THE NETHERLANDS SOLVES STRAY DOG PROBLEM

THE NETHERLANDS SOLVES STRAY DOG PROBLEM

Imagine this: a whole country with no stray dogs on the streets. No packs roaming at night. No hungry puppies in drainage canals. No rabid bites blamed on “asong gala.” Hard to believe—but this is now the reality in the Netherlands, the first country in the world to have effectively eliminated stray dogs.

So I ask: what kind of country can do that? Only “civilized” countries? But if that is true, why does animal cruelty still exist even in many so-called civilized nations? And why, closer to home, is dog meat consumption still quietly tolerated in some areas of the Philippines?

According to international animal welfare reports, the Dutch success did not come from magic. It came from discipline, compassion, and strong governance. The backbone of their strategy was mass sterilization, known as the Collect, Neuter, Vaccinate, and Return (CNVR) program. Dogs were not culled—they were spayed, neutered, vaccinated, and responsibly returned or adopted. The result: no uncontrolled breeding, no explosion of stray populations.

This was reinforced by strict animal welfare laws. Abandoning or abusing a dog carries heavy penalties. In short, in the Netherlands, owning a pet is a legal responsibility, not just an emotional choice. Add to that their high adoption culture, well-funded shelters, and even taxes on dog ownership and breeding to discourage irresponsible pet keeping.

But perhaps the most powerful factor is culture. In Dutch cities, you will see dogs in bike baskets, under café tables, and even on public transport. Dogs are not treated as pests. They are treated as family.

Globally, the contrast is brutal. The World Health Organization estimates that there are over 200 million stray dogs worldwide. The Netherlands has virtually zero.

Now the uncomfortable question: what can the Philippines learn from this? We actually already have laws—such as the Animal Welfare Act (RA 8485, as amended by RA 10631)—but enforcement is weak, budgets are thin, and coordination among LGUs is often absent. We wait for complaints. We react after bites. We conduct occasional round-ups. Then the problem returns.

And let us be honest: the stray dog issue is not only about animal rights. It is also a public health issue. Rabies is still present in the Philippines. Many dog bite victims are poor people who cannot afford the expensive post-exposure vaccines. What is the long-term plan of the government for them—keep paying for emergency treatment instead of preventing the problem at its root?

I am personally against euthanasia as a mass solution. Killing dogs does not solve overpopulation. Sterilization does. Education does. Accountability does.

Yes, LGUs face many urgent concerns—flooding, garbage, crime, hunger. But does that mean compassion must always be postponed? If the Netherlands could integrate animal welfare into its governance system, why can’t we even make it a serious local policy priority?

So here is my challenge:
Why can’t our cities launch nationwide, sustained, and funded CNVR programs?
Why can’t we strictly penalize abandonment?
Why can’t adoption be the norm instead of buying puppies online?

The Dutch model proves one powerful truth: the stray dog crisis is not solved by elimination—it is solved by responsibility.

And responsibility, in the end, is not imported.
It is chosen.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/09-22-2026

INDIGENOUS TRIBES AS STEWARDS OF NATIVE TREES IN THE FORESTS

INDIGENOUS TRIBES AS STEWARDS OF NATIVE TREES IN THE FORESTS

This is not a new idea at all. In fact, it is probably one of the oldest and most proven “environmental programs” on the planet. For thousands of years, long before the DENR, before NCIP, before climate summits and carbon credits, our indigenous tribes were already protecting forests and native trees as a way of life.

They did not call it sustainability. They simply called it survival.

That is why I keep asking: Why not finally make this role of our Indigenous Peoples (IPs) official, formal, and fully supported by the government? Why not create a funded national program—perhaps jointly under the NCIP and the DENR—that formally recognizes IPs as the primary stewards of our native forests?

The logic is simple. Indigenous tribes in the Philippines are among the most effective protectors of forests because their culture, food, medicine, housing, and spiritual life all depend on the land. Destroy the forest, and you destroy the tribe. Protect the forest, and you protect their future.

In many areas, IPs already have Certificate of Ancestral Domain Titles (CADTs). This means their ownership is now legally recognized and theoretically secure. Yet here is the tragedy: many of them still do not have stable sources of livelihood, even while sitting on lands rich in biodiversity and forest resources.

So why not help them through agroforestry using native trees?
Why not support them to plant narra, molave, almaciga, bamboo, fruit-bearing native trees, and other high-value species—not for illegal logging, but for long-term, regulated production for lumber, paper, resins, food, and ecological restoration?

For food security alone, they can grow native and marketable fruit trees—durian, lanzones, rambutan, cacao, coffee, pili, and many others. The knowledge is already there. We do not need to teach them how to plant. They have been doing it for generations. What they lack is access to financing, post-harvest processing, and stable markets.

This is where the government, banks, cooperatives, and the private sector should come in.

Around the country, there are already powerful examples. The Higaonon in Mindanao protects thousands of hectares of ancestral forest. The Manobo in Bukidnon practice “rainforestation” using native species to prevent floods. The Ifugao integrate trees into their rice terrace systems for soil and water conservation. These are not experiments. These are working models.

Let us not forget that the Philippines is one of only 18 mega-biodiverse countries in the world, with nearly half of its plant and animal species found nowhere else. Many of these species survive precisely because indigenous communities live within our Key Biodiversity Areas. They are our frontline defenders of life itself.

My question is this:
Why do we spend billions on imported solutions to deforestation while ignoring the people who already know how to stop it?

If we are serious about climate change, reforestation, food security, and rural poverty, then empowering Indigenous Peoples as official stewards of native forests is not just cultural respect—it is smart national policy.

Help them keep the forests standing.
Help them earn from trees without killing the forest.
Help them process and market what they sustainably produce.

In doing so, we will not only protect trees.
We will protect cultures, livelihoods, watersheds, biodiversity—and the soul of this country.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/09-21-2026

WHY IS THE PHILIPPINES THE WORLD’S BIGGEST SOURCE OF OCEAN TRASH?

WHY IS THE PHILIPPINES THE WORLD’S BIGGEST SOURCE OF OCEAN TRASH?

I fully agree with Cardinal Pablo Virgilio “Ambo” David when he said we must finally face a national shame: the Philippines is now ranked as the world’s number one source of ocean trash. That fact alone should shake us to the core. Not number one in education. Not in good governance. But in polluting the seas that feed us.

In his painful but necessary reflection titled “The Shame We Must Finally Face: The Philippines Is the World’s #1 Source of Ocean Trash,” Cardinal David did not mince his words. He reminded us that more than 20 years ago, we already passed one of the most progressive laws in Asia—RA 9003, the Ecological Solid Waste Management Act. The law is clear: segregation at source, composting, recycling first—only residual waste goes to landfills.

Yet, as he lamented, “We continue a national habit of throwing everything together—biodegradable, recyclable, hazardous—into the same black bag, the same truck, the same dumpsite.” Because of this, even so-called sanitary landfills become unsanitary landfills.

The Cardinal did not stop at household discipline. He boldly exposed corruption at the LGU level—a point that deserves national outrage. According to him, “Too many LGUs opted for the easy way out—hauling and dumping,” because corruption grows fat on hauling contracts and tipping fees instead of real waste reduction systems. Let me be blunt: in the long run, this could become a bigger corruption scandal than the flood control scams—because this one slowly kills our rivers, our seas, our food supply, and our children’s future.

Look at Navotas, he said, where leachate from dumpsites poisoned aquaculture, killed livelihoods, and threatened food security. Then he asked, “Where in the world do fishponds become garbage pits? In the Philippines.” That line alone should haunt every local official.

Science confirms this moral indictment. Global studies show that the Philippines contributes about 36% of the world’s ocean plastic waste. Seven of the world’s top ten most polluting rivers—including the Pasig River, which alone accounts for about 6.4% of global river plastic pollution—are in our country. Add to that our dangerous dependence on single-use plastics and sachets, weak waste collection systems, and thousands of coastal communities living right beside waterways—and the result is a perfect storm of plastic leakage.

But the Cardinal reminds us: “Guilt is not the ending. Repentance is.” And repentance means change.

Yes, the people must listen. Segregation must begin at home. But this is a vicious cycle. Even if families segregate, mayors must do their part by building real sanitary landfills, Materials Recovery Facilities (MRFs), and composting centers—not just dumpsites disguised as solutions.

We must stop treating the ocean as a bottomless pit. As Cardinal David said, this is “a sin against creation, against the poor, and against future generations.” Strong words—but painfully accurate.

My question is simple: How much longer will we tolerate leaders who profit from garbage while our seas drown in plastic? If we can mobilize for elections and disasters, why can’t we mobilize for clean rivers?

Our national goal should be nothing less than this: the cleanest seas and rivers in the world. We already hold the worst record. It’s time we aim for the best.

And as the Cardinal pleaded: “We can do better.”
Yes, we must—before the next generation inherits not seashells, but our plastic shame.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/09-20-2026

WHAT IS DROUGHT CONTROL?

 WHAT IS DROUGHT CONTROL?

At first, the phrase might sound like a bad punchline — “drought control,” as if we could just flip a switch and make rain. But taken seriously, drought control is not a joke. It may not stop nature from withholding rain, but it gives us the tools to manage scarcity, to protect communities, and to save lives when dry seasons come.

We all know what flood control is: building dikes, dredging rivers, building spillways. But what about the opposite problem — when there is not enough water? That’s where drought control comes in.

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Two Sides of the Same Coin: Floods and Droughts

Some parts of our country are drowning; others are parched. In one province, floods wash away crops; in another, months go by with no rain and rivers dry up. Yet many of our water- management projects treat floods and droughts as entirely separate challenges. What if they weren’t separate at all?

Imagine if our retention ponds, reservoirs, check-dams, and flood-control infrastructure were designed also to capture extra rainwater — to be used later during droughts. That way, flood control becomes dual-purpose water security infrastructure: saving lives during floods, and preserving water for lean months.

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What Drought Control Actually Is

Drought control isn’t magic. It’s preparedness, resource management, conservation, governance, and community support — a holistic strategy to cushion the blow when rainfall fails.

Key elements:

• Monitoring and early warning systems — tracking rainfall, soil moisture, reservoir levels. Using drought-severity indices to alert farmers and officials.
  
  

• Water resource infrastructure — dams, reservoirs, retention ponds, rainwater-harvesting systems, groundwater recharge projects.
  
  

• Efficient water use — drip irrigation, water-saving practices in households and farms, watershed protection to sustain natural recharge.
  
  

• Policy and planning — drought contingency plans at national and local levels; rules on water allocation during dry spells; support for affected farmers (insurance, subsidies).
  
  

• Community and ecosystem support — emergency relief when needed; restoration of wetlands, rivers, and aquifers; public education on adaptation and conservation.
  
  

In short: drought can’t be stopped. But its impacts — we can mitigate. We can manage.

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Why It Matters — Especially for the Philippines

We are a tropical archipelago, but climate change is real. El Niño, shifting rainfall patterns, prolonged dry seasons — these are becoming more frequent. If we keep relying on seasonal rains, but neglect water resource management, we are setting ourselves up for food insecurity, failed harvests, water shortages, and empty wells.

Effective drought control means:

• more stable food production, fewer crop failures;
  
  

• secure water supply for agriculture, households, industries;
  
  

• preserved ecosystems, healthier watersheds, sustainable aquifers;
  
  

• resilient rural communities that can survive climate shocks.
  
  

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So — Who Should Lead?

Frankly, that may be part of our problem. The Philippines has many water-related agencies, but none is clearly in charge of drought control as a holistic program. We need a lead agency — or at least a coordinated task force — that brings together water resource engineers, climate scientists, local governments, agriculture departments, and community organizations.

Without that, drought control remains an afterthought, a series of ad-hoc measures rather than a national strategy.

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My Suggestion: Start at the Barangay Level

We don’t have to wait for grand national plans. Real change can begin in our barangays, our municipalities. Here’s how:

• Build rainwater-harvesting systems in every public school, barangay hall, and health center.
  
  

• Restore degraded watersheds and upland forests to boost groundwater recharge and maintain natural water cycles.
  
  

• Promote efficient irrigation and water-saving agriculture among small farmers.
  
  

• Create community-based water committees that monitor water usage, manage shared ponds or wells, and enforce water-saving rules during dry seasons.
  
  

• Establish local drought contingency plans — identify vulnerable households, prepare emergency water supplies, and organize community responses.
  
  

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Drought Control as Part of a Circular, Resilient Future

In my work around circular design and community restoration, drought control fits perfectly. It is not just adaptation — it is responsible stewardship. It is not just water storage — it is long-term survival.

If we treat water as a resource to conserve, rather than a problem to fix only when it bursts, we might just turn scarcity into resilience.

Because in a world where rain is no longer guaranteed, our survival depends on discipline, planning, and water wisdom.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/09-19-2026