SUBSEA TUNNELS: A DREAM FOR FUTURE FILIPINOS TO TURN INTO A REALITY

SUBSEA TUNNELS: A DREAM FOR FUTURE FILIPINOS TO TURN INTO A REALITY

There is nothing wrong with being a dreamer. But the problem is, dreamers often get accused of being lunatics.

Of course, if your dream has no basis in reality, that’s just fantasy. But what if your dream is based on something that’s already happening in this real world of ours? What if the “impossible” is already being built elsewhere?

Take Norway’s Rogfast tunnel—a $2 billion engineering marvel in the making. When completed around 2033, it will be the world’s longest and deepest subsea road tunnel: about 27 kilometers long and plunging 392 meters below sea level. It will connect Randaberg to Bokn with a spur to Kvitsøy, replacing several ferry crossings along Norway’s E39 coastal highway. The aim? To cut travel times nearly in half and create a weather-proof, dependable connection between cities like Stavanger and Bergen.

If Norway—already known for its track record in gargantuan projects—can do it, why can’t we dream of doing it too?

Now, here’s where reality bites. The Philippines, as of today, doesn’t have Norway’s deep pockets. Nor do we have their track record for delivering massive infrastructure projects without the constant shadow of corruption. In fact, perhaps ending corruption first might be a bigger dream than building a subsea tunnel. But as the saying goes, dreaming is free.

If we ever reach that future—when funds are available, political will is strong, and corruption is finally a thing of the past—where would I want to see subsea tunnels in our country?

First, from Sorsogon to Samar, supplementing the RORO system and making the Bicol-to-Eastern Visayas connection faster and stormproof. Then, from Leyte to Surigao, closing the gap between the Visayas and Mindanao without depending solely on ferries.

Second, imagine a chain of subsea links from Batangas to Mindoro, then on to Panay, Negros, Cebu, and all the way to Zamboanga. A continuous, reliable highway through the sea itself—just like Norway’s ferry-free E39 vision.

Will it cost too much? Of course it will. But big infrastructure is not an expense—it’s an investment. Properly planned and managed, it can be recovered through tolls, increased trade, and the economic activity it unlocks. The more connected our islands are, the more opportunities will bloom.

Is it a stupid idea? I’d say it’s even more stupid not to do it if one day we have the money, the technology, and the governance to make it happen. The future generations should decide, but we must plant the seed of the vision now.

And remember—Filipinos are not strangers to world-class engineering. Who’s to say Norway won’t be hiring our engineers and construction workers to help build Rogfast? If we can help them dig a tunnel under the sea, why can’t we one day do it for ourselves?

The Rogfast tunnel is more than a hole through bedrock. It’s a statement that geography is not destiny—that even the sea can be bridged with enough skill, planning, and determination. For an archipelago like ours, that’s a lesson worth studying carefully.

I’m not saying we start tomorrow. But the dream should be in the blueprint of our long-term national vision. One day, our children might drive from Luzon to Mindanao without boarding a ferry. And if anyone says it’s impossible, we can point to Norway and say: they did it, so why can’t we?

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

10-15-2025 

LET US GO INTO AQUAPONICS TO PRODUCE MORE FOOD AND SOLVE HUNGER

LET US GO INTO AQUAPONICS TO PRODUCE MORE FOOD AND SOLVE HUNGER

By now, we all know the warnings: while land and water may not yet be scarce, we could one day face the reality of having too little of either to grow enough food. This isn’t a science-fiction scenario—it’s the simple math of resource depletion. And when that day comes, those who prepared early will still have something to eat.

One way to prepare? Aquaponics.

If you haven’t heard of it, aquaponics is the marriage of aquaculture (raising fish) and hydroponics (growing plants in water). Fish waste feeds the plants, and the plants clean the water for the fish. It’s a neat, self-contained cycle—and it uses about 90% less water than traditional farming because the water is recirculated.

That’s already a huge advantage. Even if our rivers and lakes never run dry, pollution might one day make them unfit for raising fish. And even if our seas remain full, climate change is already making fishing harder: storms wreck coastal fish cages and bad weather keeps fishermen from going out. With aquaponics, we can raise fish and vegetables together in controlled environments—safe from storms, safe from pollution. We can even grow fruits and root crops with the right system.

Here’s more good news: aquaponics can be done almost anywhere. In the highlands, indigenous cultural communities could run their own systems. In the middle of cities, vacant lots, rooftops, and even unused buildings can be converted. Local designs, like those from Vantaztic, Inc., show that urban aquaponics can work on small or large scales.

We also already have the expertise. The Department of Science and Technology (DOST), the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources (BFAR), and our State Universities and Colleges (SUCs) have trained people who can design and operate these systems.

Urban aquaponics also makes economic sense. Fish grown in the city don’t need long trips in refrigerated trucks, so transport costs drop—and sometimes disappear. That means prices could be lower for consumers, and the fish could be so fresh they’re still alive when sold.

Of course, aquaponics is not without challenges. Setting up the systems can be expensive, and pumps and monitoring equipment need electricity. Operators must understand both aquaculture and horticulture—two different skill sets that need to work in harmony. But this is where government and private sector partnerships can make a difference. Training programs, subsidies, and low-interest loans could help families, cooperatives, and schools start their own systems.

Speaking of schools—this is an area where we could really plant the seeds (literally and figuratively). Imagine if every public high school had an aquaponics project. Students would learn biology, chemistry, and sustainability while producing actual food for their community. That’s education and nutrition rolled into one.

Globally, the urgency is clear. The United Nations says 800 million people are undernourished. The Food and Agriculture Organization warns that by 2050, food demand will rise by 59–98%. If we stick to the old ways of farming, we’ll need more land, more water, and more chemical inputs—things we might not have. Aquaponics sidesteps many of those limits: no soil, minimal water use, no chemical fertilizers or pesticides, and the ability to operate in urban centers or remote areas alike.

And the yields are impressive. Lettuce that takes 60 days to grow in soil can be ready in about 36 days in aquaponics. Farmers can harvest three to four times more food per square meter compared to conventional farming. And because there’s no tilling, no weeds, and no heavy machinery, the energy and labor inputs are lower.

I’m not saying we abandon traditional farming. Rice paddies, coconut farms, and fruit orchards will still have their place. But we need to diversify. We need farming systems that are climate-resilient, water-efficient, and adaptable to both rural and urban settings.

Aquaponics checks all those boxes. And the sooner we start, the better. The longer we wait, the more expensive it will be to catch up when resource scarcity starts biting hard.

The government should seriously consider a national aquaponics program. Imagine every barangay with its own fish-and-vegetable facility, supplying fresh, affordable, chemical-free food right where it’s needed. Imagine communities producing their own protein and greens, cutting dependency on long supply chains that can be disrupted by typhoons, fuel shortages, or global crises.

Hunger is not an unsolvable problem—it’s a planning problem. Aquaponics is one of the tools that could help us plan our way out of it. And while there’s still enough land and water, we should invest in systems that will keep feeding us when those resources are no longer as abundant.

The future of food is already here. It’s swimming in tanks and growing in beds of recirculated water. Let’s not wait for hunger to become an emergency before we take it seriously.

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

10-14-2025 

FARM TOURISM CAN BOOST ECO-TOURISM

 FARM TOURISM CAN BOOST ECO-TOURISM

Technically speaking, farm tourism is just a subset of eco-tourism. Eco-tourism is the big umbrella—it covers everything from marine sanctuaries to mountain trails, from mangrove parks to wildlife reserves. But lately, I’ve noticed something interesting: here in the Philippines, farm tourism could become bigger than eco-tourism, at least in the domestic market.

Why? Because while eco-tourism may have more to offer to foreign tourists—especially those who want untouched beaches or rare bird sightings—farm tourism has far more to offer to local tourists. And I don’t just mean sightseeing. Local visitors go to farms not only to look, but also to learn, taste, and take home something fresh.

In fact, many farms have evolved into Learning Sites for Agriculture (LSAs), where visitors can get hands-on experience in farming before they decide to go into the business themselves. These LSAs are under the Agricultural Training Institute (ATI) of the Department of Agriculture. Some even offer TESDA-accredited courses where visitors can earn an NC II certificate in agriculture-related skills. That means a weekend farm visit could change your career path.

And it’s not all about planting and harvesting. Some of these farms have morphed into full-fledged tourist resorts—complete with accommodations, function halls, and hotel-type amenities. Most have farm-to-table restaurants and fresh markets selling produce from their own land and neighboring farms. One shining example is Costales Nature Farms in Majayjay, Laguna. There, you can stay overnight, enjoy the scenery, learn about organic farming, and bring home baskets of freshly harvested vegetables and fruits.

Yes, farm tourism still fits under the eco-tourism label, especially when it follows sustainable practices, promotes biodiversity, and involves the local community. But its strength lies in its versatility. Farm tourism can combine leisure, education, and commerce in one package. It’s not just about “seeing” nature—it’s about using nature wisely and living it, even if only for a weekend.

Under the Farm Tourism Development Act of 2016 (RA 10816), the government recognizes farm tourism as a tool to diversify rural income, promote sustainable farming, and enhance food security. This is not theory—it’s already happening. Farm tourism sites across the country are running workshops on organic farming, composting, and agroforestry. Some even teach value-adding like making jams, drying herbs, or processing cacao.

The network of LSAs is growing fast, with over 300 farms nationwide accredited by ATI. These range from Iglesias Farm in Batangas, which teaches integrated farming and farm business management, to Baluzo Farm in Camarines Norte, focusing on organic farming and agritourism. Even urban and peri-urban farms are part of this movement, showing city folks how to grow food in tight spaces.

Farm tourism also creates what I call “economic ecosystems.” A visitor might stay at a farm resort, buy vegetables from its store, purchase honey from a neighboring apiary, and hire a local van service to get there. That’s multiple income streams for the community from just one tourist visit.

The potential is huge. Imagine barangay-level farm tourism models that combine mangrove tours, farm stays, and local crafts. Picture a weekend itinerary where guests harvest their own vegetables, take a banca to see fishponds and mangroves, and end the day weaving pandan mats with village artisans. That’s farm tourism feeding into eco-tourism, and vice versa.

If there’s a challenge, it’s marketing. Many farm tourism sites are still hidden gems. They rely on word of mouth or seasonal events to draw visitors. There’s a need for stronger promotion—both locally and abroad—to position these destinations as part of mainstream tourism offerings. The Philippines already sells itself as “more fun” to visit; it should also sell itself as “more fruitful” to experience.

So yes, farm tourism may be a subset of eco-tourism on paper. But on the ground, especially for local travelers, it has the potential to lead the way. The more farms that become learning sites, community hubs, and vacation destinations all rolled into one, the more we can boost not just tourism numbers but also rural livelihoods and food security.

And perhaps the best part? Every peso you spend in a farm tourism site doesn’t just buy you fresh produce or a relaxing weekend—it also supports farmers, sustains communities, and promotes environmental stewardship. In that sense, it’s tourism with roots—and roots, as every farmer knows, are what keep things standing strong.

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

10-13-2025 

LET’S HAVE MORE ECONOMIC DIPLOMACY WITH CHINA

LET’S HAVE MORE ECONOMIC DIPLOMACY WITH CHINA

By now, everyone knows about the tensions in the West Philippine Sea (WPS). We have all seen the news footage, read the statements, and heard the speeches. And yes, these are real, serious matters. But here’s the thing—political diplomacy and economic diplomacy can, and should, co-exist. They are not sworn enemies.

Despite our territorial disputes, China is still our trading partner. We buy goods from them. They buy goods from us. That’s the simple truth. This reality doesn’t vanish just because the political temperature rises. If anything, it’s even more reason to keep the economic lines open.

To be clear, I’m not saying we should ignore the WPS issue. I’m saying we must compartmentalize—while we defend our sovereignty through political channels, we should also protect and grow our economic interests through trade and investment channels.

Right now, the problem is our trade balance. And not in a good way. For May 2025 alone, Philippine imports from China hit $5.16 billion, while our exports to them were only $1.47 billion. That’s a trade deficit of $3.69 billion in China’s favor—for just one month. Year-to-date figures are even more sobering: $21.7 billion in imports versus $8.18 billion in exports.

So yes, we need to keep trading—but smarter. Our goal should be to make the trade balance more balanced, not tilted so far toward China that it feels like we’re permanently sliding downhill. How do we do that? By pursuing stronger economic diplomacy—trade promotion, investment attraction, and active participation in China’s import market.

Here’s one bright spot: coconuts. According to a report from the Philippine Embassy in Beijing, we’re now the second-largest coconut supplier to China, cornering 27% of the market. In 2020 alone, we exported about 43,700 tons of coconut products worth $62.8 million. China’s coconut demand is massive—importing about 2.5 billion coconuts annually from Southeast Asia, plus 300–350 million coconuts for direct consumer use.

This is where opportunity knocks. We’ve already gained access for our young green coconuts since 2019, alongside our staples like coconut oil, coconut water, coconut sugar, and virgin coconut oil. If China needs billions of coconuts a year, why not aim to supply a bigger chunk of that? Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam, and Malaysia are also in the race, but with our coconut heritage and expertise, we could be the front-runner.

And coconuts shouldn’t be the end of the story. What else can we export to China? Our integrated circuits, nickel ore, and office machine parts are already among our top exports there. But what about expanding processed food, tropical fruits, marine products, and even creative industry outputs? The market is huge, and not every Filipino-made product is getting a fair shot at that market.

On the flip side, we should also ask: what do we import from China that we can produce locally? Refined petroleum and integrated circuits may be hard to replace, but what about basic machinery, home goods, or textiles? Every peso we keep circulating within the Philippine economy is a peso that strengthens our industries and jobs.

Economic diplomacy is not charity—it’s strategy. We can be firm in protecting our waters and still be shrewd in protecting our economic future. In fact, the two can reinforce each other. A stronger economy gives us more leverage in any negotiation, political or otherwise.

So, while the Philippine Coast Guard patrols the WPS, let our trade and investment teams patrol the vast seas of the Chinese market. We can’t afford to let political heat freeze our economic ambitions. If we play our cards right, we might not just shrink the trade deficit—we might just turn it into an advantage.

Because when you think about it, the better our economic ties are, the stronger our position becomes in every other arena. And in this game, it’s better to be holding both the shield and the ledger.

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

10-12-2025 

IS MAYOR VICO SOTTO OPENING A NEW FRONT IN THE FLOOD CONTROL CORRUPTION WAR?

IS MAYOR VICO SOTTO OPENING A NEW FRONT IN THE FLOOD CONTROL CORRUPTION WAR?

Very few city mayors have had the courage to publicly echo President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr.’s revelations about corruption in flood control projects. Among them, Pasig City Mayor Vico Sotto stands out. He didn’t just express support—he described in detail the very system of corruption that, according to him, has been operating in plain sight.

During the President’s recent report, the “Top 15” Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) contractors for flood control projects were revealed. Among them, Alpha & Omega ranked No. 2, and St. Timothy ranked No. 3—both, along with St. Gerrard, allegedly owned and controlled by one group. Mayor Sotto openly confirmed this link, saying, “Now, the public is slowly learning the whole truth.” And, borrowing from the President’s State of the Nation Address (SONA), he repeated the stinging rebuke: “Have some shame!”

That begs the question—does Mayor Sotto have personal knowledge of how these operators work? His statement suggests he does. He recounted how barangay captains and politicians themselves told him about the “six stages of corruption” in public works:

1.   Rigged procurement and bidding—collusion right at the start.

2.   Substandard or imaginary projects—some, as the President said, “exist only in the mind.”

3.   Kickbacks (“SOPs”) reaching over 50% of project cost—a claim also made by Baguio Mayor Benjamin Magalong and Senator Ping Lacson.

4.   Non-payment of correct BIR taxes.

5.   Underpayment of business taxes to LGUs—including one top contractor declaring zero gross revenue to Pasig.

6.   Entering politics with stolen money—then giving a token 1% back as “assistance” to look benevolent.

If these contractors are among the “Top 15,” will Mayor Sotto name which of them operate in Pasig City? It’s an important point because Pasig sits right along the Pasig River, where dredging contracts are plentiful. And why does this sound so familiar? Anyone who followed the controversies surrounding the Pasig River Rehabilitation project knows that it, too, was a magnet for political, financial, and legal drama.

Could there be implications here for Senator Mark Villar, who oversaw many infrastructure projects during his DPWH tenure? Even indirectly, his past approvals may come under scrutiny. Another question: why exactly 15 contractors? Large government projects are supposed to be bid as one project, unless subdividing is justifiable—but in practice, “sub-packaging” can be a tool for favoritism and profit-spreading.

How many of these contractors are owned by politicians hiding behind fronts? How many of these politicians are collecting both kickbacks and ongoing commissions, as alleged by Mayor Magalong?

Since the President has taken the cudgels in this fight. Could this finally mean an end to Metro Manila’s chronic flooding problem?

The stakes are high. President Marcos has already accepted the offer of San Miguel Corporation president Ramon S. Ang (RSA) to help fund and implement flood control solutions using his own money. If that happens, what will happen to the flood control funds that have already been allocated—and possibly depleted? Hopefully, RSA will bring in science and technology to finally deliver lasting solutions. For my part, I am offering the help of the Roster of Inventors, Scientists, and Engineers (ROSIE) to assist in creating the right mix of engineering, environmental, and governance reforms.

Flood control in Metro Manila is not just about dredging rivers or building more pumping stations. It’s about comprehensive planning, technology adoption, environmental rehabilitation, and—most urgently—corruption control. Without fixing the last one, every pump, dam, and retention basin will just be another “imaginary” project in the making.

The Metro Manila Flood Management Master Plan—approved way back in 2012—already outlines the right steps:

·       Build a dam in the upper Marikina River catchment.

·       Eliminate long-term flooding in the Laguna de Bay flood plain.

·       Modernize all pumping stations and improve urban drainage.

·       Invest in early warning systems and community-based risk management.

·       Strengthen institutional coordination.

And yet, more than a decade later, we still have substandard work, missed deadlines, clogged waterways, and overpriced contracts. Over ₱510 million worth of projects were recently flagged for delays. Many pumping stations—built in the 1970s—are inefficient, and informal settlements still block crucial waterways.

That’s why Mayor Sotto’s stand matters. He’s not merely echoing the President; he’s naming patterns, pointing to specific actors, and committing his LGU to action. He has promised to send the President all the red flags his office has identified, and to pursue legal cases so Pasig can collect the millions—if not billions—in unpaid business taxes owed by these companies.

Metro Manila’s flooding problem is part engineering challenge, part environmental issue—but at its rotten core, it is a governance and integrity problem. Mayor Sotto has chosen to wade into the murky waters. Let’s see if others have the courage to follow.

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

10-11-2025 

HOW SINGAPORE IS SOLVING ITS FLOOD PROBLEM

HOW SINGAPORE IS SOLVING ITS FLOOD PROBLEM

Singapore is now using “smart drains” to solve its flooding problem. These are not magic drains or science-fiction gadgets—they are simply well-engineered, sensor-equipped drainage systems that monitor rainfall, water levels, and flow rates in real time. When heavy rain comes, they automatically open gates or adjust flow channels to move excess water away from vulnerable areas.

Whatever Singapore is doing is not rocket science. Whatever they could do, we could also do. In fact, I am willing to bet that we have more engineers than Singapore—perhaps even better ones. The question is not about skill. The question is about honesty, governance, and planning. And here, I’m not so confident.

I am sure Singapore has better long-term planning than us. I am also sure their construction projects are not constantly interrupted by graft and corruption. That is why their drainage system is admired by most modern nations—and why we should be taking notes.

Singapore’s approach is not just about digging bigger drains. It’s a whole system:

·       At the source, they slow down water right where it starts—through green roofs, rain gardens, and retention ponds.

·       Along the pathway, they widen and deepen drains and canals to carry larger volumes.

·       At the receptor, they protect flood-prone areas with barriers, crest protection, and elevated platforms.

On top of that, pump stations in low-lying areas push excess water to reservoirs or directly to the sea. The whole system is linked to a central control network, allowing authorities to respond instantly. In other words, they don’t wait for the flood before acting—they see it coming.

They even involve their citizens. Residents help maintain drains, report blockages, and take part in flood awareness campaigns. This is another difference: in Singapore, people see public infrastructure as something to protect, not just to use and abuse.

With climate change making extreme weather more frequent, Singapore has future-proofed its drainage designs. Their Public Utilities Board constantly updates flood management strategies based on rising rainfall intensity and ongoing urbanization. Developers are also part of the solution—since 2014, all new or redeveloped sites must have on-site detention tanks or green infrastructure to slow water before it hits public drains.

Now, here’s my point: adopting this system in the Philippines is possible. It’s not an issue of engineering complexity—it’s about political will and proper governance. If we truly wanted to, we could send a technical mission to Singapore tomorrow. We could ask them to help us design a similar system tailored for Metro Manila, Cebu, Davao, or any other flood-prone city.

Perhaps we could instruct our Embassy in Singapore to formally approach their government. It would cost less than the damage from just one big flood in Manila. And the benefits—saved lives, protected property, uninterrupted business—would last for decades.

The sad reality is that we keep reacting to floods instead of preventing them. We have the talent, we have the technology (or can get it), and we certainly have the need. What we lack is the discipline to think long-term and the integrity to execute without corruption eating away at every stage.

Singapore proves that floods in a dense, urban, tropical city can be managed effectively. The Philippines could do the same—if we stop making excuses and start making plans.

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

10-10-2025 

TARGETING MORE RETIREMENT VISA ARRIVALS

TARGETING MORE RETIREMENT VISA ARRIVALS

When the Special Resident Retirement Visa (SRRV) program was launched in 1985, the goal was simple and ambitious—bring in 50,000 foreign retirees to settle in the Philippines. Almost four decades later, we’re at only about 30,000. That’s a 40% shortfall, not exactly a small rounding error.

Meanwhile, Mexico sits comfortably on top of the global leaderboard with about 1 million retirees. Thailand, our Asian neighbor and direct competitor, boasts around 300,000—ten times our number. Even Malaysia, which doesn’t exactly market itself as a retiree’s tropical dream, still beats us with 40,000 arrivals.

What happened to our projections? Was this a marketing failure, a product failure, or a management failure? And if this were the private sector, would the long parade of DOT Secretaries—each serving also as Chairperson of the PRA—still be in their posts after 40 years of missed sales targets? Probably not.

But instead of indulging in finger-pointing, let’s face forward. Current projections say we could reach 150,000 retirees in the next ten years. That’s five times our present figure, but still only half of Thailand’s. For a country with our climate, English-speaking population, and famously warm people, why are we underperforming?

Part of the problem may be product perception. Somewhere along the way, many got the wrong idea that buying property was a requirement for an SRRV. It never was. Under the SRRV Classic category, you may convert part of your deposit to buy a condo or lease a house for the long term—but you can also just rent or stay in a retirement home. If you’re a 65-year-old retiree who just paid off your mortgage in your home country, why would you want another one here? Flexibility is the point, but we haven’t communicated that well enough.

And on that note, retirement living in the Philippines should be more than a condo in a high-rise. We could be offering fully serviced retirement villages—some with in-house medical services, others combining wellness tourism, agricultural and cultural immersion. Retirees aren’t just looking for a place to sleep; they’re looking for a place to live fully.

This leads to another reality check: the retirement industry is not purely tourism. Retirees come here to live, not to tour. Placing the PRA under the DOT may have made sense on paper, but maybe the DTI should be selling our retirement services the way they promote business process outsourcing or manufacturing hubs. After all, this is an investment market—retirees bring their pensions, their healthcare spending, and sometimes their businesses.

If we’re serious about hitting 150,000 retirees in the next decade, capacity building is key. We’ll need more accredited retirement homes, more healthcare facilities in secondary cities, better-trained care staff, and streamlined SRRV processing. We’ll also need to make sure LGUs are ready—because a retiree settling in Dumaguete or Iloilo will interact more with the local government than the PRA.

The global retiree market is exploding: 1 billion people aged 60+ by 2030, and 2.1 billion by 2050. Even capturing a small fraction could pump billions into our economy. Right now, we’ve barely dipped our toes in the water.

Yes, 40 years of underperformance is not a good track record. But 10 years of focused, well-planned effort could turn us into a major player. The choice is ours: remain a minor footnote in global retirement migration or finally start playing in the big leagues.

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

10-09-2025 

SPECIAL RECYCLING FOR MULTI-LAYERED PLASTICS

SPECIAL RECYCLING FOR MULTI-LAYERED PLASTICS

It appears that many of our Local Government Units (LGUs) still do not have special programs to recycle multi-layered plastics (MLPs). Why is that? Is it because local junk shops are not buying them? Or is it because no one is buying them from the junk shops either? If that is so, perhaps it is time for the national government, through the DENR, to step in.

In the general classification of plastics, MLPs fall under number 7— “Other.” Classifications 1 to 6 generally have ready markets for recycling, but number 7 remains the odd one out. This is why I believe we should pay attention to what is happening in Pune, India. In fact, I think the Philippine Embassy in New Delhi should be tasked to find out exactly how Pune made it work.

My suspicion—although I have no hard evidence yet—is that a lot of the plastic clogging our rivers and polluting our oceans may be these very same MLPs. And we might be adding to the problem without realizing it. For example, how many of us are recycling milk cartons and juice boxes in Tetra Paks? Many might assume they’re just paper and toss them in the paper bin. While Tetra Paks are about 70% paper, the remaining 30% is a mix of plastic and aluminum.

The same question applies to plastic bottles and sachets—how many of them use MLP packaging? If there are a lot, then we should be collecting them separately, perhaps through Reverse Vending Machines (RVMs). But for that to happen, people first need to know what MLP is. That’s why we should be educating everyone—especially school children—about the types of plastics from 1 to 7.

The DENR and DTI should also be stricter about requiring plastic packaging to carry these number codes—whether it’s a shopping bag, a shampoo sachet, or a snack wrapper. Sachets may be small, but they are among the most common forms of MLP. And while we’re at it, perhaps the DOST should have a dedicated agency or division that monitors MLP use in consumer products.

Why is Pune relevant to us? Because they actually have a working system for MLP recycling. There, the waste pickers’ cooperative SWaCH Plus teamed up with ITC Ltd and the Pune Municipal Corporation. Over 1,000 waste pickers collect MLP directly from households. The waste is sorted, baled, and sent to authorized recyclers. ITC covers the “viability gap” so the system stays financially sustainable. This model has diverted over 1,000 metric tons of MLP from landfills in just a few years and increased waste pickers’ incomes by about Rs. 600 a month.

Of course, there are challenges. MLP has such low market value that without subsidies, no one would bother collecting it. Waste pickers still face tough working conditions, and scaling the model to other cities requires strong corporate and government commitment. But it’s one of the few global examples where informal waste workers are integrated into a formal Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) system—something our own RA 11898 is supposed to promote.

In the Philippine context, we could adapt Pune’s model at the barangay level. Imagine organizing informal collectors into cooperatives, using the barangay MRF as a hub for sorting and baling MLP, and then linking with companies under their Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) obligations. Fast Moving Consumer Goods (FMCG) giants like Nestlé or Unilever could cover the viability gap the way ITC does in Pune. Recyclers like Green Antz or Envirotech could take in the processed MLP for use in construction boards, plastic lumber, or even cement kiln co-processing.

We can make this modular—start with one barangay, then scale up. The LGU provides the policy and logistics; the corporate partner funds the gap; the cooperative collects and sorts. Everyone plays a role, and the plastic that’s currently ending up in our waterways gets a new life instead of choking the environment.

At the heart of it, the problem with MLPs is technical—they’re made of different materials laminated together for durability and protection. This makes them great for packaging but terrible for recycling. Still, if Pune can find a way, so can we. It’s a matter of political will, corporate accountability, and public participation.

And perhaps, the next time we buy a sachet of shampoo or a bag of chips, we should ask ourselves: Where will this packaging end up? If the answer is “probably the river or the ocean,” then we know what needs to change.

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

10-08-2025 

EXPLORING KONJAC AS A POSSIBLE SUBSTITUTE FOR RICE

EXPLORING KONJAC AS A POSSIBLE SUBSTITUTE FOR RICE

Food and food consumption is not just about filling our stomachs—it is part of our culture. What we plant, what we cook, and what we eat are shaped by the traditions, habits, and perceptions we inherit.

Take for example certain provinces in the Visayas. For generations, people there have been eating boiled corn grits as their staple instead of rice. They say it has made them healthier and stronger. Yet, in Metro Manila and many parts of Luzon, boiled corn grits carry a stigma—it’s seen as “poor man’s food.” Ironically, even many of the poor themselves refuse to eat it because of that perception.

In parts of Mindanao, cassava is a common substitute or supplement for rice. Some might look down on it too, but it is what keeps many families nourished and alive. And if we look farther back in history, there’s the story of European sailors marooned in the South Pacific who survived mainly on taro, or “gabi” as we call it in many Filipino dialects.

So, here’s my question: If it looks like rice, cooks like rice, and tastes like rice—would you call it rice?

I recently tasted boiled konjac for the first time. To my surprise, it looked like rice, cooked like rice, and yes—it even tasted like rice. I was told it was prepared the same way as ordinary rice. I had to ask myself: Could this really be a substitute?

From my limited research, I found that konjac (Amorphophallus konjac) is a root crop that grows well in upland and sloping areas—places where rice is hard to grow unless you have rice terraces. Unlike rice, konjac doesn’t require irrigation; it thrives as a rain-fed crop. That means planting it will not compete with our rice lands.

Konjac is already well-known in Japan, China, and Indonesia. Its tuber is rich in glucomannan, a type of soluble fiber used to make shirataki noodles, flour, and even jelly. But before you eat it, the tuber must be processed to remove its natural toxins—usually by grinding it into flour, washing, treating with calcium hydroxide, and boiling.

Here in the Philippines, konjac farming is still a new idea, but our climate and soils are well-suited for it. It grows best in warm, humid places with partial shade and slightly acidic soil. That’s practically a description of many upland areas in Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao. Imagine planting konjac in the Cordilleras, Bukidnon, or the interior zones of Negros and Panay—areas that already have the right environment.

So why not start small pilot farms? Barangay-level livelihood programs could explore konjac cultivation alongside other crops in agroforestry systems. Farmers could intercrop it with fruit trees or coconut, making use of shaded land that otherwise might be underutilized.

And here’s another thought—why not cook konjac together with rice? If it can stretch our rice supply, even by 20% or 30%, that could mean savings for households and less pressure on rice imports.

The truth is, our food culture is shaped by perceptions. If we can overcome the stigma that certain staples are “only for the poor,” we open ourselves to more diverse, resilient, and nutritious diets. Corn, cassava, taro, and now possibly konjac—these are all part of our agricultural heritage waiting to be embraced.

Promoting konjac will require awareness campaigns, farmer training, and small-scale processing facilities. But given the global demand for low-calorie, high-fiber foods, the potential market is not just local—it could be regional or even international.

If other countries can turn konjac into a billion-peso industry, why can’t we?

So, should we give konjac a try? My answer is yes. It doesn’t compete with rice lands, it can grow where rice doesn’t, and it can help diversify our food sources. Who knows—someday, it might just become a proud part of our Filipino food culture.

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

10-07-2025 

WHY ARE MALAYSIANS AND INDONESIANS SPENDING LESS FOR HOSPITALIZATION?

WHY ARE MALAYSIANS AND INDONESIANS SPENDING LESS FOR HOSPITALIZATION?

In his latest SONA, the President proudly announced that the zero-balance billing rule now applies in all Department of Health (DOH) hospitals. That means, if you are confined in any DOH-run hospital, you don’t have to pay a single centavo—whether for medicines, procedures, or room charges.

However, I have also heard from other sources that this rule applies to all government-owned hospitals, not just those directly operated by the DOH. If that is indeed true, it would be like a dream come true: universal access to hospitalization for every Filipino citizen in public hospitals.

If confirmed, that would mean we Filipinos would be better off than our Malaysian and Indonesian neighbors, who are already enjoying extremely low hospitalization costs. In Malaysia, citizens reportedly pay as little as 1 ringgit—around 13 pesos—for hospital treatment, no matter the procedure, even surgery. In Indonesia, the cost is also minimal, thanks to their national health insurance program.

Now imagine: if our zero-balance policy covers all public hospitals nationwide, then at least in terms of cost, our public healthcare would be at par with that of Canada—where citizens pay nothing at the point of service in public hospitals. Of course, the quality of service and availability of facilities are separate issues, but in principle, universal access would be achievable.

Here’s how it works elsewhere:

In Malaysia, hospitalization is not entirely free, but it is heavily subsidized for citizens. Government hospitals charge minimal fees—anywhere from RM 3 to RM 80 for hospitalization, depending on the ward class. Outpatient visits can be as cheap as RM 1 to RM 5. Their Social Security Organization (SOCSO) also provides free treatment for work-related injuries and illnesses. Foreigners, however, must pay full rates unless they have private insurance.

In Indonesia, the system is even closer to being fully universal. Through BPJS Kesehatan (their national health insurance), over 100 million Indonesians are covered for inpatient care, surgeries, and chronic disease treatment. Premiums are based on service class, with the cheapest being the equivalent of only about 3 US dollars per month. Citizens need to go through community health centers for referrals, but emergencies are covered. The downside? Long queues, shared rooms, and some hospitals reluctant to accept BPJS without the right paperwork.

Looking at these two examples, we see two important lessons. First, it is possible to make hospitalization almost free for citizens, without bankrupting the government, if there is a well-managed subsidy or insurance system. Second, the system must be monitored to ensure that the promise of affordability reaches the poorest citizens, and is not diluted by bureaucratic hurdles or underfunding.

In our case, even if the zero-balance billing policy is now in place, we need to ask: will it be implemented consistently across all public hospitals? Will patients really be discharged without having to beg relatives for money or pawn their belongings? And will medicines, diagnostic tests, and surgical supplies be fully included, or will patients still be asked to buy these outside?

There’s another question: how will this policy be funded in the long run? If the goal is to make it permanent, we need to ensure that PhilHealth, DOH, and local governments are aligned, properly funded, and transparent. Otherwise, what starts as a promising reform could turn into another failed program.

If this policy holds and works as promised, we could surpass Malaysia and Indonesia in this one critical measure of social welfare. But the real test will be in the details of implementation. Because while it’s nice to say, “We are now like Canada,” it will mean nothing if patients still have to bring their own bedding, buy their own oxygen, or pay “informal fees” just to get admitted.

For now, I will take the President at his word—but I will also keep my eyes and ears open. Universal healthcare in public hospitals is not just a political talking point; it’s a basic right that could finally lift millions of Filipinos from the fear of financial ruin every time they get sick.

And if we succeed, maybe one day, it will be Malaysians and Indonesians asking: “Why are Filipinos spending nothing for hospitalization?”

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

10-06-2025 

REGULATING THE HIRING OF RETIRED OR RESIGNED REGULATORS

REGULATING THE HIRING OF RETIRED OR RESIGNED REGULATORS

The good news is, we have laws that aim to prevent former employees or officials of regulatory agencies from being immediately hired by the companies they used to regulate. The bad news is, we seem to have no clear and effective system for monitoring whether these former regulators eventually end up working for those same companies—maybe not right away, but sooner or later.

And here’s the even worse news: the government is practically powerless to do anything if these “new hires” are compensated in cash or through secret bank accounts. Paper trails vanish quickly when the payment is designed to be invisible.

In the private sector, it’s much stricter. As I recall, there are explicit rules that prevent retired or resigned employees from joining competitors for at least one year. This is mostly to protect trade secrets—certain formulas, proprietary processes, client lists. Even if such clauses aren’t written into an employment contract, violators can still be pursued under industrial espionage or data privacy laws.

In government, however, the stakes are different—and arguably more serious. Here, it’s not just trade secrets at risk, but public safety and public trust. Imagine a regulator approving a dangerous product today, knowing full well they’ll be rewarded with a cushy corporate job tomorrow.

This is not a far-fetched scenario. In the United States, there have been documented cases of officials in the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) being bribed to approve medicines that should never have reached the market. And it’s not just about medicines—food products, chemicals, even construction materials can slip through the cracks when the system is corrupted.

We’d be naïve to think this could never happen in the Philippines. In fact, the danger is all too real: food and drug items that are unsafe for consumption, or industrial products that put lives at risk, could still be approved if the right palms are greased. And regulators aren’t the only ones vulnerable to this “revolving door” problem—judges and justices could also be tempted to rule a certain way with the promise of a future reward, whether in the form of a job, a consultancy, or some other financial arrangement.

So, what exactly does our law say? Republic Act No. 6713, the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Public Officials and Employees, prohibits public officials from having a financial or material interest in any transaction that requires the approval of their office. They also can’t engage in private business that conflicts with their duties. The law says they can’t be a board member, officer, or substantial stockholder of a company whose interests could be opposed to their official functions.

Here’s the catch: RA 6713 doesn’t explicitly say that you can’t join a regulated company after leaving your post. It does, however, imply that conflict-of-interest rules still apply if you use insider knowledge or influence gained from your former role. Agencies can impose cooling-off periods, but this is not standardized across the government.

Enforcement? On paper, the Office of the Ombudsman and the Civil Service Commission (CSC) are tasked with investigating and penalizing violators. There’s even Memorandum Circular No. 17 (1986), which reiterates that government employees can’t engage in private practice without written permission. But as any honest observer will admit, rules without rigorous monitoring and enforcement are just ink on paper.

So how do we close this loophole? First, regulatory agencies should adopt mandatory post-employment restrictions, such as a one- to three-year ban on joining companies they once regulated. This is already standard practice in many countries. Second, there should be a public registry of former regulators and their subsequent employment—accessible to journalists, watchdog groups, and citizens.

Third, whistleblower protections must be strengthened so that insiders can safely report any under-the-table arrangements. Fourth, there should be an independent oversight body—separate from the agencies themselves—to monitor compliance and investigate suspicious career moves.

Regulatory capture—the process by which private interests co-opt the agencies meant to oversee them—is a serious threat to governance. Without strict rules, we’re essentially telling regulators: “Go ahead, approve what you want today. Your reward will be waiting for you tomorrow.”

If the private sector can protect its interests by imposing hiring restrictions on former employees, surely the public sector can do the same—especially when public health, safety, and trust are at stake.

In the end, this is not just a legal issue, but a moral one. Public office is a public trust. That trust shouldn’t be traded away for a paycheck, whether it’s paid in the open or hidden in a secret account.

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

10-05-2025 

MR. RAMON ANG, PLEASE DO IT SCIENTIFICALLY

MR. RAMON ANG, PLEASE DO IT SCIENTIFICALLY

It seems that San Miguel Corporation President and CEO Ramon S. Ang is fed up like many of us with the perennial problem of floods in Metro Manila and nearby areas. But unlike the rest of us who can only complain or post on social media, Mr. Ang is no ordinary Filipino—he heads one of the biggest conglomerates in the country, and he is a billionaire, perhaps many times over.

That is why nobody doubts him when he says he will spend his own money—not a single centavo of government funds—for his flood control projects. In fact, he’s already done something similar before. Aside from building tollways and roads across the metropolis, he has also funded river dredging projects.

Nobody has officially measured the full effect of these dredging works, but common sense tells us that deeper rivers mean fewer and shallower floods. That’s simple physics: when water has somewhere to go, it doesn’t spill over as much.

I recall being shocked years ago during my radio program when an MMDA official told me, matter-of-factly, “It floods, because it rains.” Even without an engineering degree, I know why it rains—but it does not automatically follow that when it rains, it must flood.

The real problem is that in many parts of Metro Manila, drainage systems either don’t work or don’t exist at all. The same goes for sewerage systems—if we had them functioning properly, the impact of floods could be lessened.

Now, here’s where I hope Mr. Ang will do something different from the usual political approach. Since his work is independent from local politicians, he can lead by example and base his flood control strategy on science. That means inviting Filipino scientists—both here and abroad—to be part of the solution.

When I was still with the Department of Foreign Affairs as a Foreign Service Officer, I worked to bring home Filipino scientists from overseas. One of them was Dr. Amador Muriel, a world-renowned expert in fluid dynamics—the science of how fluids like water (and even lava) move. This is the kind of expertise we need if we are to deal with complex flooding issues effectively.

Aside from Dr. Muriel, there are hundreds of other Filipino scientists who can contribute. As the founder of the Roster of Scientists, Inventors and Engineers (ROSIE), I can say there’s a ready pool of talent willing to help. We could also tap members of the National Academy of Science and Technology (NAST), with whom I regularly engage in weekly forums under Future Earth Philippines.

Then there’s the DOST’s Balik Scientist Program, where I once served as DFA’s representative. Through this, overseas Filipino experts can be brought back to contribute to national projects.

Flood control isn’t just about dredging rivers or relocating people—it’s also about understanding water flow, pressure, and how urban landscapes affect them. That’s why fluid dynamics should be at the heart of any serious flood mitigation program.

Mr. Ang has already said he will buy land to relocate schools and housing away from flood-prone zones. He will also remove illegal structures along rivers that block waterways. These are practical and necessary steps. But if we combine these with scientifically designed drainage systems, predictive flood modeling, and climate-resilient urban planning, we can turn Metro Manila from a perennial flood victim into a model of resilience.

President Marcos has ordered an audit of government flood control projects, hinting at possible corruption. That’s good—but even without the corruption, many of these projects have been built without adequate scientific input. That’s why they often fail when the next big storm comes.

So, here’s my suggestion: Mr. Ang, proceed with your plan, but let it be guided by the best Filipino minds in hydrology, engineering, and urban planning. Invite them, listen to them, and give them the resources to apply their expertise. Flooding is not just an engineering challenge—it’s also a science challenge.

If we do this right, we could finally prove that flooding in Metro Manila is not an unavoidable curse, but a solvable problem.

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

10-04-2025 

HOW ARE WE DISPOSING COAL ASH IN THE PHILIPPINES?

HOW ARE WE DISPOSING COAL ASH IN THE PHILIPPINES?

We already know that coal-fired power plants continue to operate across the country. What we don’t always know is how we are disposing of the toxic byproducts they produce—especially coal ash.

Coal ash, which includes both fly ash and bottom ash, is a waste product from burning coal. It contains heavy metals like arsenic, mercury, and lead—substances we do not want to leak into our air, soil, or water.

Yes, of course, there are laws regulating the disposal of coal ash. We have a comprehensive legal framework:

• RA 6969 controls hazardous waste
• RA 8749 (Clean Air Act) regulates emissions and ash pollution
• RA 9003 governs solid waste
• DENR AO 2004-36 lays out how hazardous waste should be handled
• And even the Electric Power Industry Reform Act (EPIRA) touches on coal ash contracts

That’s impressive on paper. But here’s the real question: How do we know how much of these laws are being implemented?

There are agencies that are supposed to do the job—the DENR, its Environmental Management Bureau (EMB), the DOE, and our LGUs. But again, how do we know how well these agencies are doing their jobs?

Let me put this plainly: The people who live near coal ash disposal sites are the ones at risk. The victims are often communities with the least voice and the least access to health care.

So, let’s ask:

• Are these people getting sick?
• Is the DOH monitoring their health?
• Are the LGUs equipped and empowered to enforce regulations and protect their constituents?

These are not rhetorical questions. These are urgent matters that demand real answers.

Who's Supposed to Be Watching?

The DENR, through the EMB, is the main agency tasked with monitoring coal ash. They issue Environmental Compliance Certificates (ECCs) and are supposed to conduct regular site inspections. But there have been documented violations.

Take, for example, the Balili lot case in Cebu—no monitoring team, improper landfill lining. Result? A ₱200,000 fine. And let’s be honest—that’s a small price to pay for risking people’s health and the environment.

Or the case of Kepco-SPC in Naga, where residents filed environmental complaints over alleged air pollution and unsafe ash transport.

There’s also the alarming case of coal ash reaching Mandaue without proper regulation. That prompted a petition for a temporary environmental protection order.

If these things are happening in relatively urbanized and visible areas, what more in rural or remote towns where watchdogs are fewer, and people are less empowered to file complaints?

Are LGUs Ready?

LGUs are expected to manage solid waste under RA 9003, and they can even form Multipartite Monitoring Teams (MMTs) to monitor compliance. But forming a team and effectively running it are two different things.

How do we make sure that our LGUs are truly equipped to regulate and control coal ash waste? Not just in theory, but in practice? Are they trained? Funded? Supported by national agencies?

And what about the Department of Health (DOH)? Shouldn’t they be tracking how many people are getting sick in these affected communities? If coal ash contains carcinogens and neurotoxins, where are the health reports? Where’s the public data?

What Can Citizens Do?

You and I don’t have to wait for agencies to act. Here’s what we can do at the community level:

• Request copies of ECCs from your DENR regional office or LGU.
• Join or help form an MMT in your barangay.
• Conduct local health and environmental surveys.
• Report suspected violations through the DENR’s Environmental Compliance Assistance Center (ECAC).

But even these small actions are hard if ordinary people don’t have the time, resources, or connections. That’s why we need stronger systems, not just better laws.

Final Word

It’s not enough that coal ash is being "recycled" into cement or road base. That might sound eco-friendly, but who is testing for safety? Pozzolanic Philippines, for instance, processes fly ash from coal plants, but who’s checking that the final product doesn't pose health risks?

At the end of the day, coal ash is toxic. If not handled with strict oversight, it poisons our people, our land, and our future.

We need full transparency. We need honest enforcement. And most of all, we need to protect the people who have no choice but to live next to these plants.

So, I ask again:

• How are we disposing of coal ash in the Philippines?
• And more importantly: How are we making sure no one is getting hurt in the process?

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

10-03-2025