WE HAVE MET THE ENEMY AND HE IS US

WE HAVE MET THE ENEMY AND HE IS US

Corruption—what is it, really? The abuse of entrusted power for private gain. Bribery, embezzlement, favoritism, fraud—all of that. Its opposite is integrity: moral principle, honesty, consistency. Integrity stands straight; corruption bends, twists, distorts.

If corruption is anything that deviates from what is legal or ethical, then the question becomes: Who is the corrupt one? Where do we point the finger—and is it ever fully away from ourselves?

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The Problem: Where Corruption Starts

Some say vote-buying is corruption. I say yes—and more. But to call someone corrupt, you must also ask: who allowed the system for vote-buying to survive? Who makes it easy? Who turns a blind eye?

• Voters who accept money contribute.
  
  

• Politicians who offer money are corrupt.
  
  

• Officials who fail to punish wrongdoing are complicit.
  
  

We are all part of a chain. Even small acts—accepting small bribes, tolerating solicitation, buying stolen goods—make the culture of corruption more tolerant.

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What the Data Tells Us

Here are some recent facts:

• In 2024, the Philippines scored 33 out of 100 on the Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI) by Transparency International; rank was 114th out of 180 countries. That’s slightly worse than the previous year. 

• On vote buying:
  
  

• In May 2025 midterm elections, 806 complaints were filed (636 about vote-buying, 268 about abuse of state resources).
  
  

• On Election Day, PNP recorded 28 vote-buying incidents across the country, 19 arrested, 22 still at large. 

• Surveys suggest that 66% of Filipino voters expect vote-buying to be prevalent in elections.
  
  

So the corruption we talk about is not abstract. It is real, widespread, seen, expected.

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Where the Enemy Resides—In Us, in Systems

That old line—“We have met the enemy and he is us”—is painful, but powerful because it forces reflection. The enemy isn't always the corrupt official with headlines. Sometimes it is:

• Our silence when corruption is reported.
  
  

• Our tolerance when small injustices seem “just the way things are.”
  
  

• Our decisions when we vote for someone who promises much but delivers little, or whose path to power is shady.
  
  

• Our normalizing of “utang na loob,” patronage, favors, shortcuts.
  
  

Corruption is systemic. It lives in:

• weak enforcement of laws
  
  

• loopholes that allow bribery and abuse
  
  

• lack of accountability
  
  

But also in culture—our cultural blind spots about what is acceptable.

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What Integrity Looks Like

If integrity is the opposite, then:

• Being honest in small things matters. Not taking bribes, not soliciting favors.
  
  

• Being transparent: demanding receipts, public accountability.
  
  

• Choosing leaders who have track records, not just slick promises.
  
  

• Saying no, even when “everyone else does it.”
  
  

Integrity is painful because it often means standing alone, taking the harder path.

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Questions We Must Ask

• How many votes are bought and sold every election? How many reports are filed? How many were prosecuted?
  
  

• What proportion of complaints about vote buying lead to meaningful sanctions?
  
  

• How does poverty factor in? If people are desperate, maybe vote selling becomes a survival strategy. How do we address that root?
  
  

• What laws exist, and are they enforced, against those who offer, those who solicit, those who cheat taxes, wages, etc.?
  
  

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Suggestions: Turning Enemy into Ally

Here are ways we can begin to flip the narrative:

Phase	Action
Recognition	Admit that corruption is not just “them,” but "us" in many tiny, human ways.
Transparency	Make government data open: procurement, contracts, campaign financing. Citizen access to that data.
Enforcement	Strengthen institutions that investigate, try, and punish corruption—regardless of the person’s influence.
Civic Education	Teach integrity, ethics in schools, communities. Make corruption “uncool.”
Incentives for Integrity	Reward public servants who work cleanly. Support whistleblowers. Protect those who report.
Empowerment	Give citizens tools (legal, technological) to report corruption safely and confidently.

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Final Thoughts

Yes, corruption is pervasive in the Philippines. Transparency scores are poor. Vote-buying is common. We expect it. And until we shift the culture—until we stop buying votes, stop selling them, stop tolerating abuse of power—nothing fundamental changes.

We often say “they are corrupt.” But often, we are part of the corruption, or at least part of what lets it survive. To fight corruption, we must first look in the mirror. We must recognize that the enemy is us—our choices, our silence, our complicities. Once that is true, only then can we begin to build true integrity: honest institutions, fair elections, trust in government. And perhaps, then, the country can move toward a future where “integrity” isn't just an ideal but a lived standard.

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

09088877282/02-21-2026

GHOST TREES IN NON-EXISTING FORESTS

GHOST TREES IN NON-EXISTING FORESTS

We live with ghosts. Not the kind that walk along corridors at midnight, but the kind that stand silent and skeletal on our once-live mountains—the ghost forests. Forests that were promised, planted, perhaps counted—but not quite there. When the trees are dead, or never grew, or the canopy is more a memory than a reality, what have we done?

I’m not talking about saltwater intrusion or climate-change driven forest die-offs abroad. I’m speaking of the forests that should exist under the Philippines’ National Greening Program (NGP)—those millions of seedlings, those millions of pesos—that are, for many places, spectral. Where are they?

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What the Records Say

Let’s look at what has been achieved, according to government data:

• The NGP, launched 2011 under EO 26, aimed to plant 1.5 billion trees on 1.5 million hectares by 2016.
  
  

• EO 193 (2015) expanded the scope so that the program’s targets extend to restore all remaining unproductive, denuded, degraded forest lands through 2028.
  
  

• By late 2018, the government claimed over 125,000 hectares rehabilitated that year, with some 116 million seedlings planted on those lands; by then, since 2011, about 1.7 billion seedlings on roughly 1.99 million hectares had been planted.
  
  

• In Western Visayas alone, from 2011–2020, NGP claimed that 121,257.58 hectares were planted, raising forest cover by about 10.4% in that region.
  
  

• Survival rates in certain places are high: in Bicol, the DENR logs 85% survival of seedlings in 2024, across over 2,000 hectares.
  
  

So on paper, numbers are huge. Ambitions are laudable. But something feels off.

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Why “Ghost Forests” Might Be More Than Metaphor

Because some statistics can be misleading, some forests might be more of promises than substance. Here are what I believe are real concerns:

1. Survival vs. Canopy Recovery
   Planting seedlings is only step one. For a forest to really be forest, it must grow: canopy cover, understory, soil ecology, wildlife. It must endure. Reports show survival rates, but often, early mortality, damage from pests, drought, or bad site choices erode those gains. A high number of seedlings planted say nothing about whether in five-ten years there will be a mature forest.
   
   

2. Mangrove Rehabilitation Gaps
   A Rappler study saw satellite images of mangrove sites under NGP (e.g. in Calauag, Quezon) showing very little change over time—suggesting that some mangrove “rehab” may be more cosmetic than ecological. Ground verification is still pending.
   
   

3. Inadequate Use of Native Species
   Native trees are crucial—they are adapted, they support local fauna, they help in ecosystem stability. But data show that in many NGP plantings exotic or fast-growing species are overused compared to native ones. A study noted that only ~7% of tree seedlings in some reported reforested areas are indigenous species; civil society has pushed for more.
   
   

4. Transparency, Monitoring, Accountability
   Agencies have started using satellite imagery, drones, and geospatial data. The Philippine Space Agency (PhilSA) has teamed up with DENR to build a geospatial database to monitor NGP progress.
   But sometimes, field validation lags; sometimes regional reports are inconsistent; sometimes what is reported is hard to verify on the ground. The ghost projects in flood control show how projects can be on paper but missing in reality.
   
   

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My Questions & Concerns

• If millions of seedlings were planted, why do some mountains still look as barren as before?
  
  

• Are there “ghost” NGP plantations—projects funded, reported, but with either no seedlings surviving, or no visible forest year after year?
  
  

• How are NGP sites mapped, monitored, and validated over time? How many have been revisited after 3, 5, or 10 years to check survival, canopy cover, biodiversity return?
  
  

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What Can Be Done—Not Just Talked About

To turn these “ghost trees” into real forests, we need action in these directions:

1. Rigorous Long-Term Monitoring & Transparency
   Make public maps of NGP sites, with coordinates. Use satellite or drone data, ground-truthing updates. Require remote and local communities to report. DENR-PhilSA geospatial database is promising—push it.
   
   

2. Native Species First
   Prioritize planting indigenous trees. Replace mature exotics with natives. Ensure seedling quality and site suitability (soil, climate, hydrology) so that trees survive and thrive.
   
   

3. Accountability for Failures
   If survival rates fall below acceptable thresholds, require agencies or contractors to account for what went wrong. Do not count everything just because seedlings were planted.
   
   

4. Link Reforestation with Watershed, Flood Control, Climate Adaptation
   How many floods or landslides might have been worsened by missing forests upstream? Restoration isn’t only about trees—it’s buffer zones, absorbing rainfall, stabilizing soil. Reforestation must be part of risk reduction.
   
   

5. Involve Communities, Provide Incentives
   Local communities must be partners—not only laborers. Give them tenure, share benefits (fruit trees, harvest), support them with technical assistance. Also, civil society can help monitor and advocate.
   
   

6. Budget & Performance Measures
   Lawmakers should demand receipts: How many hectares planted, what species, what survival after two or three years, what ecological benefits, what flood risk mitigation. Not only “number of trees” but ecological impact.
   
   

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Final Thoughts

“Ghost Trees in Non-Existing Forests” is more than a poetic phrase; it is a warning. If we continue to plant trees that die, or report forests that don’t exist, we degrade not only land, but trust. We deceive ourselves, and worse, fail those who depend on the environment for their homes, livelihoods and safety.

The National Greening Program has undeniable achievements. But in many places, forests must become forests: full of life, cast shade, and support ecosystems. Until then, we should neither accept silence nor skeletons. We deserve green that breathes, not ghost green that haunts.

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

09088877282/02-20-2026

RESTORING LAHAR AREAS

RESTORING LAHAR AREAS

It’s been 34 years since Mt. Pinatubo erupted in June 1991—an eruption that didn’t just change geography, but lives, industry, culture, land. Yet, ask most Filipinos (or our elected officials) what long-term progress has been made in restoring those lahar-shrouded lands, and you might hear uneasy silence. Are we simply too slow? Do we not care enough? Or is environmental restoration something we understand only in theory, not in culture or daily practice?

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What has actually been done?

There have been some efforts. For example:

• The Mount Pinatubo Hazard Urgent Mitigation Project (PHUMP) was launched to restore the Sacobia-Bamban river basin (Pampanga/Tarlac), rehabilitate major roads, and recover agricultural land covered in lahar.
  
  

• Centuries of wear from rainstorms, flooding, and clogged lahar channels have been mitigated by constructing a “megadike” around critical areas (like San Fernando in Pampanga), as part of anti-lahar and flood control infrastructure.
  
  

• In the town of Bacolor, Pampanga, farms buried and rendered barren by lahar are now becoming fertile again. The National Irrigation Administration (NIA) has allocated P60 million to build a new irrigation system covering several barangays, for 566 hectares of land.
  
  

• Also, there are laws: the Bacolor Rehabilitation Council Law (2008) gave institutional structure (and funding hope) to protect, dredge, and restore lahar-rendered areas around the town.
  
  

So yes, there is action. But is it enough?

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Where we fall short

Here are my observations, and I think many will agree:

1. Scale versus urgency mismatch
   PHUMP and other projects are vital, but what I’ve seen is that we often move with caution, delay, or stop-gap measures, instead of bold, comprehensive, multi-decade planning. Restoring hundreds of hectares, re-establishing entire river basins, bringing back biodiversity—the scale required is massive, yet our response tends to be piecemeal.
   
   

2. Fragmented responsibilities, finger pointing
   NGAs, LGUs, DENR, DPWH, NIA—there are so many parties. Sometimes overlapping mandates, sometimes unclear jurisdiction. When disasters or delays happen, blame tends to bounce around. Who’s responsible for soil remediation? Who handles funding? Who monitors? Without clarity, accountability suffers.
   
   

3. Cultural and economic priorities
   Restoration doesn’t immediately translate to profit. Politicians often focus on infrastructure, roads, bridges, visibility, short-term deliverables that show in campaign promises. Restoration is slower, more intangible: soil regeneration, ecosystems, forests. These are harder to sell to voters in three-year terms.
   
   

4. Knowledge, science, and community integration
   Some lahar areas are now being studied more carefully (soil dynamics, native species, etc.), but many are not. Local communities often are not deeply engaged, or do not have full access to scientific/technical support or funding. Restoration that doesn’t involve those who live on lahar-affected land may fail or be unsustainable.
   
   

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Recent developments: Private sector & NGOs stepping up

In all this, there is hope, and this is where I think our best lessons are:

• De La Salle Philippines via the Lasallian Institute for the Environment (LIFE) is building a 24.4-hectare botanical garden in Alviera, Porac, Pampanga. Native species (cycads, bamboo, ferns) will be grown; part of the site will be left to self-restore (natural seed dispersal, insect pollination etc.). This is not just planting trees—it’s teaching ecosystems to heal themselves. (I’ve volunteered with LIFE in Laguna, and their work is serious, meticulous, grounded in science and community values.)
  
  

• In Bacolor, the shift from barren lahar land to productive farmland (with proper irrigation) demonstrates that even heavily degraded land can bounce back, given the right support.
  
  

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Questions & suggestions

Because I believe solving things begins with asking hard questions:

• Was there ever a long-term, legally binding plan for restoring lahar-affected areas after the 1991 eruption that survived administrations? If yes, why has its implementation been so slow? If not, how do we create one now that is resilient to changes in leadership?
  
  

• How much funding is actually allocated vs. needed? For example, P60 million for irrigation is good. But how many similar projects are needed to restore all the lahar-buried farmland across Pampanga, Tarlac, Zambales, etc.?
  
  

• Can we build restoration into disaster risk reduction and climate resilience frameworks, rather than treat it as a separate environment issue? For instance, anti-lahar infrastructure could be combined with reforestation, watershed protection, livelihood development, native species plantations, etc.
  
  

• What about incentives for local communities and farmers? If restoring lahar land can generate income—via agroforestry, native plants, ecotourism, botanical gardens—could that be turned into models that LGUs support actively (e.g. grants, technical support, land tenure security)?
  
  

• Monitoring and public accountability: Are there transparent reports on how much lahar restoration has been done, its ecological results (soil health, biodiversity), social results (livelihoods), and what remains undone?
  
  

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What should happen now

Here are some suggestions, in my opinion, if we really want to do more than pay lip-service:

• The national government should adopt a Lahar Restoration Master Plan (30-year horizon) with clear targets, budgets, and roles for NGAs, LGUs, private sector, and communities.
  
  

• Mandate and fund restoration science centers in lahar-affected provinces, where local universities, NGOs, and communities collaborate on plant nurseries, species trials, soil remediation, etc.
  
  

• Use projects like the LIFE botanical garden as model replicable units—small but well-done labs of restoration that can be scaled or adapted to barangay‐level or municipality level.
  
  

• Provide conditional grants to LGUs: funds that are released only if certain environmental restoration benchmarks are met (soil cover, species planted, community engagement). This encourages performance rather than just announcements.
  
  

• Incorporate restoration into climate adaptation budgets: recognizing that restored landscapes buffer floods, reduce sediment flows, improve water absorption, etc.
  
  

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Final thoughts

Restoration of lahar areas is more than ecological repair—it’s about justice. For farmers whose land was covered in ash, for communities whose rivers and homes were threatened, for future generations who will inherit what we leave behind.

It may be too late to undo all the damage from Pinatubo’s eruption in one lifetime—but far from too late to make restoration real, visible, accountable, and meaningful. If LIFE’s work in Porac can bloom, if Bacolor’s fields can yield rice again, then maybe we’ll prove that restoration is in our culture, if only we choose to let it be.

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

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 

09088877282/02-19-2026