint are not expensive. Drainage that actually drains is even cheaper than repeated repairs after floods. If DPWH and LGUs simply commit to these basics, half the battle is won.

3. Behavior and Enforcement. Let’s not kid ourselves—some accidents are caused by reckless drivers. But instead of depending only on punishment after the fact, barangays could hold short defensive driving workshops, especially for tricycle and jeepney drivers. We could post gamified signage—humorous, colorful, memorable—designed with schools and local artists. Imagine a “Drive Slow, Save a Life” mural painted by the youth themselves.

4. Governance Innovation. What if each LGU passed an ordinance requiring annual safety audits and accident data transparency? What if barangays formed “Safe Zone Committees” where youth and senior citizens join hands to monitor hazards? Safety should not be left only to engineers and politicians—it should be everyone’s business.

5. Tech and Monitoring. Even low-cost solutions can help. Mobile apps or community text hotlines could allow residents to report near-miss incidents. Open-source maps could visualize these “almost accidents” before they become tragedies.

6. Climate-Responsive Design. In hillside barangays, landslides and flooding compound the risks. We need permeable paving, bioengineered slopes, and clear evacuation routes. In coastal areas, storm surge warnings must be integrated with road safety systems.

Now let me ask: what is stopping us from doing all these? The answer, once again, is political will. Funds exist. The technology exists. The manpower exists. What is often missing is leadership that values lives over kickbacks.

To put things in perspective, the World Health Organization (WHO) reports that over 10,000 Filipinos die each year in road crashes—a figure higher than deaths from some natural disasters. Road crashes are among the leading causes of death for young people in the country. Do we just shrug and put up more “accident prone” signs?

We deserve roads and communities where parents don’t worry every time their children walk to school, where commuters don’t fear jeepneys on sharp curves, and where drivers are not set up to fail by poor design.

Yes, we can and should demand “Zero Accident Zones.” If other countries can do it, why not the Philippines?

The real question is: will our leaders stop treating accidents as inevitable, and start treating safety as non-negotiable? Until then, those “accident prone” signs will remain—not warnings of fate, but symbols of failure.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-22-2025

LET’S REVIVE OUR SWAMPLANDS

  LET’S REVIVE OUR SWAMPLANDS

There is an emerging movement in Europe to revive swamplands—more popularly known as wetlands. And why not? These natural ecosystems that once flourished have been drained, converted, and in many cases abandoned, especially after being turned into fishponds that later proved unprofitable. Today, a good number of these fishponds stand idle and useless. Why not put them back to good use? And what better use is there than to restore them to their original, natural state?

Some experts call this process rewetting. Others call it rewilding. Whatever name you prefer, the principle is the same: to heal the land by allowing water and nature to reclaim what was once theirs. In Europe, the movement has gained so much ground that it is now part of the European Union’s Nature Restoration Law. By 2030, at least 30% of drained wetlands are set for revival, with a quarter of them to undergo actual rewetting. By 2050, half of Europe’s damaged wetlands must be “healed.” That’s not wishful thinking—it’s law.

Why this push? For many centuries, farmers in Europe drained swamps to create farmland. It seemed logical at the time: land for crops and animals meant food security. But here’s the catch—draining wetlands releases huge amounts of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. According to scientists, peatlands and wetlands, although covering only about 3% of the Earth’s surface, store twice as much carbon as all the world’s forests combined. Imagine that! When they are drained, these carbon sinks turn into carbon sources, fueling climate change instead of helping fight it.

Europe’s decision to restore wetlands is not just about saving wildlife. It’s about survival. Rewetting captures carbon, reduces the risk of flooding, and ensures cleaner water. It also revives biodiversity—birds, insects, and plants that thrive only in such environments. No wonder some experts call wetlands “nature’s superheroes.”

Now, the big question: why can’t we do the same here in the Philippines?

Our country is no stranger to wetlands. We have the Candaba Swamp in Pampanga, the Agusan Marsh in Mindanao, and countless mangrove swamps along our coasts. Unfortunately, many of these areas have been drained, filled, or converted into fishponds, subdivisions, or commercial areas. The result? More flooding, less fish, poorer water quality, and greater vulnerability to climate change.

Think about this: every rainy season, Metro Manila drowns in floodwater. Billions are lost in damages, lives are disrupted, and the government spends huge sums on flood control. Yet nature itself once provided us with free and effective flood mitigation systems—our swamplands. Restoring even part of them could help reduce floods naturally, just as rewetting is now doing in Europe.

But flood control is only one part of the picture. Wetlands are also vital for food security. They are nurseries for fish, crabs, shrimps, and other aquatic life. They filter water, recharge groundwater, and provide livelihoods for local communities. In many coastal towns, mangrove swamps used to be sources of crabs and shrimps until they were cleared for aquaculture. When those fishponds failed, they were left abandoned—just wasted land. Wouldn’t it make sense to revive them as functioning wetlands once again?

There is also a climate argument here. If the EU sees swampland restoration as key to cutting greenhouse gas emissions, why shouldn’t we? The Philippines is one of the most climate-vulnerable countries in the world. We bear the brunt of typhoons, floods, and droughts. Restoring wetlands could be one of the cheapest and most effective nature-based solutions available to us.

Of course, questions arise. Who will lead such efforts? Should it be the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR)? Or should local governments take the initiative, especially since they directly feel the consequences of flooding? Perhaps the Department of Agriculture (DA) also has a role to play, since many fishponds and farmland overlap with wetlands. And what about financing? Europe is offering incentives and compensation to farmers who give up drained lands. Can we do the same?

In truth, reviving swamplands is not just about the environment. It is about restoring community-based livelihoods. Fisherfolk, farmers, and indigenous peoples who depend on wetlands stand to gain the most. Ecotourism opportunities could also open up. Imagine Agusan Marsh becoming a model eco-park that attracts local and foreign tourists, while also functioning as a carbon sink and flood control system.

We have a chance to learn from Europe’s bold initiative. The EU wants to restore 20% of its land and sea areas by 2030. Why can’t we aim for something similar? Instead of endlessly pouring funds into costly flood control structures, why not invest in nature’s own solutions? Reviving our swamplands could be one of the smartest climate, food security, and livelihood strategies we can adopt.

In the end, the choice is simple: do we continue fighting against nature with concrete and dredging, or do we work with nature by reviving the ecosystems that once protected us? Europe has made its decision. Maybe it’s time we make ours.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-21-2025

FILIPINO TINY HOMES, ANYONE?

 FILIPINO TINY HOMES, ANYONE?

Perhaps I should just say that the idea of tiny homes is nothing new in the Philippines. After all, we have always had our own versions—the bahay-kubo in the rural areas and the barong-barong in our informal settlements. Long before Americans coined the term “tiny home,” Filipinos were already living small, simple, and sustainable.

And if you ask me, I will tell you that there has always been a market for tiny homes here, because the smaller a house is, the more low-income families could afford it. Let’s be honest: housing affordability has always been one of our biggest problems. Millions of Filipinos live without secure housing, while real estate prices keep climbing. Tiny homes may not be the complete solution, but they could be a strong part of the answer.

Of course, some may recall that one local developer was once jokingly accused of selling “bahay-ibon” because the units were so small. That was satire, yes, but it reflects the tension between affordability and livability. The trick is to design tiny homes that are small yet functional, sustainable yet affordable.

Are Tiny Homes Just a Fad?

Having said all that, allow me to conclude that tiny homes, as marketed in the West, are still very much a product of American culture—perhaps even a fad, like the “pet rock” craze of the 1970s. But will tiny homes succeed here in the Philippines? My answer is yes, provided we adapt the idea to our own realities. It’s a matter of defining what counts as a tiny home, and most importantly, creating the legal basis for it.

Globally, a tiny home typically ranges from 18 to 54 square meters. In the U.S., some are built on trailers and marketed as mobile homes. In the Philippines, mobility may not be the key feature; affordability and durability should be. My fearless forecast is that sooner or later, this trend will become widely acceptable, especially in urban and peri-urban areas.

Policy and Financing Must Catch Up

The problem is not the lack of interest—it’s the lack of policy. The Department of Human Settlements and Urban Development (DHSUD) should already be thinking of how to include tiny homes in its social housing programs. Likewise, PAG-IBIG should allow its members to borrow money to build or buy tiny homes. The banks should move faster too, by offering flexible micro-mortgages.

Why is this important? Because tiny homes can help address the country’s housing backlog, which according to government estimates could hit 6.5 million units by 2030. Traditional large-scale housing projects alone won’t close that gap. We need innovations—small, affordable, modular units that can be deployed quickly.

The Filipino Twist

Here is my own twist: our version of tiny homes should be tied to the circular economy and the green economy. That means using recycled materials—like reclaimed wood, upcycled steel, or even old shipping containers. It also means using renewable resources, like bamboo and farmed wood, which are abundant in the Philippines.

In fact, we already have innovators leading the way. Startups like CUBO Modular are building prefab bamboo homes, as small as 15 sqm, that are stylish, sustainable, and suited to tropical climates. They can be built in days, not months. Tiny eco-cabins are also popping up in resorts from Siargao to Palawan, catering to tourists who want minimalist yet eco-friendly stays. If it works for Airbnb rentals, why not for permanent housing?

Cost is another factor. A DIY tiny home in the Philippines can be built for ₱150,000 to ₱800,000, depending on design and materials. Contractor-built modular units cost around ₱17,000 to ₱25,000 per sqm. Compare that with the millions required for traditional houses in gated subdivisions, and you see why tiny homes could empower more families to become homeowners.

Tiny Homes for Disaster Resilience

Here’s another angle: tiny homes could be part of disaster recovery housing. Every year, typhoons displace thousands of families. What if we had a stock of modular, quickly deployable tiny homes—ready to serve as temporary or even permanent shelters? In the U.S., inmates in West Virginia are actually building tiny homes for hurricane survivors. Why can’t we do the same here, perhaps through TESDA training programs?

A Home is Still a Home

At the end of the day, a home does not have to be big to be meaningful. A bahay-kubo may be small, but it is dignified, functional, and sustainable. If we apply the same spirit today—blending cultural tradition with modern design—tiny homes could help solve our housing crisis while promoting green living.

So, Filipino tiny homes, anyone? I think the time has come.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-20-2025

SHOULD BIODIVERSITY BECOME A CABINET CLUSTER?

 SHOULD BIODIVERSITY BECOME A CABINET CLUSTER?

Once upon a time, we had the Parks and Wildlife Bureau (PAWB). The very name already suggested its limits: just parks and wildlife. Then came the change into the Biodiversity Management Bureau (BMB)—a much broader term that covers not just wildlife but the entire spectrum of our environmental and natural assets: forests, mountains, rivers, oceans, wetlands, skies, and everything in between.

But here’s the question: does the new name truly encompass the full scope of its mandate?

Biodiversity is not just about trees and animals. It is about life systems—how forests protect watersheds, how mangroves shield coasts, how coral reefs sustain fisheries, and how every species, no matter how small, plays a role in the health of the whole. The Philippines, being one of the world’s megadiverse countries, should treat biodiversity not as a side issue, but as a core concern of national governance.

Is BMB Strong Enough?

The BMB has impressive functions on paper. It manages protected areas under the National Integrated Protected Areas System (RA 11038). It enforces the Wildlife Act (RA 9147). It develops the Philippine Biodiversity Strategy and Action Plan (PBSAP 2024–2040), which now sets ambitious goals: protecting 24% of our land and 16% of our seas by 2040, aiming for “zero extinction” of key species like the Philippine eagle and the dugong.

It also oversees the Coastal and Marine Ecosystems Management Program, promotes biodiversity-friendly enterprises, and conducts research with academic partners. Recently, the DENR even announced that Nature-Based Solutions (NbS) will become part of national policy for climate adaptation.

But here’s the catch: does the BMB have enough powers like the NBI has in criminal justice? Environmental crimes are rampant—illegal logging, wildlife trafficking, destructive fishing, encroachment on protected areas. Yet one forest ranger is tasked to guard 7,000 hectares of forest, when the ideal is 1,000 hectares per ranger. Many rangers risk their lives without proper pay, equipment, or backup.

So I ask: does the BMB even have real police powers? If yes, do they have the manpower to enforce them? If no, should Congress give them that mandate? After all, what good are conservation laws if we cannot enforce them?

The Need for Inter-Agency Cooperation

Another question: Can the BMB enter into cooperation agreements with the Coast Guard, the Navy, or the Maritime Police? After all, much of our biodiversity lies in our seas. Illegal fishing and poaching are maritime crimes. Why should the BMB stand alone?

And what about cooperation with BFAR (for fisheries), UP Marine Science Institute (for research), DA and DAR (for agricultural land use), and DOST (for science-based monitoring)? Even the DILG should be on board, since LGUs are the first line of enforcement.

Does the BMB have access to the data of PSA, NEDA, NAMRIA, and PHILSAT? Biodiversity governance requires good data—maps, statistics, forecasts. Without data, we are flying blind.

Why Not a Cabinet Cluster?

We have Cabinet clusters for security, economic development, and climate change adaptation. Should we not also have a Cabinet Cluster on Biodiversity?

Think about it. Biodiversity touches everything: food security, water supply, energy, disaster risk reduction, public health, even tourism. Protecting mangroves is cheaper than building sea walls. Healthy forests prevent floods. Coral reefs bring in billions in fisheries and tourism. A Cabinet cluster would elevate biodiversity to the level of national policy priority, ensuring collaboration across agencies.

A Call for Bold Action

Let’s not forget: the Philippines is losing biodiversity fast. Deforestation continues, invasive species spread, wetlands shrink, coral reefs bleach. Every year, we lose species that may never come back. The BMB is doing what it can, but with limited manpower and budget, the task is overwhelming.

I believe the solution is threefold:

1. Strengthen the BMB’s legal mandate—give it clearer enforcement powers, backed by funding.
   
   

2. Institutionalize inter-agency cooperation—from the Coast Guard to LGUs to universities.
   
   

3. Elevate biodiversity to a Cabinet-level concern—because it is too important to be left as “just another bureau.”
   
   

The late National Scientist Dr. Angel Alcala once said, “Biodiversity is life itself.” If that is true, then should not life itself be at the center of governance?

So I ask again: Should biodiversity become a Cabinet cluster?

For me, the answer is yes.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres
iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-19-2025