LET’S SYNCHRONIZE MANILA BAY RECLAMATION, REHABILITATION AND FLOOD CONTROL

LET’S SYNCHRONIZE MANILA BAY RECLAMATION, REHABILITATION AND FLOOD CONTROL

Why is it that in this country, when we are clearly dealing with different parts of the same ecosystem, the government cannot seem to synchronize its efforts? Manila Bay is a perfect example. Here we have three interconnected concerns—reclamation, rehabilitation, and flood control. Yet each is being pursued in silos, as if they are unrelated.

This is not a new issue. In fact, it was left hanging when Secretary Maria Antonia Yulo-Loyzaga was replaced by Secretary Raphael Lotilla at the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR). So now I ask: what is Secretary Lotilla going to do about this? I hope he sees the wisdom of synchronizing these three parts of the puzzle, because without harmony, none of them will succeed.

Take reclamation. The last we heard, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. ordered the suspension of 22 reclamation projects in Manila Bay pending a “cumulative impact assessment.” Good move—but what’s the status now? Are they still suspended? If so, who exactly is reviewing them? And more importantly, what criteria will be used for approval? Which NGOs and government agencies (NGAs) are being consulted?

From where I sit, Manila Bay rehabilitation and Manila Bay reclamation are simply two sides of the same coin. If that’s true, why can’t their objectives be reconciled? Rehabilitation is driven by developmental goals—clean water, restored ecosystems, livable communities. Reclamation, on the other hand, is often driven by commercial interests—more land, more business opportunities, more profit.

Here’s my take: whenever commercial and developmental goals conflict, the latter should always prevail. Otherwise, we’ll end up with fancy business districts rising from dirty, flood-prone waters—a showcase of progress on the surface, but decay underneath.

I must also raise a thorny point about reclamation rights. Developers may not agree with me, but I firmly believe that government should retain perpetual ownership of all reclaimed land. Leasing, yes. Selling, no. If private developers want to build, let them build. They can own the structures, but not the land.

This is exactly how Ayala Corporation has played it in the Makati Central Business District. Ayala remains the perpetual owner of the land, while everyone else is merely a lessee. And yet, businesses thrive, and Ayala remains wealthy—not because it sold the land, but because it continues to earn from it in perpetuity.

Why can’t the government adopt this model? Imagine the state becoming richer from land leasing, instead of perpetually dependent on taxes to fund its operations. Citizens could even see reduced tax burdens, while the government gains a steady, renewable stream of income.

Better yet, the national government should help local governments adopt the same principle. LGUs could become long-term land developers, while they retain ownership of public lands and using private capital to fund development. If Ayala can do it, why can’t Quezon City, Manila, or Pasay?

Of course, this is hindsight, but the government should have done this with Fort Bonifacio properties. Instead, much of that land was sold outright, and now the value has multiplied many times over—for private hands. The state gained a one-time windfall but lost perpetual wealth.

It may be too late for Fort Bonifacio, but it is not too late for Manila Bay. Nor is it too late for future reclamations nationwide. The principle is simple: government retains perpetual ownership, private sector invests and develops, citizens benefit from better services and less tax pressure.

But all this must start with synchronization. Reclamation, rehabilitation, and flood control cannot be separated. They must be designed to work together. Otherwise, we’ll be like Rep. Marissa Magsino said during the appropriations hearing—confused and dizzy, wondering what should come first: clean water or more land.

In truth, both can coexist—but only if we plan wisely, enforce strictly, and prioritize the public good over private gain. Secretary Lotilla now can prove that the DENR can lead this balancing act. The question is: will he?

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

11-01-2025 

REINVENTING THE RETIREMENT RESORTS

REINVENTING THE RETIREMENT RESORTS

If we are serious about competing in the global market for foreign retirees, we must first accept a simple truth: you cannot sell what you do not have. Just like in tourism, where the foundation of the product is the “hotel room,” in the retirement market, the product we should be selling is the retirement resort. Without an inventory of retirement resort rooms, we have nothing concrete to offer, no matter how aggressive the promotion.

The problem is that retirement living is still lumped under “tourism.” But is it really tourism? Not at all. Tourists come to visit, retirees come to stay. A retiree is not a temporary guest but a potential resident, someone who will invest the rest of their life here. Shouldn’t that merit a category of its own?

Of course, the entry point might look like tourism. A prospect may come first as a tourist, attracted by beaches, golf courses, or even “medical tourism.” They might try out a wellness spa or a sports facility. But then, once they see the lifestyle, the affordability, and the community, they begin to think: “Why not live here permanently?”

That’s where we miss out. While countries like Thailand already have retirement villages and care resorts that feel more like boutique hotels than hospitals, we are still scrambling to classify retirement under the Department of Tourism, without the physical infrastructure to back it up.

What we need are purpose-driven retirement communities—not just places to “grow old,” but places to live fully. The global trend is moving away from passive care facilities toward vibrant, resort-style living. Imagine retirement villages with yoga studios, art workshops, community gardens, aquaponics for food, and even intergenerational learning hubs. Retirees are not necessarily sick when they move in. Many are still healthy, active, and looking for purpose. Only later, as the years pass, will they require more medical care.

Shouldn’t we prepare now for this?

Consider the opportunities:

·       Returning overseas Filipinos who have savings and want to invest in micro-enterprises.

·       Foreign retirees who are looking not just for affordable healthcare, but also for lifestyle, community, and meaning.

·       Local barangays that could benefit from new jobs and circular economies if they host eco-villages or farm-based resorts.

I can imagine a barangay-scale retirement eco-village where waste is turned into modular housing, gardens provide both food and therapy, and retirees mentor the youth in farming, crafts, or even digital skills. Why not combine a retirement resort with a farm school? Why not make it both a livelihood hub and a wellness community?

We already have some legal basis. The Philippine Retirement Authority (PRA) was created by Executive Order No. 1037 way back in 1985 to promote the Philippines as a retirement haven. The Special Resident Retiree’s Visa (SRRV) provides retirees with indefinite stay and privileges. The Expanded Senior Citizens Act supports the creation of senior-friendly environments. In theory, the framework is there. But where are the retirement resorts?

Without actual resorts, how do we expect to convince foreigners to relocate? Can we really compete with Chiang Mai, where retirement villages are flourishing, or with eco-villages in Spain and Turkey?

The PRA itself has admitted that despite our popularity as a tourist destination, there is a “noticeable lack of dedicated retirement facilities.” This shortage is not a weakness—it is an opportunity. Investors are already building large-scale projects, like a retirement township in Cebu. But why wait for mega-developments? Why not start small? Why not pilot barangay-level models that blend resort-style living, healthcare access, and sustainability?

Even existing condominiums could be converted into retirement resorts, provided they are retrofitted for accessibility and linked to medical services. Some SRRV-accredited condos already serve as retirement residences. With the right partnerships, this could be expanded nationwide.

The bigger point is this: we must stop treating retirement living as an afterthought of tourism. Retirees are not “visitors.” They are future residents, investors, and community members. They want to be part of something larger than themselves, not isolated in hospital-like wards.

So here is my challenge: when will we reinvent retirement resorts in the Philippines? Will we wait until Thailand, Vietnam, or Malaysia takes the lion’s share of the market? Or will we seize the chance now, while we still have time, to build not just retirement facilities, but real communities—where aging is not about decline, but about living with dignity, activity, and purpose?

The choice is ours.

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

10-31-2025 

ONLINE GAMING VERSUS ONLINE GAMBLING

ONLINE GAMING VERSUS ONLINE GAMBLING

In my book, I make a distinction that not everyone agrees with: I define gaming as a game of chance, and gambling as a game of skill. That might sound counterintuitive but hear me out.

Take the lottery, for example. Many people call it gambling, but I don’t. Why? Because there is no skill involved in picking random numbers and buying a lotto ticket. The same goes for bingo. All one needs to do is buy a bingo card. If you win, it is purely because of chance, not because of any skill you exercised. That is why, in my mind, both lotto and bingo are games of chance—hence, gaming—but not gambling.

Still, I am firm in saying that even if no skill is required in lotto and bingo, there must be strict age verification. The minimum age for lotto is 18, while for bingo there seems to be no minimum at all. That, to me, is already a problem. And if we are now talking about online lotto and online bingo, then the risks are magnified. Children with access to mobile phones could easily find their way into these games if there are no safeguards. The technology to prevent this already exists--multi-factor authentication and identity checks can easily block minors from playing. So why are we not applying it more widely?

Some may wonder why I am bothering to write about what seems like a trivial topic. The reason is simple: this issue might affect the entire business of e-commerce and online payments in the Philippines. Service providers like GCash and PayMaya are not gambling operators; they are simply payment platforms. If their platforms are used for gambling-related transactions, that does not make them gambling sites. Yet, because of regulatory concerns, both GCash and PayMaya have chosen to block gambling-related payments. That is their decision, of course, but I worry that small setbacks like these could dampen the momentum of e-commerce growth in our country.

The real issue is not whether payments can pass through GCash or PayMaya. The real issue is whether the government has the will and the means to regulate online gambling properly. And here is where PAGCOR comes in.

Under Republic Act No. 9487, PAGCOR has the authority to regulate and license all forms of gambling in the Philippines, including online casinos, e-games, and sports betting. In theory, only platforms licensed by PAGCOR are legal. In practice, however, foreign online gambling platforms are raking in billions from Filipino players, tax-free.

The numbers are staggering. In 2022, Filipinos spent around ₱8 billion on foreign online gambling. By 2023, it had ballooned to ₱33 billion. In 2024, it exploded to ₱135 billion. And in just the first half of 2025, it already hit ₱106 billion, projected to exceed ₱200 billion by year’s end. That is a massive outflow of money, money that could have been taxed and used for public services but is instead enriching operators abroad.

And who are spending this money? Not wealthy high rollers in casinos, but ordinary Filipinos—students, wage earners, and low-income families—many of them lured into the promise of easy winnings.

So, what should be done? In my view, the government should focus not only on taxation but also on technology. Strict multifactor authentication should be mandatory for all online platforms offering age-restricted products or services—not just gambling, but also alcohol, adult content, and other sensitive areas. POGOs, for example, would not have been such a mess if the government had insisted on tighter data security and identity verification to ensure only real, authorized foreigners could bet.

I do not believe that banning online gambling outright will work. Whether the government likes it or not, Filipinos will continue betting online. If we cannot stop the practice, then at the very least, let us regulate it properly, tax it effectively, and protect minors from it completely.

Because if we do nothing, we lose on all fronts: families lose savings, minors are exposed to vices too early, the government loses revenue, and e-commerce platforms lose credibility.

So here is my challenge to policymakers: instead of demonizing online payments or treating e-wallets as scapegoats, why not work with them? Payment platforms could be allies in enforcing age verification, identity checks, and transaction monitoring. Done right, this could protect minors, protect the economy, and protect the integrity of our financial system.

To conclude: online gaming or gambling—whatever you call it—is here to stay. The real question is whether we let it undermine our society, or whether we take control of it with the right mix of regulation, technology, and accountability.

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

10-30-2025 

TIME TO START FISH CAGE FARMING OF TUNA IN THE PHILIPPINES

TIME TO START FISH CAGE FARMING OF TUNA IN THE PHILIPPINES

The signs are already here. Catching tuna in the wild has become more difficult. Big commercial fishing boats might still manage to chase them in deeper and more distant parts of the ocean, but what about the artisanal fishermen with small boats? They are left with fewer chances to catch tuna, which used to be abundant closer to shore.

It is not only the worsening weather due to climate change that makes fishing harder. The food of the tuna—the smaller species of fish they depend on—has also become scarce. And here lies a problem: humans eat the same species that tuna feed on. That means we are competing directly with tuna for food. The more we eat of these small fish, the less food there is for tuna, pushing them to seek other feeding grounds, farther away.

Sooner or later, a bigger problem will hit us. If the tuna catches decline further, the tuna canning industry in Mindanao—especially in General Santos City—could face closure. Thousands of workers and their families could lose their livelihoods.

This is why I say the time is now, not later, to start fish cage farming of tuna in our coastal areas. We don’t have to wait for a crisis. We should act before the collapse of the wild tuna catch happens.

Science has already shown that many species, including tuna and salmon, can grow in fish cages. Japan, Spain, and Turkey are already doing it. Why not the Philippines? As a matter of fact, technology now allows tuna to be grown even in inland containers, using recirculating aquaculture systems (RAS) with controlled temperature and salinity. This shows that tuna aquaculture is no longer just theory—it is practical, if only we have the will to make it happen.

Climate change is real, and it will not go away. If we do not adapt, we will lose one of our most important industries. We must protect our tuna sector by ensuring that supply does not run out—no matter how climate patterns change.

So what should be done? For one, the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources (BFAR), the Department of Agriculture (DA), and the Department of Science and Technology (DOST) should collaborate to pilot tuna cage farming projects. The University of the Philippines–Marine Science Institute (UP-MSI) and SEAFDEC already have the technical know-how. What is lacking is a clear national strategy and investment.

Of course, there are challenges. Fish cages cost money to build and maintain. Tuna farming requires advanced skills in hatchery management and feeding. Storms and fish kills are real risks. But these problems are not insurmountable. Norway overcame the same challenges in salmon farming. Japan pioneered tuna farming despite its complexity. If other countries can do it, why can’t we?

Perhaps we could begin with small-scale, barangay-level pilots. Imagine a cooperative of fisherfolk managing floating tuna cages in clean coastal waters. They could be supported by BFAR for training, supplied with hatchery-bred juvenile tuna from government facilities, and linked to canneries and exporters for guaranteed markets.

This would not only protect the supply chain for General Santos canneries, but also give coastal communities new sources of income. Instead of relying solely on dwindling wild catches, fisherfolk could benefit directly from the emerging tuna aquaculture sector.

We should also look at circular approaches. Waste from tuna cages could be absorbed by co-cultivating seaweeds or shellfish nearby, reducing pollution and creating additional products. Feed could be supplemented with trimmings from fish processing plants or even insect protein, reducing costs and pressure on wild stocks.

If we are serious, the Philippines could be a leader in tropical tuna aquaculture. We already have the long coastline, the skilled fisherfolk, and the scientific expertise. What we lack is coordination, investment, and the political will to make this a national priority.

I ask again: do we wait for our tuna canneries to close before we act? Do we wait for thousands of families to lose their jobs before we recognize the urgency? Or do we prepare now, while we still have the chance, by building a future where tuna is not only caught in the wild, but also grown in sustainable farms?

The answer should be clear. The time to start tuna cage farming in the Philippines is now.

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

10-29-2025 

THE PHILIPPINES SHOULD HAVE A CARBON NEUTRAL OR A NET ZERO GOAL

THE PHILIPPINES SHOULD HAVE A CARBON NEUTRAL OR A NET ZERO GOAL

Believe it or not, the Philippines is the only country in the ASEAN that has not yet set a formal carbon neutrality or net-zero target. Yes, you heard that right. Brunei, Cambodia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam, and even Indonesia have set their own timelines. Only the Philippines stands out for its absence.

What happened to us? And why has this happened? Who has been negligent? Is it the Congress? Is it the Executive Branch? Or perhaps the DOE and the Climate Change Commission? Has our mass media also overlooked this? And what about social media, with its legions of bloggers and influencers—have they been silent too? Could it be that even civil society has also overlooked this crucial matter?

The absence of a net-zero goal is not a minor oversight. It reflects something deeper—that the urgency of climate action has not yet fully entered our collective consciousness. This is very important to us now, and even more so for our children in the future.

Let’s look at our ASEAN neighbors. Most of them have committed to carbon neutrality by 2050. Thailand set its goal as 2065. Indonesia pushed its target to 2060. But all of them have declared a target year. And the Philippines? None. Not even a hint of a target.

So, should we set our goal at 2070, since we are already so late? Do you think 45 years is enough time to get there? Should we be less ambitious than Thailand, which at least has the advantage of rallying behind their King? Could it be that we have failed to muster political will, wasting our energies on endless political bickering between so many interests?

This is not supposed to be a partisan issue. Having a net-zero goal is so important that it should go beyond political lines. It should be part of our national vision, not our political debates.

But what does the record show? What have the succession of DOE Secretaries done to propose or adopt these goals? If there were already recommendations, why did they fail? Could it be that powerful lobby groups are working against net-zero commitments? If so, who are they? Are we talking about coal, oil, and gas interests?

On the other hand, what are we doing to generate more energy from alternative sources? From wind, solar, hydro, geothermal, and biogas? What about other biofuels such as those from coconut and nipa palm? These are resources we already have in abundance. Why aren’t we scaling them up?

Where is the coordination between DOE, DENR, DA, and DOST? Shouldn’t they be working together on a roadmap toward a net zero goal? Is this not a top priority in the agenda of the Cabinet, of Congress, and even of the LEDAC?

As of today, the Philippines has committed to reducing emissions by 75% by 2030 under its Nationally Determined Contribution (NDC). But here is the catch: 72% of that commitment is conditional, meaning it depends on international support such as climate finance and technology transfer. Only 2.71% is unconditional, meaning we will do it with our own resources. In other words, we are waiting for the rest of the world to help us before we act decisively.

This is not good enough. We are one of the most climate-vulnerable countries in the world. Every year, stronger typhoons and floods wipe out billions of pesos in damage. Every year, our farmers and fisherfolk bear the brunt of climate change. If any country has the moral high ground to act urgently, it is us.

So why are we not declaring a net-zero year target? Even if it is aspirational, it signals intent. It rallies government, business, and communities around a common timeline. It sends a message to the international community that we are serious, and it helps us access climate finance more effectively.

If Indonesia, so dependent on coal, can aim for 2060, why can’t we? If Vietnam, with its massive industrial growth, can commit to 2050, why can’t we?

The truth is simple: the Philippines should already have a carbon-neutral or net-zero goal. It should be part of our laws. It should be part of our national consciousness. It should be part of our children’s future.

The challenge is not technical—it is political. And until we muster the political will to rise above lobby groups and short-term interests, we will continue to be behind our neighbors, to our own peril.

So, here is my suggestion: Congress should declare a national net-zero target year by law. The DOE should draft a roadmap with inputs from DENR, DA, and DOST. The President should make it a priority agenda. And civil society, the media, and yes—even social media—should push this issue into the national conversation.

Because if we cannot even set a goal, how can we ever hope to reach it?

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

10-28-2025 

A CIRCULAR ECONOMY VERSUS A LINEAR ECONOMY

 A CIRCULAR ECONOMY VERSUS A LINEAR ECONOMY

HOW can we transition from a circular economy towards a linear economy? Wait a minute—shouldn’t it be the other way around? Exactly. I asked the question that way on purpose, because that is how most people are still living their lives—inside a linear economy—without realizing that the real challenge is to move out of it and into a circular one.

So, what is a linear economy? I ask that because I want to better understand what a circular economy is. In simple terms, the two are exact opposites. The linear economy follows a very straightforward flow: take, make, use, dispose. You extract resources, manufacture products, consume them, and then throw them away. End of story.

It sounds simple and efficient—but only in the short term. The linear model is resource-intensive, waste-generating, and unsustainable. It thrives on producing more, even if that means exhausting finite resources and filling landfills with garbage. Clearly, this model is no longer viable if our goal is long-term sustainability.

By contrast, the circular economy is regenerative. Instead of a dead-end disposal, it keeps materials in the loop—reuse, repair, recycle, redesign. Waste is minimized, resources are conserved, and products are built for durability. Sustainability is built into the system itself.

The real question now is: how do we get there? Should we change our laws? Should we even go higher and amend our Constitution? Perhaps not immediately. But very clearly, we need to change the way we do business.

The most practical place to start is with packaging. One-way packaging is the trademark of a linear economy: plastics and sachets used once and then discarded. A circular economy, on the other hand, designs packaging to be reused, refilled, or recycled. That small shift alone would drastically reduce waste in our cities.

Should laws be changed? Yes, all the way down to the local level. Quezon City has already banned one-way plastics. More cities should follow suit. But laws on paper are not enough. Implementation and innovation must go hand in hand.

Here’s where agencies like DEVDEP come in. They should review local laws and recommend how circular practices can be embedded across industries. DepEd, CHED, and TESDA should integrate circular economy concepts into their curricula—so that young people grow up with sustainability as second nature.

Congress, for its part, can pass laws requiring two-way packaging, perhaps backed by deposit-refund systems. Imagine buying a soda in a glass bottle and getting a refund when you return it, as was common in the past. That is a simple circular model we have already tried before—and abandoned too quickly in favor of plastic convenience.

Local governments should also embrace innovative solutions. Spurway Enterprises, for example, is introducing Reverse Vending Machines (RVMs)—machines that accept empty bottles or cans and give consumers a reward, such as the models distributed by Spurway Enterprises. Such initiatives not only reduce waste but also create a culture of accountability.

The government, too, can reinforce positive behavior by giving awards to companies that adopt circular packaging. Recognition, after all, is a powerful motivator in business.

But let us not leave it all to government. Communities and industries must move together. Consider the textile industry. In a linear model, fast fashion clothes are worn briefly and then dumped in landfills. In a circular model, textile scraps can be reclaimed by artisans, rewoven into new products, and sold in local markets—creating income while reducing waste.

This is where barangay-level initiatives come in. Imagine artisans reusing discarded glass, ceramics, and textiles. Imagine NGOs and schools teaching children not only how to sort waste but also how to transform it into useful products. Imagine LGUs providing space for micro-facilities where recycling and upcycling can happen. That is community-based circular economy in action.

To be clear: transitioning to a circular economy is not just about waste management. It is about rethinking the entire system. It is about moving from volume-based growth to value-based sustainability. It is about designing for longevity, not obsolescence. It is about turning consumers into co-creators of value.

The truth is, we are still stuck in the linear mindset. But the longer we wait, the more waste piles up, the more resources run dry, and the more vulnerable our economy becomes to shocks. The circular economy is not just a nice idea. It is a necessity.

So, my question remains: how do we start? Perhaps by changing our mindset, then our business practices, then our local ordinances, and eventually, our national policies. Sustainability should no longer be an option. It should be the rule of the game.

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

10-27-2025 

DNA EVIDENCE FREES INNOCENT PRISONER, CAUSES CONVICTION OF NEGLIGENT PROSECUTOR

DNA EVIDENCE FREES INNOCENT PRISONER, CAUSES CONVICTION OF NEGLIGENT PROSECUTOR

In 1986, Michael Morton was convicted of murdering his wife in Texas. He spent nearly 25 years in prison for a crime he did not commit. What set him free? DNA evidence found on a bandana near the crime scene—evidence that had been there all along but was never properly considered.

The real killer, Mark Alan Norwood, was eventually identified through that DNA. By then, Morton had already lost decades of his life behind bars. It’s a story that should shake us all.

But here’s where the case becomes extraordinary. The prosecutor, Ken Anderson, who later even became a judge, was found guilty of misconduct. He had withheld exculpatory evidence—including the testimony of Morton’s young son, who said his father was not present at the time of the murder, and a neighbor’s report of a suspicious man near the house. These details could have saved Morton from wrongful conviction, but Anderson chose not to disclose them.

This was not a mistake. It was negligence, perhaps arrogance. And it came at a terrible cost.

In a historic ruling, Anderson himself was punished. He was sentenced to jail time, fined, required to do community service, removed from the bench, and disbarred. Imagine that—the prosecutor who sent an innocent man to prison ended up in prison himself, even if only for a short period. This was the first time in U.S. history that a prosecutor was jailed for such misconduct.

But the story does not end with Morton’s release or Anderson’s disgrace. Out of this tragedy came reform. In 2013, Texas passed the Michael Morton Act, a landmark law that forever changed criminal procedure in that state. The Act requires prosecutors to share all evidence with the defense—automatically and fully. No more discretion. No more hiding behind “prosecutorial privilege.” No waivers allowed. And, critically, the duty to disclose evidence continues indefinitely, even after conviction.

This, to me, is the real lesson: Morton didn’t stop at gaining his freedom. He turned his suffering into advocacy. He invested his time and effort to push for reforms that would protect others from the same injustice.

Now, let’s bring the discussion home to the Philippines. Our legal system also mandates disclosure of evidence, but the reality is uneven. There have been too many cases where accused persons feel blindsided by evidence that suddenly surfaces in court—or worse, never surfaces at all. Some lawyers and academicians are now advocating reforms inspired by the Michael Morton Act. They are calling for stronger disclosure rules, better oversight of prosecutors, and digitized case management systems that leave no room for hiding or manipulating evidence.

They are even inviting volunteers to join this advocacy—including ICT experts who can help design systems for recording, storing, and interpreting DNA and other forms of evidence. That’s a smart move. After all, modern justice is not just about laws—it’s about technology.

So here are my questions: Should we wait for a “Michael Morton” case to happen here before we act? Do we need an innocent Filipino to lose 25 years of his life before we strengthen prosecutorial accountability? Or can we learn from this precedent and move now, while trust in our justice system is already strained?

There’s also the matter of deterrence. Anderson’s punishment, though light compared to Morton’s suffering, sent a strong message: prosecutors are not above the law. They, too, can be held accountable. Should we not consider similar accountability measures here? Shouldn’t our prosecutors face real consequences—removal, disbarment, even imprisonment—if they knowingly withhold evidence?

DNA technology is already used in our courts, though sparingly. But are we prepared to handle it properly? Do we have the capacity to store, test, and interpret DNA samples without corruption or incompetence creeping in? If we don’t, then inviting ICT experts into this advocacy makes even more sense.

What happened in Texas shows us two things: first, that the justice system can fail in the most devastating ways; second, that it can also reform itself if pushed hard enough. For Morton, it took half a lifetime to get justice. For Anderson, it took disgrace to learn that power has limits. For Texas, it took one man’s ordeal to change the rules for everyone else.

Must we wait for our own Michael Morton before we act? Or will we take this as a warning and move toward reforms now? The choice, as always, is ours.

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

10-26-2025 

SOME IDEAS ABOUT HOW TO MAKE USE OF WASTE GLASS COLLECTED FROM OUR WATERWAYS

SOME IDEAS ABOUT HOW TO MAKE USE OF WASTE GLASS COLLECTED FROM OUR WATERWAYS

It seems that wherever we go these days—rivers, creeks, esteros, even along our coastlines—we see not just plastic waste but also a good deal of glass bottles, jars, and broken fragments. While plastics usually get the headlines, glass is just as problematic. Unlike organic matter, it does not decompose; it just sits there, often breaking into sharp pieces that pose dangers to humans, animals, and the environment.

So, what can we do about it? Collecting it is the first logical step, and in fact, collecting glass is easier than collecting plastic because glass is just one category. Plastics, by contrast, have about seven categories, and these require separate processing streams. That makes glass, in a way, less complicated to deal with.

But what happens after collection? That’s where we need to get creative. In Bali, for example, they have the “Sungai Carafe”—a beautifully designed water container made from waste glass collected in rivers. The carafe is marketed not only as a product but as a symbol of ecological restoration. It proves that something once polluting a river can be turned into something useful and even elegant.

I like the concept, but I also ask: is a carafe the best use of waste glass here in the Philippines? Art pieces and decorative items are good, but they usually have small, niche markets. If we want real impact, shouldn’t we be aiming for products with bigger commercial value and broader demand? A well-promoted glass carafe could sell, yes—but how many households or restaurants will realistically buy them?

That leads me to a bigger question: Could we think in terms of building materials? Waste glass, after all, can be crushed and turned back into sand or silica. This could be used for road construction, cement mixes, or even as filler in eco-concrete. In some countries, glass is also made into tiles and bricks. Imagine barangays producing their own decorative glass tiles for local markets, or paving bricks that reduce dependence on quarried stone. Wouldn’t that make a bigger dent in both waste management and local economic development?

Of course, these ideas are not just for entrepreneurs. I see a strong role here for cooperatives and local government units (LGUs). Why not empower barangay-based cooperatives to run micro-recycling hubs? With the right machines—a hammer mill or glass imploder for crushing, and perhaps a small kiln for artisanal products—these hubs could transform collected glass into usable raw material.

The machines are not beyond reach. A hammer mill or crusher could cost in the range of $2,000 to $8,000, while a more sophisticated imploder (which produces sand-like cullet safely) may run up to $15,000. A small electric kiln suitable for glaze work starts at around $1,500. These are not cheap, but neither are they impossible. With LGU support, cooperative management, and perhaps funding from DTI or TESDA, barangays could get started. Compare that investment to the costs of constantly dredging clogged rivers or hauling endless truckloads of mixed waste to dumpsites, and the numbers begin to make sense.

We must also link glass collection with plastic collection. They usually accumulate in the same places anyway, and barangay material recovery facilities (MRFs) could be equipped to handle both. In fact, setting up a local showcase—a “Barangay Circular Market Day” where products from reclaimed waste are sold—could boost awareness and even generate pride. People might think twice before throwing bottles into rivers if they know those bottles could become part of a road, a tile, or a water carafe sold in their own community.

One more angle to consider: partnerships with artisans. Filipinos are highly creative, and we already have pottery traditions, glassblowing in some localities, and plenty of design schools. Why not tap students, designers, and artisans to collaborate with barangay cooperatives? They could co-create functional and attractive products, adding cultural motifs or local design elements that make each item unique.

The big picture, of course, is livelihood. Waste collectors, artisans, youth groups, and cooperatives all stand to gain from a system where trash becomes resource. And it is not only about jobs—it is about dignity. Turning waste into worth restores not just rivers but also community spirit.

So here are my questions to our policymakers and local leaders: Do we want to continue treating waste glass as useless debris, or do we want to see it as a potential raw material for industry and culture? Could we move beyond token projects and scale up barangay-level recycling hubs that feed into larger markets? And could we begin to think less about disposal and more about transformation?

If Bali can make carafes from river glass, surely, we can do something just as creative—if not more practical. After all, we are a nation that prides itself on ingenuity. Perhaps the next time we walk along a riverbank and see a pile of empty bottles, we might not just see trash—we might see the beginnings of a road, a brick, or even a new means of livelihood.

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

10-25-2025 

TACKLING CORRUPTION IN THE PHILIPPINES—AGAIN?

TACKLING CORRUPTION IN THE PHILIPPINES—AGAIN?

The expose by President Ferdinand R. Marcos, Jr. of the corruption in flood control projects has once again stirred public interest in that familiar battle cry—let’s tackle corruption in the Philippines. Yes, we’ve heard it before, many times over, under every administration. But the question remains: will it be different this time?

It seems we already have the mechanisms to fight corruption. We have the Ombudsman, the Commission on Audit (COA), the Sandiganbayan, and countless anti-graft laws. We even have new technologies: drones, satellites, and project monitoring software. But despite all of these, corruption remains as stubborn as ever. Why?

Is it just a matter of lacking political will? If that’s the case, are we now seeing the “big push” from the President himself? He has openly called on local mayors to expose corruption in their own jurisdictions. Admirable words, but actions are what count. So far, we’ve only seen Mayor Vico Sotto of Pasig and Mayor Benjie Magalong of Baguio step forward. Where are the others? Why the deafening silence from most mayors? Fear? Complicity? Or is it simply the culture of keeping quiet rather than rocking the boat?

That silence is telling. Because corruption in the Philippines is not just a system of bad apples—it is a network, a culture, a way of political survival. Politicians routinely accept “donations” from contractors, a practice not illegal but clearly rife with conflicts of interest. Should we continue to tolerate this? If the law says it is legal but common sense tells us it is wrong, isn’t it time to close that loophole?

This is where things get complicated. Fighting corruption is not just about catching thieves. It’s about changing incentives, dismantling rent-seeking networks, and—most importantly—building trust that honesty pays better than dishonesty. Right now, the incentives lean the other way.

Let us consider the tools already on the table. Project DIME, for example, uses satellite and drone technology to monitor infrastructure projects. Imagine a bird’s-eye view of flood control projects, roadworks, and public buildings. From above, ghost projects have nowhere to hide. But here’s the catch: technology is only as effective as the people who manage it. If the monitoring agencies themselves are compromised, then all the drones and satellites in the sky won’t matter.

Then there’s project monitoring software, already available in the market. If adopted widely, these systems could create real-time dashboards for citizens to track budgets and progress. But again—will government use them? Or will they gather dust like so many other reforms announced with much fanfare but forgotten in practice?

The truth is that corruption thrives in opacity and impunity. Justice institutions remain weak, vulnerable to political capture. Procurement rules are skirted by executive agreements. Oversight bodies are fragmented. And culturally, we have normalized corruption to the point that it is treated as a “necessary evil” for political survival.

So, are the mechanisms enough for us to win? On paper, yes. In practice, not yet. Without shielding the Ombudsman, COA, and judiciary from interference, we cannot expect consistent enforcement. Without mandatory transparency in contracts, bidding remains a playground for favored contractors. Without empowering civil society and the media, whistleblowers will stay silent, and journalists will remain targets.

What then can be done? First, strengthen institutions, not personalities. Second, close the loopholes that allow “legal” conflicts of interest. Third, localize anti-corruption efforts down to the barangay level, where citizens themselves can see where every peso goes. And fourth, protect those who dare to speak out—because corruption cannot be fought by a single President alone.

So yes, President Marcos has started another push to tackle corruption. But the real test is whether this will go beyond speeches and exposés. Will we finally see accountability? Will more local officials step up, or will they stay silent in the shadows?

We Filipinos have learned to be skeptical, because we’ve seen this movie before. But perhaps, just perhaps, if this “big push” combines technology, transparency, and real political courage, then maybe we will not have to ask the same question all over again a few years from now.

But until that day comes, the title remains a question, not a declaration: Tackling Corruption in the Philippines—Again?

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

10-24-2025 

THE PHILIPPINES HAS JOINED THE FIRST MEETING OF THE UN GLOBAL PLASTICS TREATY

THE PHILIPPINES HAS JOINED THE FIRST MEETING OF THE UN GLOBAL PLASTICS TREATY

It is a good thing that the Philippines has attended the first-ever meeting of the UN Global Plastics Treaty held in Geneva recently. This is a landmark initiative—one that could eventually shape how the world tackles the scourge of plastic pollution. For sure, there will be more meetings to follow, and with them, the recurring question: who should lead the next Philippine delegations?

As a former Foreign Service Officer (FSO), I will admit my bias: the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) should lead all delegations and negotiations abroad. We are not talking about ordinary conferences here—these are intense, high-stakes negotiations that will culminate in a treaty. Such a treaty will have to be ratified by our Senate and signed by the President. That requires not just technical expertise, but also diplomatic skill, familiarity with treaty law, and the ability to navigate international politics.

That said, I have yet to hear of any call for papers, consultations, or even a whisper of public discussion on what the Philippines should bring to the table in these talks. Do you know of any NGO that was asked to submit a position paper? I don’t. And I find that troubling.

Ideally, every sector in the plastic supply chain should have been consulted—from producers to distributors, from consumers to waste collectors. Without such input, are we only hearing the voices of the regulators and the violators, but not the advocates? Could some agencies be quietly blocking the participation of environmental groups to avoid uncomfortable truths?

If consultations were skipped for the first round, perhaps we can still remedy this in the future rounds. Beyond DENR, agencies like DTI, DOST, MMDA, DA, BFAR, and DOH should be at the table. Plastics affect not only waste streams, but also agriculture, fisheries, and public health—especially with the growing concern over microplastics.

The DENR is currently leading the Philippine delegation, with DFA providing support. The team is also joined by Filipino civil society advocates like Greenpeace Philippines, EcoWaste Coalition, GAIA, and members of the Break Free from Plastic Movement. But should they be the only ones involved? These groups are pushing for strong, binding commitments to cut plastic production, ban toxic additives, and end incineration as a “solution.” Their point is clear: the treaty must address the full life cycle of plastics—not just waste management.

Why is this important? Because the Philippines is both a top contributor to ocean plastic pollution and one of the most vulnerable to its impacts. Coastal barangays and urban flood zones pay the price for plastic waste—whether in the form of blocked drainage during storms or toxic leachate contaminating water sources.

Unfortunately, the current treaty draft is already under fire for dropping key provisions on production limits and chemical bans. A watered-down agreement will do little for countries like ours, where plastic waste is not just an environmental problem but a public health and economic one.

This is where leadership matters. Since Ambassador Carlos Sorreta is already in Geneva as our Permanent Representative to the UN, why not have him lead the delegation? He has the diplomatic credentials, the multilateral experience, and the proximity to the negotiating floor. For technical backup, the Roster of Inventors, Scientists, and Engineers (ROSIE) could be tapped for expertise.

Negotiations like these are a mix of science, politics, and persuasion. The Philippines needs a head delegate who understands the legal language of treaties, the technical aspects of plastic pollution, and the subtle art of coalition-building. We should be aligning with the so-called High Ambition Coalition—countries pushing for production caps, chemical phase-outs, and binding obligations.

But to negotiate strongly abroad, we must first get our act together at home. This means inclusive consultations, a clear national position, and the courage to challenge powerful industry lobbies. If the treaty is meant to be a turning point, let us make sure it turns in the right direction—towards a Philippines that no longer drowns in its own plastic waste.

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

10-23-2025 

 

LAGOS IMPOSES BAN ON SINGLE USE PLASTICS

LAGOS IMPOSES BAN ON SINGLE USE PLASTICS

Lagos, Nigeria — the bustling megacity of more than 20 million people — has just joined the growing list of cities around the world that have banned single-use plastics. This is a bold step for a city that produces 870,000 tons of plastic waste every year, out of the world’s 57 million tons. And yet, while the ban sounds impressive on paper, the reality is far from clean and green.

Under the new law, which took effect July 1, single-use items like Styrofoam packs, plastic cutlery, plates, and straws are officially prohibited. Businesses that defy the ban risk closure. But as often happens with big announcements, implementation is proving to be the real challenge. A quick stroll through Lagos’ markets shows Styrofoam packs still stacked on shelves and used freely by food vendors.

One shop manager openly admitted he still uses plastic packs five times a day — because they are cheap, convenient, and, frankly, alternatives are scarce. This points to the first big problem: it is easy to ban, but how do you enforce it?

This situation sounds familiar here in the Philippines. Many of our own cities — Las Piñas, Pasay, Pasig, Makati, Muntinlupa, Quezon City, and Parañaque — have declared bans or restrictions on single-use plastics. But there is a big difference between a restriction and a ban. A restriction says, “Please use less.” A ban says, “You can’t use it at all.” Too many LGUs take the safer middle ground, perhaps to avoid complaints from businesses and consumers. But here’s the question: When will these cities be brave enough to move from restriction to outright prohibition?

And even with a complete ban, what if plastics from non-complying businesses still end up in the city’s garbage trucks? Do we have clear protocols for confiscating them or penalizing offenders? More importantly, can one city’s ban really work if the next city over still allows them? In the Philippines, residents can just cross a boundary to buy plastic-packaged goods. The same happens in Lagos.

Lagos’ deeper problem is that its waste management system is overwhelmed. The city produces 13,000 tons of waste daily — almost 20% of it plastics — much of which ends up in waterways, clogging canals, polluting beaches, and even contributing to devastating floods. Banning plastics without upgrading waste collection and disposal systems is like banning cigarettes without funding public health clinics — the intention is good, but the infrastructure isn’t ready.

Environmental activists in Lagos point out that without strong enforcement, affordable alternatives for vendors, and serious investment in waste management, the law will remain more symbolic than practical. And manufacturers, too, have a responsibility. If they produce plastic packaging, they should have a clear system for collecting it back for recycling. Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) laws exist in theory, but how often do we see them enforced?

Interestingly, some Lagos residents have taken matters into their own hands. Private waste managers and informal recyclers sort, clean, and sell discarded plastics to private companies. They earn a small but steady income — about 5,000 naira (roughly ₱200) a day — from this work. But their efforts, while admirable, can’t keep pace with the flood of waste.

Here in the Philippines, we could make compliance easier with practical solutions. First, cities should provide color-coded garbage bins, such as those manufactured by INCA, to encourage waste segregation. Second, they could deploy Reverse Vending Machines (RVMs) — like the ones from Spurway Enterprises — in malls, markets, and barangay centers, giving residents a convenient way to return bottles and other recyclables for a small reward.

Behavioral change is also essential. People will only give up single-use plastics when they have viable, affordable alternatives. That means supporting local businesses that sell reusable containers, compostable packaging, and refillable products. Without this, bans will remain a frustrating cycle of announcement, partial compliance, and eventual fading into the background noise of good intentions.

The lesson from Lagos is clear: banning single-use plastics is just one step. It must be paired with affordable alternatives, consistent enforcement, waste management upgrades, and public education. Otherwise, the law becomes just another press release — and the plastic continues to pile up.

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

10-22-2025 

REINVENTING THE CHARITY WARDS IN PRIVATE HOSPITALS

REINVENTING THE CHARITY WARDS IN PRIVATE HOSPITALS

President Ferdinand R. Marcos Jr. has announced the “zero balance billing” policy in all Department of Health (DOH)-owned and operated hospitals. In my book, that’s already close to having “universal health care”.

Finally, with the help of some friends at PHILHEALTH, I was able to clarify that the Zero Balance Billing (ZBB) program of the government applies not only to the public hospitals that are owned and operated by the DOH, but to all public hospitals, provided that the patients are confined in ward type accommodations, and not in private rooms.

Furthermore, the ZBB program includes all professional fees involved during the surgery or confinement, provided that no other doctors are involved in the surgery or confinement, aside from those who are already working in the hospital concerned. What that means is that if there is any other doctor or specialist who is called in from the outside, his or her professional fees will not be covered by the ZBB program.

But what if for any reason, the patient or the family of the patient has no choice but to bring him or her to a private hospital? It is not yet very clear, but I think that the government is working on that to be covered by ZBB too, if the patient is also billeted in a ward type of accommodation, and not in a private room.

One thing that is already in the law — and not open to interpretation — is that no hospital, public or private, may turn away a patient who enters their premises. The real question is: what happens if the patient is indigent and cannot afford to pay?

On paper, that’s not supposed to be a problem. PhilHealth can reimburse most of the bills — medicines, professional fees, and all — except for private room costs. For indigent patients, private rooms are usually out of the question anyway.

If PhilHealth can’t cover everything, there’s always the Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office (PCSO), which can issue a Guarantee Letter to shoulder some expenses. Again, private rooms and professional fees may not be included — but in theory, an indigent patient can still walk out of a private hospital with zero to pay, provided they weren’t in a private room.

That’s in theory. Reality, however, tends to throw in a lot of ifs and buts. What if the hospital only has private rooms? What if ordinary rooms are full and the patient ends up in a private one? I’ve seen this happen and trust me — things can get messy very quickly.

So, here’s my proposed solution — one I wish hospital administrators would take seriously: bring back the charity wards.

Back in the day, every hospital had them. They weren’t just a token bed or two; they were actual wards — multiple beds set aside for indigent patients. This wasn’t just good practice; it was once official policy. In fact, DOH Administrative Order No. 2007-0041 still requires all private hospitals to allocate at least 10% of their authorized bed capacity as “charity beds.”

The problem? The requirement says “beds,” not “wards.” Beds can be scattered here and there, often not in the same room, and that defeats the whole point of a charity ward — a dedicated space for those who need it most. My suggestion is simple: interpret that 10% rule to mean charity wards, not just beds.

In principle, every public hospital should already be a charity hospital — free for everyone, not just the poor. The President’s recent pronouncement has moved us closer to that ideal in DOH hospitals. But I find it both amusing and a bit absurd that some public hospitals still have private rooms. Isn’t that an oxymoron — a “private” room in a public hospital?

I’m told they exist because hospitals need the extra revenue to survive under tight budgets. Maybe so. But if the President’s attention (and funding) is on this issue, perhaps that financial necessity will soon disappear. And maybe — just maybe — the day will come when private rooms vanish from public hospitals altogether, and every bed is, in effect, a charity bed.

Until that day, let’s make sure that private hospitals do their part. The 10% charity bed requirement shouldn’t just be a licensing checkbox; it should be visible, accessible, and serving those in need.

Right now, the DOH’s monitoring system is decentralized and largely manual. There’s no public dashboard to see which hospitals are compliant. Hospitals are supposed to declare their charity bed count in annual reports, but there’s little transparency. The DOH has hinted at requiring hospitals to post their charity bed numbers and standard fees publicly — both on-site and online — and I say, the sooner the better.

We could also sweeten the deal: offer tax incentives or PhilHealth processing priority for hospitals that actively and transparently maintain charity wards. Because while “charity” may sound like an act of goodwill, in this case, it’s also a legal obligation.

Yes, PhilHealth and PCSO are there to help cover costs, so technically these aren’t “free” beds in the sense of pure philanthropy. But at least they aren’t an oxymoron — unlike the private rooms in public hospitals.

If the government can truly enforce the zero-balance policy in DOH hospitals and require genuine charity wards in private ones, then maybe we can move closer to the day when the word “indigent” will no longer determine whether you get treated — or how well.

And if that day comes, we won’t just be reinventing the charity wards. We’ll be reinventing fairness itself.

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

10-21-2025 

USING ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TO TRACK CORRUPTION IN PUBLIC WORKS

USING ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TO TRACK CORRUPTION IN PUBLIC WORKS

It is interesting to note that President Ferdinand R. Marcos, Jr. has recently pointed out a peculiar pattern in the data—most likely from the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH)—showing that many flood control project contracts had the same project costs. Almost like they came out of a cookie cutter.

Equally curious, the President discovered that only about 15 contractors have been bagging most of these projects. Now, this is not just a random coincidence. This is a red flag that, if ignored, could allow corruption to keep flowing as freely as floodwaters in an unprotected barangay.

I am encouraged that such data sets are reaching the President’s desk and that he is reading them—and more importantly—sharing them with the public. That is already a big first step. But here’s my unsolicited advice: the next step should be to use artificial intelligence (AI) and machine learning (ML) to dig deeper into this data. And while we’re at it, let’s widen the net to catch even more patterns that the naked eye can’t detect.

Where should he get more data? Aside from DPWH, there’s the Department of Budget and Management (DBM) and the Commission on Audit (COA). Imagine this: data from all three agencies, juxtaposed, cross-referenced, and run through AI-powered analysis. I’m willing to bet my morning coffee that the patterns will start jumping out like fish in shallow water.

And why stop there? Let’s add the databases from PhilGEPS (Philippine Government Electronic Procurement System) and the Anti-Red Tape Authority (ARTA). In fact, if we feed AI the Terms of Reference (TORs) for all projects, we might uncover “custom-tailored” specifications designed to favor a chosen contractor.

This is not science fiction. Governments around the world are already using AI to spot procurement anomalies, detect price rigging, and even identify shell companies hiding behind multiple layers of ownership. AI can:

1.   Monitor procurement – Scan bid data to find repeated winners, suspicious pricing, and unusual bidding behavior.

2.   Flag high-risk transactions – Assign risk scores to contracts and vendors, based on past patterns.

3.   Map hidden networks – Reveal connections between people, companies, and even offshore entities.

4.   Assist audits – Help COA or internal auditors comb through massive records faster.

5.   Enable real-time alerts – Catch irregularities as they happen, not years later in an audit report.

This is especially powerful when combined with tools like Benford’s Law, which detects unnatural number patterns in financial data—an old auditor’s trick that still works wonders when scaled up with AI.

Of course, all this requires clean and interoperable government data. It also demands proper legal safeguards to protect privacy and ensure due process. AI must assist human investigators, not replace them. No algorithm should have the final say in accusing someone of corruption—but it can point us toward where to look.

Now here’s where the Philippines can take a leadership role. If Indonesia and Malaysia can already partner with international innovators like The Ocean Cleanup for environmental work, why can’t we form similar partnerships for governance technology? We can invite global AI anti-corruption experts to collaborate with our agencies, train our analysts, and set up pilot programs starting with high-risk sectors like public works.

I could immediately mobilize a “ragtag army” of volunteer ICT experts that would gladly help the President in this mission. We have the talent. We have the data. And we certainly have the motive—because corruption doesn’t just waste money; it kills projects before they can save lives.

If we can use AI to predict typhoons and track pandemics, we can use it to track corruption. Imagine an app, accessible even to barangay officials, where suspicious transactions are flagged in real-time. Imagine the deterrent effect when contractors know that every peso they touch is being watched by both human eyes and machine learning models.

Corruption thrives in darkness. AI can be the floodlight.

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

10-20-2025