WILDLIFE PROTECTION VERSUS AQUACULTURE PROMOTION

 WILDLIFE PROTECTION VERSUS AQUACULTURE PROMOTION

Some call it a tension; I call it a lack of coordination. Or perhaps it is coordination—or the lack thereof—that is at the heart of the tension.

On one hand, we have the Biodiversity Management Bureau (BMB) under the DENR, tasked with protecting our wildlife and ecosystems. On the other hand, we have the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources (BFAR) under the Department of Agriculture, tasked with promoting food production and food security. These are both noble mandates. The problem is, when the two agencies pursue their goals without aligning with each other, we end up with conflict instead of complementarity.

Take one case in point: the BMB wants to protect our native freshwater species in rivers and lakes, while BFAR promotes tilapia culture. Tilapia may be cheap, resilient, and fast-growing, but it is an invasive species that preys on or outcompetes native fish. This leaves us with a paradox: in trying to ensure food on the table today, are we sacrificing biodiversity—and future food security—for tomorrow?

Another case: BMB wants to preserve the biodiversity in swamplands and wetlands, which are natural habitats for migratory birds, amphibians, and native fishes. BFAR, however, has historically promoted the conversion of swamplands into fishponds. That creates jobs, yes, but at the cost of losing entire ecosystems. Do we really have to choose one over the other?

The key to biodiversity management is balance. But how do we keep that balance?

I believe the solution is not just in the hands of BMB and BFAR. We need LGUs, the DOST, state universities, NGOs, and people’s organizations all sitting at the same table. In fact, I would go further: let us bring these issues to the Regional Development Councils (RDCs), where cross-sectoral coordination is possible. Food security and environmental sustainability should not be treated as separate silos—they are two sides of the same coin.

Globally, aquaculture is no longer a small side industry. It now provides more than 50% of aquatic food consumed worldwide, and demand is projected to double by 2050. This makes aquaculture indispensable. At the same time, conservationists warn that if aquaculture is done recklessly, it can cause ecological collapse—disease outbreaks, invasive species proliferation, and water pollution from fish feeds.

In Southeast Asia, several countries are now experimenting with sustainable aquaculture models. For instance, integrated mangrove-aquaculture systems allow shrimp and fish to be farmed while still maintaining biodiversity corridors. In Vietnam, farmers are testing closed-loop aquaculture that recycles nutrients and reduces waste. Why can’t we do the same here?

One promising approach is to prioritize native species for aquaculture, such as milkfish, catfish, and indigenous carps, instead of relying too heavily on imported or invasive species. Another is to invest in circular design systems: fish cages that minimize waste, wetlands that double as natural filters, and community-led monitoring of disease risks.

Here are some ideas that might help bridge the divide:

1. Policy Integration – Let aquaculture development be embedded within LGU biodiversity action plans and zoning ordinances. Don’t let one agency push for fishponds where another agency has declared critical habitats.
   
   

2. Community Co-management – Empower fisherfolk and indigenous peoples to co-manage aquaculture areas side by side with protected zones. After all, they are the most affected by both biodiversity loss and food shortages.
   
   

3. Eco-certification and Traceability – Promote aquaculture products that are certified as “biodiversity-friendly” or “sustainably farmed.” Consumers, especially in cities, are increasingly willing to pay for products that are good for both the people and the planet.
   
   

4. Restorative Infrastructure – Let’s think beyond fishponds and cages. Why not create aquaculture learning sites that also serve as biodiversity hubs, eco-tourism areas, or even cultural heritage parks?
   
   

At the end of the day, food security is important, but so is environmental sustainability. If we continue to push one at the expense of the other, we all lose. The better path is not “either-or” but “both-and.” Both food on the table and biodiversity in our rivers, lakes, and wetlands. Both livelihood for fisherfolk and conservation for future generations.

The challenge, therefore, is not to pick sides but to design governance systems where BMB and BFAR work hand in hand, instead of at cross purposes. We cannot afford turf wars in a time of climate crisis, dwindling biodiversity, and rising food demand. What we need is participatory governance, with RDCs as the platform, and circular thinking as the guiding principle.

Because in the long run, the survival of both our people and our planet depends not on competition, but on coordination.

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-25-2025

BREEDING AND REWILDING LOBED RIVER MULLET

 BREEDING AND REWILDING LOBED RIVER MULLET

The good news is that our government has kickstarted a lobed river mullet (ludong) conservation project through Oplan Sagip Ludong, initiated by BFAR Region 2. The bad news is that this project is likely not getting enough funding, support, or attention. For now, it remains mainly a regional initiative, when it should be a national priority.

Ludong, scientifically known as Cestraeus goldiei, is no ordinary fish. It is rare, seasonal, and herbivorous, feeding exclusively on river algae. It is also catadromous—meaning it migrates downstream to the sea to spawn before returning upstream. That makes it doubly vulnerable to overfishing, dam construction, and river pollution. No wonder it is often called the “President’s Fish” because of its high market value and exclusivity. At one point, it was selling at ₱4,000 to ₱5,000 per kilo in local markets. But behind the prestige lies a sobering reality: ludong is classified as “near endangered” or “near threatened.”

If we don’t act now, it could slip down the ladder of conservation categories: from “vulnerable” to “endangered,” to “critically endangered,” and eventually to “extinct in the wild.” And once it’s gone, there’s no turning back.

Here are my questions: what is the actual surviving population of ludong today? What are the numerical targets for the next five years? Unless BFAR and DENR publish these numbers, the public will remain in the dark, and accountability will be weak. Conservation is not just about slogans; it’s about measurable outcomes.

Another concern is the enforcement of the ban on catching and selling ludong. Reports suggest that despite the prohibition, ludong still finds its way to black markets and private dining tables. If this is true, then implementation is failing. Moreover, we must extend the ban to cover ludong roe (fish eggs), because harvesting eggs directly threatens the next generation of the species.

Beyond enforcement, we need science. The Department of Science and Technology (DOST) should accelerate genetic barcoding studies to clarify whether ludong populations in Luzon are truly unique or related to lobed river mullets found in Sulawesi, Vanuatu, or Fiji. If the Luzon ludong is genetically distinct, then it deserves the full weight of “endemic species” protection. If not, then at the very least, we can learn from regional conservation models. Either way, scientific clarity is essential.

What’s missing, in my view, is a comprehensive rewilding program. Breeding ludong in captivity is only half the battle. To rebuild healthy river populations, we need rewilding efforts aligned with watershed rehabilitation and anti-pollution campaigns. Otherwise, even if hatcheries succeed, there will be no suitable habitats for restocking. BFAR’s research centers in Claveria and Aparri are commendable first steps, but they must be scaled up, not left struggling with limited funding.

Let us also broaden the collaboration. Why is this effort mainly BFAR’s alone? Where is the DENR, which oversees freshwater ecosystems? Where is DOST, which could provide scientific innovation? Where is the DA, which could link conservation with fisherfolk livelihoods? Even LGUs along the Cagayan River basin should be fully mobilized. Without multi-agency coordination, the program risks becoming another well-meaning but underfunded project.

Globally, the lobed river mullet (Cestraeus plicatilis) has been recorded in places like Sulawesi, Okinawa, and New Caledonia. However, these are scattered populations, possibly even distinct species. In the Philippines, ludong’s story is not just ecological but cultural—woven into the identity of Cagayan Valley communities. Protecting it is both a scientific obligation and a matter of heritage.

So, what do we do next?

1. Nationalize Oplan Sagip Ludong. Turn it into a flagship biodiversity program, not just a regional experiment.
   
   

2. Set clear population targets. Publish baseline numbers and five-year goals to measure progress.
   
   

3. Strengthen enforcement. Include a ban on the sale of ludong roe and crack down on black markets.
   
   

4. Invest in science. Push for genetic studies, captive breeding, and rewilding programs.
   
   

5. Align with river rehabilitation. A healthy ludong population depends on clean, flowing rivers.
   
   

6. Promote fisherfolk participation. Give local communities a stake in protection—through ecotourism, conservation-linked livelihoods, or hatchery partnerships.
   
   

The ludong is a symbol of what we stand to lose if we neglect our rivers. It is also a symbol of what we could achieve if we align science, policy, and community action. The choice is ours: let ludong become a legend of the past—or let it swim again in abundance, a living testament to Filipino stewardship.

The question remains: will we wait for this species to vanish before acting decisively, or will we breed and rewild it now while we still have the chance?

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-24-2025

KICK STARTING SUPER WOOD RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT IN THE PHILIPPINES

 KICK STARTING SUPER WOOD RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT IN THE PHILIPPINES

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

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

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

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

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

So, what should we do?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-23-2025

NO MORE ACCIDENT-PRONE AREAS

 NO MORE ACCIDENT-PRONE AREAS

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

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

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

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

Shouldn’t we demand better?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-22-2025

LET’S REVIVE OUR SWAMPLANDS

  LET’S REVIVE OUR SWAMPLANDS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-21-2025

FILIPINO TINY HOMES, ANYONE?

 FILIPINO TINY HOMES, ANYONE?

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

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

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

Are Tiny Homes Just a Fad?

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

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

Policy and Financing Must Catch Up

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

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

The Filipino Twist

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

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

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

Tiny Homes for Disaster Resilience

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

A Home is Still a Home

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

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

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

12-20-2025