THERE ARE HUGE OPPORTUNITIES IN SILK PRODUCTION

THERE ARE HUGE OPPORTUNITIES IN SILK PRODUCTION

Silk is one of the world’s most ancient crafts, yet here in the Philippines, we have not really mastered it across the centuries. We take pride in our piña and abaca fabrics—and rightly so—but why not also supplement these native weaves with silk?

The numbers alone tell us how much we’re missing. Our country produces only about one metric ton of silk fabric each year, when our local demand is at least ten metric tons. That means we are producing barely 10 percent of what the market needs. The rest is filled by imports—sometimes smuggled—from China, Italy, and South Korea. Isn’t that a no-brainer opportunity for Filipino farmers and weavers?

Silk making is not rocket-science. Other countries with less natural wealth than ours have developed thriving sericulture industries. Surely our own people can learn to rear silkworms, harvest cocoons, and weave silk threads. The real issue is not capacity but will—both from government and from communities willing to take the leap.

I admit, I am personally biased toward silk, not only because of its beauty, but because it offers what I call a “3-in-1 livelihood potential.” From one mulberry tree, you get leaves for silkworms, berries for food and processing, and leaves again for mulberry tea, which is slowly finding a market among health-conscious consumers. That means multiple income streams from the same crop.

And here’s something even more interesting: mulberry trees can grow in the same soil where tobacco is cultivated. This opens an enormous opportunity for the Ilocos region and other tobacco-growing provinces. Why not help farmers diversify their income by growing mulberry alongside—or even in place of—tobacco? It could be part of a transition plan toward healthier, more sustainable crops.

My sense tells me we should also plant mulberry trees in areas where handloom weaving traditions already exist—among indigenous and Muslim communities that are keeping alive centuries-old textile crafts. Imagine if these communities could access locally produced silk instead of relying on expensive imports. The integration would be natural, and it could strengthen cultural preservation while creating livelihoods.

Of course, the question is: who should lead this effort? Should it be the Department of Agriculture (DA) because mulberry is a crop? Or the Department of Science and Technology (DOST) and its Philippine Textile Research Institute (PTRI) because silk is a textile? What about the Department of Trade and Industry (DTI), which could promote it under its One Town, One Product (OTOP) program? And then there’s the Philippine Fiber Industry Development Authority (PhilFIDA), which already works with abaca and other natural fibers.

Somehow, I think the National Tobacco Administration (NTA) should also play a part. Since mulberry and tobacco can grow side by side, perhaps NTA can take the lead in introducing mulberry as an alternative or supplementary crop. In the long run, this could help farmers prepare for a future when tobacco demand may decline.

And let’s not forget the Design Center of the Philippines and the CITEM, both of which are already doing good work in supporting natural fibers and sustainable fabrics. Silk production is not just about farming; it’s about building a value chain—from leaf to loom, from weaver to market.

If you ask me, the supply and demand imbalance in Philippine silk is so ridiculous that it should already be attracting serious attention from policymakers. The domestic market is wide open. Whatever silk we produce will surely be consumed, either locally or abroad. And with proper branding, Filipino silk could even join the ranks of piña and abaca as part of our national identity.

The challenge now is to connect the dots: mulberry farming, silkworm rearing, weaving traditions, and market promotion. All the elements are there. What’s missing is coordination—and the political will to push silk production as a national livelihood strategy.

Silk has survived thousands of years as a fabric of elegance, resilience, and value. Isn’t it about time the Philippines gave it a more prominent place in our economy?

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

12-03-2025 

STOPPING PLUNDER AND LOOKING FOR ACCOUNTABILITY

 STOPPING PLUNDER AND LOOKING FOR ACCOUNTABILITY

(100% credit to Dr. Ted Mendoza)

By now, some of us have seen the shocking figures compiled by Dr. Ted Mendoza on alleged corruption and misuse of public funds during the current administration. Imagine—₱1.48 trillion possibly lost or misappropriated in just three years. The list includes questionable insertions in the General Appropriations Act, anomalies in flood control projects, and the controversial Maharlika Investment Fund. Add to those billions from PhilHealth, GSIS, SSS, and even small business recovery funds. If all these are true, we are not just talking about lapses but acts that could fall under the Anti-Plunder Law itself.

It is a good thing that President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. is bringing this out into the open. In his speeches, he has linked corruption to disasters like flooding, pointing to anomalous projects that fail the people in their time of need. This is a welcome development. For once, the highest official in the land is saying plainly that corruption is real and must be stopped. It is a good trend that the President himself is leading the charge.

But then we must ask: will the President succeed? Hopefully, he could at least stop or weaken corruption during the rest of his term. The challenge is enormous because corruption in the Philippines has become systemic. It is deeply embedded not only in agencies but also in the political culture itself. Too many projects are designed not for public service but for private gain.

This is why the President cannot fight this battle alone. The Department of Justice (DOJ), the National Bureau of Investigation (NBI), the Anti-Red Tape Authority (ARTA), the Philippine National Police (PNP), and of course the Office of the Ombudsman must all work together. It is one thing for the President to denounce corruption, but another thing entirely to build airtight cases, prosecute, and convict those guilty of plunder.

The law is clear. Under Republic Act 7080, plunder involves amassing at least ₱75 million in ill-gotten wealth through a series of criminal acts. It is a non-bailable offense punishable by life imprisonment and perpetual disqualification from public office. The Filipino people deserve to see this law in action—not just in textbooks or court archives, but in real life.

At the same time, let us not be naïve. Allegations of plunder on this scale raise the uncomfortable question of leadership accountability. Can anomalies of this magnitude happen without the knowledge—or at least the negligence—of those at the top? The doctrine of command responsibility, often cited in military contexts, should apply here too. If the President is serious about fighting corruption, he must welcome investigations even within his own circle. That is what real accountability looks like.

What can we, as citizens, do? Vigilance is key. Civil society groups, the media, and even schools and universities must keep pushing for transparency and justice. Every peso lost to corruption is a peso stolen from classrooms, hospitals, and disaster response funds. It is not enough to expose scandals; we must insist on recovering stolen wealth and putting plunderers behind bars.

If the figures Dr. Mendoza cites are anywhere near accurate, then the damage is massive—not only to public coffers but also to public trust. And once trust is lost, rebuilding it becomes harder than recovering the money itself. That is why this fight must be relentless, not selective, and not timed only for political convenience.

So yes, let us give credit to President Marcos for bringing the issue to light. But let us also hold him to his word. Speeches are not enough. What the people want to see are convictions, asset recoveries, and institutions strengthened against future abuse.

In the end, the choice is simple: either corruption continues to define our politics, or accountability begins to redefine our nation.

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

12-02-2025 

ISLAND BARANGAYS NEED SEA AMBULANCES

 ISLAND BARANGAYS NEED SEA AMBULANCES

Here are no-brainer observations that I want to share with you: many island barangays in the Philippines do not even have their own health centers, and in the event of medical emergencies, there are no ambulances that could take them to a hospital.

But wait—let’s assume for a moment that there are ambulances. How will they cross the seas? Won’t they need a RO-RO vessel? Yes, but not all island barangays have access to a RO-RO vessel. This means that thousands of our fellow Filipinos living on islands are virtually stranded when life-and-death situations strike.

The Philippines is made up of 7,641 islands. Of our 42,046 barangays, experts estimate that at least 5,000 to 7,000 are located on islands. Provinces like Palawan, Sulu, Tawi-Tawi, Masbate, Romblon, and Camiguin are practically defined by their island barangays. Yet despite this reality, most of these barangays have no sea ambulance. Instead, people rely on fishing boats or motorized bancas to bring patients to hospitals, often in the dead of night, in rough seas, with no medical equipment on board.

This is not just a health issue—it is a governance issue. The Local Government Code is clear: LGUs are responsible for providing basic health services. Yet many LGUs have never prioritized sea ambulances in their budgets. They wait for donations, or worse, simply let their people fend for themselves.

There should be a law that requires LGUs to provide sea ambulances to island barangays under their jurisdiction. They should not wait for handouts or foreign aid. They should use their own Internal Revenue Allotments. If LGUs can afford to fund fiestas, basketball courts, and welcome arches, why not sea ambulances that save lives?

And let’s be clear—sea ambulances should not be improvised motorboats with a cross painted on them. They should be fully equipped, just like land-based ambulances, and staffed with trained EMTs. They should have oxygen, stretchers, first aid kits, and life-saving equipment. They should have marine-quality radios—not cell phones that lose signal in the middle of the sea.

But it doesn’t stop there. A proper system must be in place. A sea ambulance should be connected to a 911-type dispatch system that covers the municipality or city. There should also be land-based ambulances waiting at the port to fetch the patient and complete the emergency run. Otherwise, the effort of saving a life at sea will be wasted once the patient reaches land and must wait for transport again.

Take Jomalig Island in Quezon Province as an example. A 2019 health assessment showed that only the main health center had relatively complete services, while remote barangays could not access care due to lack of transport. This is not unique to Jomalig. It is the reality in hundreds, if not thousands, of island barangays.

The truth is, over 5,000 coastal barangays likely lack land-based connectivity to hospitals. Less than 10% of coastal LGUs have dedicated maritime emergency units. The result: poor maternal and child health outcomes, preventable deaths from accidents, and a glaring lack of disaster resilience.

So, what can be done?

First, Congress should pass legislation mandating LGUs with island barangays to procure and operate sea ambulances. Second, the Department of Health should integrate sea ambulance programs into its Health Facilities Enhancement Program. Third, LGUs should explore cooperative or cluster-based systems—where two or three municipalities can share one or two sea ambulances for efficiency.

And finally, accountability must be enforced. Too often, sea ambulances fall between the cracks—health agencies think it’s a transport issue, while transport agencies think it’s a health issue. In the meantime, lives are lost.

I believe this is one of those cases where the solution is not rocket-science. It is common sense. Our people need sea ambulances. Island barangays deserve the same emergency services as mainland ones. The only question is whether our leaders will choose to act.

Because in the Philippines, with our thousands of islands, this is not a luxury. It is a necessity. And the time to provide it is now.

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

12-01-2025 

WHY MANY LEADERS OF THE ONLY CHRISTIAN NATION IN ASIA ARE SO CORRUPT

WHY MANY LEADERS OF THE ONLY CHRISTIAN NATION IN ASIA ARE SO CORRUPT

(100% credits to Rex Bacarra, with my full agreement and my own reflections)

The Philippines proudly calls itself the only Christian nation in Asia. The label is repeated so often that it has become almost a national identity. As Rex Bacarra brilliantly argues—and I agree with him 100%—this claim only deepens the painful irony of our situation: we are a Christian nation that also ranks among the most corrupt in the region.

But here is where I would add my own personal spin: nations cannot become Christian. Only persons can. Christianity is not inherited, nor is it a cultural label that can be worn by an entire country. It is a personal faith, a personal commitment, a personal encounter with Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. And that is where the problem lies.

Too many Filipinos—including our leaders—claim the badge of Christianity without embracing the life of Christ. As Bacarra points out, our faith has become more ritual than reality. Our fiestas are grand, our churches are full, our Facebook feeds are flooded with Bible verses. Yet, outside the walls of the church, the story changes. Corruption flourishes in government, cheating is tolerated in business, dishonesty is excused in daily life.

Christianity is not a matter of culture, but of character. It demands not only prayer but practice. To be a Christian is to accept Jesus as personal God and Savior, to live as He commands—not just on Sundays, but every day of the week.

Corruption, let us be clear, is sin. And when a Christian commits sin, he or she must confess it. But confession is not enough. Corruption requires repentance. And repentance itself is incomplete without resolve: the firm decision not to do it again.

Even that is still not enough. True repentance requires restoration. If you stole, you must return what you took. If you broke, you must repair what you damaged. Building a chapel with stolen funds does not erase the sin. It only launders it.

This is why the oft-repeated phrase “moderate your greed” is empty nonsense. What is needed is not moderation, but eradication. Greed cannot be managed; it must be killed.

And let us not forget-- corruption is not a one-way street. It has two players. The corrupter—the one who bribes—and the grafter—the one who gives in to the temptation of taking. Both are guilty. Both destroy the moral fabric of society.

So why do we still tolerate it? Why do citizens still vote for leaders who kneel in church in the morning and steal from the people in the afternoon? Why do we accept “donations” that are, in truth, stolen goods? Why do we treat forgiveness as a shortcut that requires no change of heart?

The tragedy is that Christianity in the Philippines has become a religion of ceremonies without transformation. We have become a people loud in prayer but silent in morality. A society where faith is proclaimed in words but betrayed in practice.

Imagine what it would look like if our so-called Christian leaders truly lived their faith. If confession were followed by repentance, repentance by resolve, resolve by restoration. If greed were not “moderated” but eradicated. If every act of corruption were met not only with punishment but with a moral demand to repair the wrong.

That is the Christianity we need—not as a nation, but as persons. Because in the end, it is not the Philippines that can be Christian. It is you, it is me, it is every individual who dares to accept Jesus Christ not as a symbol, but as Savior.

Until that happens, we will remain what Bacarra describes so painfully: a nation that prays loudly, but practices corruption silently. The only so-called Christian nation in Asia, but far from Christ in the way we live.

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

11-30-2025 

CONVERSATIONS ABOUT AMBULANCES

CONVERSATIONS ABOUT AMBULANCES

I first became familiar with the need for ambulances when I was appointed as a Director of the Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office (PCSO). Back then, I often wondered why the mayors of LGUs, whether big cities or small towns, would request ambulances from the PCSO. Why couldn’t they simply purchase their own units using their local budgets?

A friend of mine—sarcastically, of course—told me that if I wanted to understand this, I had to understand the Filipino psyche. He said, “Most Filipinos will always want their share of whatever is free, even if they can afford it.” I found that statement uncomfortable, even troubling. Is it true? What do you think? If a mayor can afford an ambulance from the LGU’s internal revenue allotment, why wait in line at PCSO?

Nowadays, I am no longer connected with PCSO, but I still wonder about residents of many LGUs who remain without access to ambulance services. Some of their mayors continue to fall in line at PCSO for units instead of budgeting for them. In the meantime, people suffer delays—or worse—during emergencies.

But let’s step back for a moment. As I now write about broader governance topics, I see the bigger picture. An ambulance is not just a van with a siren. LGUs need not only the vehicle, but also the equipment inside it—equipment that PCSO may not always provide. They also need trained people: Emergency Medical Technicians (EMTs) to staff the unit and professional drivers to operate it.

Could any ordinary driver become an ambulance driver? I say no. Driving an ambulance requires not just skills behind the wheel but the discipline and presence of mind to handle emergencies. And could anyone become an EMT? Of course not. EMTs require training, certification, and continuous updating of skills. In other words, it’s not just about buying machines—it’s about building systems.

And that brings me to another point: dispatching. What good is an ambulance if it’s not properly deployed? Cities and municipalities need their own dispatching systems, ideally linked to a 911 hotline. Otherwise, ambulances become little more than expensive parked vehicles, waiting for someone to make a frantic call directly to the mayor’s office.

Finally, ambulances are only as useful as the hospitals they deliver patients to. It is not enough to have wheels and sirens. LGUs must also ensure that their local hospitals have functioning Emergency Rooms staffed with doctors and nurses trained in emergency medicine. Otherwise, what happens when the ambulance arrives? Do we stabilize the patient—or just transfer the crisis from the road to the hospital hallway?

To me, ambulances should be seen as mobile emergency rooms, designed to stabilize patients before they reach the hospital. That is why they must be equipped with stretchers, oxygen tanks, defibrillators, IV kits, suction machines, and cardiac monitors, among many other essentials. Without these, an “ambulance” is reduced to nothing more than a glorified taxi.

So, here’s the challenge for LGUs: Can they rethink their approach to emergency medical services, moving beyond handouts from PCSO? Could we, as citizens, demand that ambulances be properly equipped, staffed, and dispatched? And could national agencies, instead of merely donating vehicles, work with LGUs to establish local EMT training programs and community-based emergency response systems?

I do not want this to sound too complicated. But sometimes, conversations about governance begin with simple questions—like why ambulances always seem to come from PCSO instead of our LGUs’ own budgets. If those conversations eventually lead us to better-equipped units, better-trained staff, and better-prepared hospitals, then perhaps we will all be safer the next time an emergency strikes.

Because in the end, what is an ambulance really for? Not to make mayors look good during turnover ceremonies, but to save lives. And that, I think, is a conversation worth continuing.

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

11-29-2025 

PROS AND CONS OF PARLIAMENTARY SYSTEMS

 PROS AND CONS OF PARLIAMENTARY SYSTEMS

I am aware that this is going to be a long conversation but let us just start it now. We have heard so much advocacy for a federal system, but why is there no equivalent advocacy for a parliamentary system? Is it not that in many countries, federal systems and parliamentary systems often go together?

To be clear, I am in favor of a federal system, where all the member states govern themselves for the most part, except for a few centralized functions like defense, finance, and foreign affairs. This way, regions can truly develop according to their own strengths. At the same time, I am also in favor of a parliamentary system, where members of parliament are elected from parliamentary districts within each member state, and from among them a Prime Minister is chosen. The Prime Minister, in turn, forms a Cabinet that will essentially become his government.

Now, here lies the most contentious part. In a parliamentary system, the Prime Minister is not directly elected by the people. Unlike our presidential system, where we cast our votes for the head of state and government, parliamentary voters only elect their district representatives. The leader of the majority party in parliament then becomes Prime Minister. In the United Kingdom, for example, citizens vote for their Members of Parliament (MPs), and whichever party secures the most seats forms the government. The Monarch formally appoints the Prime Minister, but this is only ceremonial.

So, here’s the big question: would we, as Filipinos, be willing to give up our right to directly vote for a President, in exchange for a system that would make it easier to replace a bad Prime Minister?

That is one major advantage of the parliamentary system. A bad Prime Minister can be replaced quickly through a vote of no confidence. In contrast, a bad President is very difficult to remove—short of impeachment, resignation, or worse, people power. In other words, parliamentary governments are inherently more flexible.

Of course, this is not as simple as it sounds. The Cabinet in a parliamentary system is composed of MPs themselves, and while they cannot directly vote out a Prime Minister, their collective dissent—through mass resignations or party mechanisms—can force a leadership change. Think of what happened to Margaret Thatcher and more recently Boris Johnson. Compare that to our system, where Cabinet secretaries are not elected and are merely appointees, beholden to the President no matter how unpopular or incompetent he becomes.

But perhaps there is no right or wrong here, because both systems work in many countries. The real question is: can we, in the Philippines, sustain at least two strong parties that could compete for parliamentary leadership? That is where the challenge lies. Without strong parties, a parliamentary system could easily descend into chaos, with fragile coalitions and constant leadership changes.

Our current multi-party system is too personality-driven and transactional. What we call “political parties” are more like electoral vehicles for presidential candidates, easily abandoned after elections. Unless we reform our political party system—through stricter rules on party-switching, public funding, and ideology-based platforms—a parliamentary system might not work as intended.

Still, the debate is worth having. Federalism could empower our regions, but parliamentary government could make our politics more accountable and responsive. Why are we not pushing for both at the same time? After all, many federal systems—like Canada, Australia, and India—are also parliamentary. Why do we always imagine these reforms in isolation?

Perhaps we are afraid of letting go of the notion that we must personally vote for a President. But should democracy be defined only by how we vote for our leaders, or also by how easily we can remove bad ones?

It may be a long conversation, but one thing is sure: our current system is not delivering the kind of governance we need. Whether we choose federalism, parliamentarism, or both, the goal must be the same—making government closer to the people, more accountable, and easier to change when it fails.

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

11-28-2025 

MODERNIZING THE MMDA

MODERNIZING THE MMDA

What really is the role or mandate of the MMDA? Many of us assume that it is a policy-making body, because we see its Chairman constantly issuing statements, directives, or pronouncements that affect the daily lives of Metro Manila residents. But the truth is, the MMDA is not supposed to be a policy-making agency at all. The actual policy-making body is the Metro Manila Council (MMC).

This is where the confusion begins. The MMDA, under Republic Act 7924, was created as a development authority to implement programs for Metro Manila—traffic management, flood control, solid waste, urban renewal, disaster response, and so on. But technically, the MMDA is supposed to be just an executive or implementing agency, acting under the authority of the Metro Manila Council. In corporate terms, the MMC is the “Board of Directors” of the MMDA. The MMC is also supposed to function as the de facto Regional Development Council (RDC) for the metropolis.

If that is so, then why is the MMDA acting as if it were an authority on its own? Why does it have a Chairman, with Cabinet-level rank, who sometimes looks more powerful than the 17 mayors combined? If the MMC already has a Chairman—usually one of the mayors elected among themselves—why do we still need another Chairman for the MMDA? To me, this looks like a leftover from the martial law years, when central authority had to be asserted above local governments. That might have made sense then, but should it still be the case today?

I think not. What MMDA really needs is not another Chairman, but a General Manager who reports to the MMC Chairman. The Council should be doing the planning, while the MMDA should be doing the executing. That way, the mayors—the real elected leaders of their constituencies—would collectively set the direction, and the MMDA would serve as the professional implementing arm.

To be fair, the MMC is not a token body. It is composed of the 17 Metro Manila mayors as voting members, with representatives from national agencies like DPWH, DOH, and DepEd as non-voting members. The MMC approves metro-wide plans and regulations, coordinates development across LGUs, and provides oversight on MMDA programs and budgets. But here’s the catch: since the MMDA has its own Chairman with Cabinet rank, the balance of power often tilts toward the MMDA itself, reducing the MMC to a consultative role rather than the governing body it was meant to be.

This imbalance explains why Metro Manila often looks more like a patchwork of competing jurisdictions than a coordinated metropolis. Traffic rules differ from one city to another. Flood control is carried out in fragments—some dredging here, some drainage unclogging there—with no unified master plan. Solid waste management is uneven, with some LGUs doing well in segregation and recycling, and others lagging far behind. Shouldn’t these functions be integrated at the metro-wide level, under the clear planning authority of the MMC and the executing mandate of the MMDA?

The irony is that the law already provides for this arrangement. But practice has distorted it. The presence of an MMDA Chairman has allowed the implementing agency to sometimes overshadow its supposed policy-making council. In effect, it is as if the “secretariat” has become the “board,” while the “board” has been reduced to a rubber stamp. That is not the way governance is supposed to work.

If we are serious about modernizing the MMDA, the reform should begin with governance structure. Let the MMC truly function as the board of directors and as the regional development council. Let the MMDA become what it was meant to be: the professional, technical, and executive arm of the Council. No more confusion, no more duplication of chairmanships.

This structural reform will also clarify accountability. When floods happen, or when traffic grinds to a halt, people will know exactly who is responsible for planning (the MMC) and who is responsible for execution (the MMDA). Right now, accountability is blurred, and this blurring allows problems to persist year after year.

Modernizing the MMDA is not just about adding more traffic enforcers, building more pumping stations, or buying more garbage trucks. It is about fixing the very foundation of governance in Metro Manila. Planning and execution must be clearly divided. Authority must flow from the MMC as the governing body, down to the MMDA as the implementing arm.

Otherwise, we will continue to live under a system where the agency meant to implement is busy pretending to be the authority, while the council meant to govern is sidelined. And Metro Manila, the country’s most vital region, will continue to stumble along without the modern, coordinated management it so badly needs.

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

11-27-2025