IS THE PHILIPPINES EXPORTING RAW CACAO BEANS?

IS THE PHILIPPINES EXPORTING RAW CACAO BEANS? Yes, the Philippines is exporting cacao beans and cocoa products, but the numbers tell a sobering story. In 2024, our exports of cocoa and cocoa preparations amounted to about US$33.37 million—a respectable figure at first glance, but modest when placed beside the billions earned by global cacao giants like Ivory Coast and Ghana. More importantly, a significant portion of what we export remains raw or minimally processed. And that is where the problem lies. Switzerland has no cacao farms, yet it produces some of the best—and most expensive—chocolate products in the world. We, on the other hand, grow cacao in Mindanao and other regions, yet we produce very few globally recognized chocolate brands. The difference can be summed up in two words: value added. Exporting raw cacao beans is no different from exporting copra. Prices are low, margins are thin, and farmers remain vulnerable to global price swings. The real money is not in beans; it is in chocolate bars, couverture, cocoa butter, powders, and branded specialty products. Every step of processing multiplies value, creates jobs, and keeps more income within the country. The government is clearly aware of this gap. A Five-Year Cacao Development Plan (2026–2030) has been launched, aiming to expand planting areas, improve post-harvest practices, strengthen supply chains, and position Philippine cacao as a premium, fine-flavor origin. This is encouraging, especially since our cacao is already finding niche markets among artisanal chocolate makers abroad. But I think we are still thinking too cautiously. Here is an idea that is not revolutionary, but may sound controversial: support existing cacao processors and chocolate manufacturers aggressively—even if they already appear “successful.” Give them grants or soft loans. Help them scale. If the law allows it, the government should even consider taking equity stakes in strategic cacao-processing firms, the same way other countries nurture national champions in key industries. Why wait for small processors to struggle their way up when we can help them leap forward? At the same time, the Department of Foreign Affairs should actively scout for foreign chocolate-processing technologies—especially from countries like Switzerland, Belgium, and France—for technology transfer or licensing. We do this for defense and infrastructure; why not for food processing where the risks are lower and the returns are inclusive? In coordination with the DTI, the DOST should double down on what it does best: product development, shelf-life improvement, packaging design, quality testing, and branding. Philippine cacao products should not look “local” in a bad way; they should look world-class. Finally, the government must practice what it preaches. Locally manufactured chocolate products should be front and center in all “Buy Filipino” campaigns, in government cafeterias, gift packs, trade fairs, and official events. If we don’t consume and promote our own products, why should the world take them seriously? So yes, we are exporting cacao. But the more important question is this: why are we still exporting so much of it in raw form? Until we decisively move from beans to bars, from farms to factories, and from commodities to brands, we will remain suppliers to other countries’ success stories—rather than authors of our own. BY RAMON IKE V. SENERES www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/11-02-2026

SAVING THE VISAYAN SPOTTED DEER

SAVING THE VISAYAN SPOTTED DEER I admit it. I sometimes feel jealous when I read about the wildlife conservation success stories of other countries—wolves returning to Europe, condors flying again in the Americas, tigers slowly rebounding in parts of Asia. And then I look around our own backyard and ask: why can’t we tell more success stories of our own? For years, I have written about protecting endemic and native species. Too often, however, the stories are either tragic or unfinished. Species disappear quietly. Programs start and fade. Or perhaps good things are happening, but nobody bothers to tell the public. That is why I genuinely felt excited when I learned about the successful conservation breeding of the Lagsaw—the Visayan Spotted Deer (Rusa alfredi). The Lagsaw is one of the most endangered mammals in the Philippines, found only in the remaining forests of Negros and Panay. Estimates suggest that fewer than 700 mature individuals remain in the wild. Habitat loss, hunting, and forest fragmentation nearly pushed it to extinction. And yet, against the odds, it is now being bred, studied, and prepared for reintroduction through serious, science-based conservation programs. What makes this story even more encouraging is how it is being done. The effort is led by Silliman University in Dumaguete, in partnership with UP Visayas and the Philippine Genome Center. This is inter-university academic cooperation at its best. It is also a fine example of public–private collaboration, with Silliman—a private institution—playing a central role alongside state universities and government-supported research bodies. Through captive breeding, genetic monitoring, and habitat restoration, these institutions are doing more than just keeping deer alive in enclosures. They are safeguarding genetic diversity, preparing animals for release, and working with protected areas such as the Northern Negros Natural Park and the Panay Mountain Range. This is not guesswork. Conservation genomics—yes, genome sequencing—is now part of the program. That alone tells us this is not a token project, but a serious attempt to prevent extinction. So now I ask: can we replicate this model? If we can do it for the Lagsaw, why not for other threatened species? Can we apply similar conservation breeding frameworks to endangered native fish such as pijanga, gingaw, pigok, and ludong? These are not just fish; they are part of local food culture and river ecology. Once they disappear, no amount of regulation can bring them back. And what about birds? Surely, our conservation narrative cannot begin and end with the Philippine eagle. There are many lesser-known endemic birds quietly slipping away without fanfare or funding. I will even push the question further: can we eventually include my personal favorite, the Philippine Forest Dog, the so-called Asong Gubat? Whether one sees it as a distinct species or a unique landrace, it represents another disappearing thread in our biocultural fabric. The Lagsaw project shows us what works: science-led programs, strong academic institutions, partnerships with communities, and long-term commitment. It also shows us that conservation does not always need grand new agencies. Sometimes, what we need is to empower universities, enforce existing laws like the Wildlife Resources Conservation and Protection Act (RA 9147), and fund programs that already deliver results. Most importantly, it reminds us that success stories do exist here—when we choose to support them. Saving the Visayan Spotted Deer is not just about one animal. It is proof that Filipinos can protect their own natural heritage when knowledge, cooperation, and quiet persistence come together. We should tell this story more often—and then ask, seriously and urgently: which species do we save next? BY RAMON IKE V. SENERES www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/11-01-2026

HOUSING MATERIALS MADE FROM PLASTIC WASTE

HOUSING MATERIALS MADE FROM PLASTIC WASTE Every now and then, government science surprises us—in a good way. This is one of those moments. Quietly but decisively, the Philippines has demonstrated that plastic waste, long seen as a nuisance or an environmental curse, can literally become part of the solution to our housing crisis. In November 2025, the Department of Science and Technology–Philippine Nuclear Research Institute (DOST-PNRI) unveiled the country’s first prototype house built using radiation-processed plastic tiles, panels, and bricks. This was not a laboratory fantasy. It was a full, standing house—an ordinary Filipino residential model—constructed from what used to be sachets, packaging, and other low-value plastic waste. The technology behind this is called Post-Radiation Reactive Extrusion (PREx). Plastic waste is collected, sorted, irradiated using electron beams or gamma radiation (no, the plastics do not become radioactive), then reshaped through extrusion into durable construction materials. Radiation strengthens molecular bonds, producing tiles and panels that are lightweight, moisture-resistant, pest-resistant, and suitable for housing components. This innovation is part of the International Atomic Energy Agency’s NUTEC Plastics initiative, a global program involving dozens of countries that aims to fight plastic pollution through nuclear science. The Philippines is not a follower here—we are one of the pilot countries leading the plastics upcycling component. That should already be a source of national pride. But pride alone does not build houses. The internet is already overflowing with examples of construction materials made from waste plastics—blocks, panels, roofing, even road components. There is more than enough global experience now to say that large portions of social housing can already be built using these materials. So the question must be asked: is the National Housing Authority (NHA) or the Department of Human Settlements and Urban Development (DHSUD) paying attention? Why are housing agencies not sitting down with DOST, recyclers, and LGUs to explore mass deployment? Is it not time for the housing sector and the recycling industry to finally converge? I do not have the exact figures, but logic is simple. The government is the biggest builder of socialized housing. If it commits to buying even a fraction of its construction materials from recycled plastics, it could instantly create a stable market, lower housing costs, reduce landfill waste, and generate thousands of local jobs—from waste collection to manufacturing. So why is it not happening? Do we need a new law mandating recycled-content materials in government housing projects? If so, which lawmakers are willing to sponsor it? Or is the problem less about policy and more about inertia? Some may even whisper the uncomfortable question: are recycled materials too cheap to attract kickbacks? Another issue is building codes. Innovative materials, no matter how promising, will remain sidelined if they are not formally recognized by regulators. This is where the government must lead, not wait. And let us talk about support for our own scientists. DOST-PNRI has already produced a working prototype through the PREx Project. Why not expand funding, scale up pilot communities, and move from demonstration to deployment? If we trust foreign technologies enough to import them, why hesitate when our own scientists deliver? This is a rare three-in-one solution: address the housing backlog, reduce plastic pollution, and create livelihoods—especially at the barangay level. As DOST Secretary Renato Solidum Jr. put it, people must learn to see plastic not as waste, but as money. The science is here. The house is standing. The plastic is waiting. The only missing ingredient now is political will. BY RAMON IKE V. SENERES www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/10-31-2026