senseneres: February 2026

Tuesday, February 24, 2026

SAVING THE VISAYAN LEOPARD CAT

What’s bigger than your house cat but smaller than a tiger? What carries the name “leopard” yet is no leopard at all? Meet the elusive, beautifully spotted forest feline that rightly deserves front-page attention: the Visayan leopard cat (scientific name Prionailurus bengalensis rabori).

Endemic to the Philippines, it can only be found—if one is lucky and forests remain—on the islands of Panay and Negros. It has close relatives in Borneo and Sumatra, yet this Visayan version is uniquely ours.

The good news is: we have a native wild cat that’s part of our natural heritage.
The bad news is: it’s under threat—all but missing the data we need to save it properly.

What do we actually know?

This cat is about the size of a larger house cat: agile, slender, alert. Its coat is dark ochre to buffy fawn, adorned with large dark spots. Its skull is narrower than its Sumatran or Bornean cousins. It lives mostly in remaining forest fragments on Panay and Negros, and even in sugar-cane fields where forest has been cleared.

But here’s a wrench: we do not have reliable, recent population numbers for how many individuals remain in the wild or captivity. One source says the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) listing lacks a total population size. Another indicates it was listed as “vulnerable” in 2008, with a decreasing trend. Without those baseline numbers, how can we define clear conservation targets, how many breeding pairs we need, or whether a captive breeding program can even start safely?

We have questions—and we should.

Do we have enough breeding pairs in the wild (or in captivity) to maintain genetic health?
Are local conservation units equipped and resourced to track it properly?
Have we set clear targets for new births, territory restoration, population growth?
Should oversight be only by the Biodiversity Management Bureau (BMB) under Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR), or should there be stronger linkage with higher-education institutions (for research) and private sector or NGOs (for funding, public awareness)?
Which local government units (LGUs), NGOs, private entities should be mobilised and empowered?

What’s happening now?

There are conservation efforts:

Rescues: Juvenile cats have been rescued in places like Talisay City, Negros Occidental.
Protected areas and captive-conservation: For example, the Mariit Wildlife and Conservation Park in Lambunao, Iloilo (Panay) houses five Visayan leopard cats.
Private recognition: A resort (KGM Resorts) has highlighted the species in its blog, indicating private-sector interest.

These are commendable. But we must ask: is that enough? Are resources sufficient? Are efforts coordinated across LGUs, DENR/BMB, academia, private sector and community stakeholders?

What can be done — suggestions for action

Establish a baseline survey: Funded by DENR/BMB with university partners (e.g., University of the Philippines College of Veterinary Medicine, or local veterinary/biology faculties) to determine current numbers, sex/age structure, territory size, threats.
Develop clear conservation targets: For example, “breed X individuals within Y years”, “restore Z hectares of forest in Panay/Negros”, “establish corridors between remnant patches”. Without targets, we cannot measure success.
Mobilise stakeholder network:

LGUs in Panay and Negros: support habitat protection, local awareness campaigns.
Private entities like KGM Resorts: recognition + financial support—for example adopt-a-pair programmes, corporate-sponsored habitat restoration.
NGOs: empower local biodiversity groups to conduct monitoring, community outreach.
Academia and DOST (Department of Science and Technology): studies on genetics, breeding‐behavior, veterinary needs, habitat modelling.

Integrated awareness campaign:

Could the Philippine Postal Corporation feature the Visayan leopard cat on a stamp? Perhaps the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas could use its image on banknotes or commemorative coins. This helps build national pride and awareness.
School curricula: include modules on endemic species like this cat, its role in ecosystems (rodent control, indicator species) and why its survival matters.

Community-based conservation and sustainable livelihoods: Involve barangays living near forest fragments. For example, ecotourism is tied to forest trails with real time watching, native tree nurseries, rodent-control services (since the cats help farmers naturally). The cats become allies, not pests.
Legal enforcement and habitat protection: Ensure wildlife protection laws (e.g., RA 9147) are enforced; strengthen protected-area management; halt illegal logging and land conversion in key forest patches. For example, on Panay and Negros forest loss has been devastating (90-95% of natural habitat reportedly gone) so habitat restoration is urgent.

My reflections and call to action

It pains me to write this, because the picture is sobering. We have an endemic wild cat, beautiful and ecologically important, and yet its survival is precarious. The lack of concrete data is alarming: how many are left? Can we ensure genetic diversity? Are there enough in captivity to breed? Do we even know where they roam? Without answering these, conservation is a shot in the dark.

This should not be a project only for wildlife specialists. Protecting the Visayan leopard cat should be a whole-of-nation effort: government, private sector, academia, local communities—everyone has a part. Time is ticking.

To the LGUs of Panay and Negros: you are guardians of this cat’s last homes. To the DENR/BMB: you hold the mandate—but do you hold the resources and coordination power? To our universities and DOST: study this cat, design the breeding programme, monitor genetic health, train our conservation workforce. To our private firms and individuals: adopt a pair, restore a forest patch, raise awareness in your networks.

And to all Filipinos: imagine a future where our children and grandchildren know wild Visayan forests—and the maral still prowls there. A future where our endemic cat still plays its natural role—rodent control, ecosystem balance—rather than being just a footnote in extinction reports.

Let’s shine the spotlight on the Visayan leopard cat—not just to save it, but to save its forest home and in so doing, ourselves. Because when we lose a species like this, we lose part of our identity. Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com

09088877282/02-25-2026

Monday, February 23, 2026

THAILAND IS ERADICATING INVASIVE TILAPIA SPECIES

While we are still arguing whether or not to eradicate invasive tilapia species, Thailand has already gone ahead and done it. That makes me wonder: what does Thailand know that we do not know? And what does Thailand have that we do not have?

Their dilemma is not very different from ours. On one hand, many people in Thailand—and here in the Philippines—rely on tilapia farming for their livelihood. On the other hand, tilapia are notorious for destroying biodiversity, devouring the eggs and fingerlings of native or endemic species. The conflict between ecological protection and economic necessity makes this a political issue as much as it is an environmental one.

In Thailand’s case, they are dealing specifically with the blackfin tilapia (Sarotherodon melanotheron), a species native to West Africa that was discovered in Thai waters only in 2010 but has since spread to 19 provinces. Scientists there say that a single female can produce up to 500 fry at a time—imagine that level of reproduction in an open river system! Since 2018, the species has rapidly multiplied, threatening not only natural ecosystems but also Thailand’s own aquaculture industry.

Instead of endless debates, Thailand chose action. Their government launched a massive campaign to eradicate the invasive fish—through the simplest and most practical method of all: eat them. They pay 15 baht per kilogram (around ₱24) for every blackfin tilapia caught, and since February 2024, more than 1.3 million kilograms have been collected. To make this possible, they opened 75 marketplaces nationwide where people can sell the caught fish. Restaurants have even started adding “invasive tilapia” dishes to their menus.

That’s what I call turning a crisis into an opportunity.

They are also using biological control, introducing predatory fish that can help naturally reduce the tilapia population. In the longer term, Thai scientists are developing genetically modified strains that will produce sterile offspring—a high-tech solution that we could learn from.

But make no mistake: the problem has been costly. The invasion has caused an estimated 10 billion baht (about ₱16.3 billion) in damage to Thailand’s fisheries and ecosystems. In fact, a class-action lawsuit has been filed against Charoen Pokphand Foods, one of Thailand’s largest agribusiness firms, alleging that its operations contributed to the spread of the invasive species. That case alone should serve as a warning to us about corporate accountability in environmental management.

Here in the Philippines, tilapia (especially Oreochromis niloticus, or Nile tilapia) has long been one of our top aquaculture products. BFAR reports show that we produce over 300,000 metric tons annually—feeding millions and sustaining thousands of small farmers. Tilapia is cheap, fast-growing, and resilient. But therein lies the danger: what happens when those very traits turn destructive in the wild?

I am not taking sides in this issue. I am simply calling upon our government to conduct serious, science-based studies on whether to ban or regulate invasive species. We need to know the ecological and economic consequences of both actions. And if we decide to keep farming tilapia, we must ensure that they do not escape into rivers, lakes, and estuaries where they can outcompete native species.

In the meantime, I would advocate for growing native and endemic fish such as bangus (milkfish) and maliputo. These are part of our natural aquatic heritage and should be promoted both for conservation and commerce.

At the same time, I strongly suggest we already ban invasive species that have no economic value, such as janitor fish and knife fish, which have infested the Pasig River and Laguna de Bay. These species offer no benefit to our fisheries and only worsen ecological imbalance.

I know that BFAR is doing something about invasive species management, but it would help if the bureau were more transparent and proactive in reporting its accomplishments. The public deserves to know what progress is being made.

We should also close our borders to the importation of fingerlings and breeder stocks of invasive species—before another “tilapia problem” happens again. And while we’re at it, I’d like to ask: do we even have the technology to distinguish between our native hito (catfish) and the African catfish? If we don’t, then we may end up banning our own native species by mistake.

And what about cream dory or pangasius? This species from the Mekong River has become a popular local product, and many Filipino farmers are earning well from it. But has anyone studied its long-term effect on our biodiversity?

Perhaps the Biodiversity Management Bureau (BMB) could take the lead in addressing these questions. But if we expect them to do more, we should also give them more funding. After all, the price of ecological ignorance is far greater than the cost of research.

Thailand’s example teaches us that decisive, science-based action can make a difference. They are not waiting for consensus—they are protecting their ecosystems before it’s too late. The Philippines, with its rich aquatic diversity, cannot afford to lag behind.

The question now is: do we have the political will to act—or will we keep debating while our rivers slowly lose their native life?

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com

09088877282/02-24-2026

Sunday, February 22, 2026

DO WE NEED A CABINET COORDINATOR?

There’s a Latin phrase often bandied about in discussions of government protocol: primus inter pares—first among equals. In the US, the Secretary of State, though formally just one among many Cabinet-level officials, enjoys that position in many respects, especially in diplomacy. In the Philippines, the story is more complex—and perhaps overdue for clarifying reform.

What we know, what we suspect

Originally, after the Philippines achieved independence, the Secretary of Foreign Affairs (DFA) held a protocol rank akin to primus inter pares. This made sense because (1) foreign affairs was among the first departments established; and (2) the role resonates with the American model where external relations carry great prestige and influence.

But over time, the role of Executive Secretary was created (formally in 1936, according to sources). Slowly, that position has come to subsume much of what being “first among equals” once implied for the DFA Secretary. The Executive Secretary is often called the “Little President”—a sobriquet that hints at power. Under the Administrative Code (EO No. 292), the Executive Secretary is the President’s “chief alter-ego,” can review and modify decisions of other Cabinet secretaries (on appeal), issue orders in the name of the President, and direct operations of the Executive Office.

The DFA Secretary, meanwhile, remains a major Cabinet member with important duties (foreign policy, international relations). But in matters of internal government coordination or inter-departmental policy coherence, the DFA officer does not preside. The Executive Secretary does—or at least, has the legal and institutional basis for doing so.

Why the question arises: gaps, overlaps, and the need for clarity

Reading protocol is one thing; making the machinery of government work is another. Here are some issues that suggest a Cabinet coordinator (or equivalent) is not just ceremonial but necessary:

Coordination across departments is often weak. Policies from one department may conflict with another. Clusters exist in theory (such as economic cluster, infrastructure cluster, health/social cluster), but how well these are coordinated—especially across bureaucratic lines—varies.
Speed of decision-making often depends on informal channels. If no one has a clear coordinating mandate, decisions stall or bounce around.
Accountability and clarity suffer. When things go wrong—say, in inter-agency programs or crisis response—it’s often hard to say who should have been ensuring alignment.

These are problems of structure, not simply personnel. People can try to fill gaps, but without clearly defined roles, functions, authority, and protocols, they may be blocked, bypassed, or overruled.

The Executive Secretary: de facto coordinator?

Given the legal powers of the Executive Secretary under Philippine law (EO 292), the role already can perform many coordination functions. It can act for the President; it can modify Cabinet secretaries’ decisions; it supervises Executive Office operations.

So, does that mean we really need a separate “Cabinet Coordinator”? Maybe not in formal title—but it may mean that we need someone who is explicitly charged (with clarity) to coordinate the Cabinet, to monitor the clusters, to serve as a hub of inter-departmental liaison. This might be (1) the Executive Secretary themselves, (2) a subordinate (e.g., a Deputy Executive Secretary), or (3) a specially created post.

My opinion: yes, we need a Cabinet coordinator (but not necessarily a new post)

Here’s what I believe:

The title “Cabinet Coordinator” is less important than clarity in function. What matters is that someone is responsible (not merely nominally) for ensuring Cabinet coherence, cluster alignment, avoiding redundancy, and harmonizing conflicting policies.
That someone does not need to be a separate Cabinet-rank secretary. In fact, duplicating Cabinet ranks risks confusion and turf wars. Better to use existing roles but clarify their duties.
The Executive Secretary is the logical candidate: already endowed by law with much of the power; already acts as an access point between departments and the President. What the government needs is a formal assignment of coordinating authority (possibly via an executive order or even amendment of the administrative code) so everyone understands where responsibility lies.

Questions we must ask

Do the cluster heads really have to report to someone beyond the department secretaries to ensure they follow cluster directives?
Does the PMS (Presidential Management Staff) have the capacity and mandate to be the brain or think-tank, and the coordinator? Or are those conflicting roles?
What checks exist to prevent one “coordinator” from becoming too powerful (or undermining departmental autonomy)?

Comparative perspective

Looking at other countries might help:

In the UK, the Cabinet Secretary (civil servant) coordinates Cabinet business and supports the Prime Minister.
In Japan, the Chief Cabinet Secretary has both policy coordination and messaging duties.
In the US, though the White House Chief of Staff is not a Cabinet member, functionally, they coordinate presidential priorities, Cabinet-level decisions, and ensure coherence across the executive branch.

Philippines’ Executive Secretary role is somewhere between the UK and US model—strong, but under-utilized in certain respects.

Suggestions for reform

Clarify via legislation or executive order what “Cabinet coordination” entails: who reports to whom, what oversight there is, how conflicts are resolved.
Formalize cluster coordination with regular meetings, transparent reporting, key performance indicators. Tying budget releases or project approvals to adherence to cluster decisions could help enforce coordination.
Consider appointing a Deputy Executive Secretary or Assistant who is explicitly “Coordinator of Cabinet Clusters”—someone with no ambiguous role but one recognized across all departments as the point person.
Improve information systems to facilitate real-time inter-agency cooperation (data sharing, communication lines). If ordinary citizens coordinate by networks and social media, the government also needs institutional equivalents (though secure and accountable).

In conclusion

Yes—we do need a Cabinet coordinator, not as a symbolic position, but as a practical anchor for coherence in government. The Executive Secretary already could serve—or already is serving in some respects—this role. What is missing is formal clarity, mandated functions, and institutional accountability.

Unless we address this, the ready-made coordination gaps will continue to slow us down, produce contradictory policies, and reduce public trust. Protocol isn’t just about who is seated where; it’s about who is expected to act, to align, and to deliver. Cabinet coordination is too important a function to leave unspoken, inconsistent, or broken.

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com

09088877282/02-23-2026