senseneres

Sunday, May 10, 2026

WHAT SHOULD WE DO WITH BIOSAFETY IN THE PHILIPPINES?

The short answer: we need to do more, and do it now. In fact, one might say that aside from a few frameworks, we’re not doing enough.

Here’s my take — drawing from an article that shows how the U.S. is wrestling with biosafety oversight — and applying it to our Philippine context (where the frameworks exist, but the practice often lags).

What’s already in place

We in the Philippines have some laws and executive orders. For example:

Executive Order No. 514 (2006) establishes the National Biosafety Framework (NBF) and strengthens the National Committee on Biosafety of the Philippines (NCBP).
The NBF is meant to “apply to the development, adoption and implementation of all biosafety policies, measures and guidelines … concerning the research, development, handling and use, transboundary movement, release into the environment and management of regulated articles.”
The Department of Science and Technology–NCBP website notes that the Philippines was one of the first in Southeast Asia to adopt a national biosafety framework.

So yes – we have regulations and institutions.

So … what’s missing? Why am I worried?

Because:

The frameworks are narrow. The NBF and guidelines focus heavily on genetically modified organisms (GMOs), biotechnology, and environmental release. They less explicitly cover lab-accidents, pathogen research, or the full lifecycle of risks.
We lack comprehensive legislation. One recent review observes: “Despite decades of biotech presence and policy activity, the Philippines has yet to enact a national biosafety law.”
Oversight tends to be front-loaded (at proposal stage) rather than continuous through research, deployment, dissemination. The U.S. article highlighted how checking only at the start fails to catch emerging risks mid-project or downstream when results are published.
We need integration across sectors. Biosafety isn’t just about health (via the Department of Health / DOH) or agriculture (via the Department of Agriculture / DA) — it spans environment, science, industry, research labs, data, digital biology. The Philippine policy history itself admitted the need to add agencies like the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR), the Department of Trade and Industry (DTI) and the Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG).

In other words: the regulatory structure is fragmented. The article argues that this kind of patchwork leaves gaps, creates confusion, and reduces public trust. The Philippines appears to face similar issues.

So what should we do?

Here are proposals (with commentary):

Elevate biosafety as a national, coordinated priority

We need a central coordinating body (or upgrade an existing one) which oversees biosafety in all sectors — not just biotech or GMOs, but labs, pathogens, digital biology, synthetic biology. The U.S. article calls this a “National Biosafety and Biosecurity Agency” (NBBA). We should consider a Philippine variant.
This body should ensure multi-agency coordination — DOST, DOH, DA, DENR, DILG, DTI, possibly local government units (LGUs).

Move from proposal-stage oversight to lifecycle oversight

Don’t stop at “before research starts”. Oversight needs to continue during research (“bench level”), after results (“publication/dissemination”), and into deployment or commercialization.
Training, regular audits, incident reporting systems are needed so that early signs of risk are flagged.

Close legislative and institutional gaps

Enact a dedicated biosafety law that covers all high-consequence biological research, lab safety, dual-use research of concern, digital bio data. Administrative orders are not enough.
Provide resources: budgets, staffed agencies, training, and monitoring mechanisms — as EO 514 mandates funding via DOST, DENR, DA, DOH.

Engage the broader community and ensure public trust

Biosafety isn’t just a researcher’s problem. The public expects transparency, accountability, and clarity.
Local communities, LGUs, and civil society should have roles in decision-making and monitoring.
Incident reporting should be anonymous, transparent, and lead to learning — not blame-only.

Strengthen capacity and awareness

Train and certify biosafety professionals. The Philippine system needs more qualified biosafety officers, institutional biosafety committees (IBCs) and strong practices.
Create guidelines for labs beyond GMO work: infectious disease labs, emerging biotech platforms. For instance, during COVID-19 the Research Institute for Tropical Medicine (RITM) issued interim biosafety guidelines for SARS-CoV-2.

Align with global developments and anticipate emerging risks

Biological risks now include digital data (DNA sequences), synthetic biology, cross-border movement of pathogens, etc. Oversight frameworks need to be adaptive. The U.S. article warns: “biology isn’t just physical anymore: DNA can be digitized”.
The Philippines must update its definitions, expand the scope of frameworks beyond just GMOs. As one study noted, the current definition is still limited to modern biotechnology, exotic species and environment.

Who, aside from DOH, should be involved in biosafety?

To make this real, the following must be included:

DOST (Department of Science and Technology) — for research, science policy.
DA (Department of Agriculture) — for biotech in agriculture, GM crops, animal/plant pathogens.
DENR (Department of Environment and Natural Resources) — ecosystem impacts, release into the environment.
DILG (Department of the Interior & Local Government) / LGUs — for local laboratories, local outbreak response, community oversight.
DTI (Department of Trade & Industry) — for commercial biotech, industry regulation, imports/exports of regulated organisms.
Academic and research institutions — they host labs, generate research, need institutional biosafety committees.
Private sector biotech/biopharma labs — they must be regulated and monitored.
Civil society and community organizations — for public engagement, transparency, ethical review.
Indigenous peoples’ representatives (especially where biological materials or environment are involved).
International cooperation partners — for transboundary biosafety concerns, data sharing, standards.

If I were to summarize: we in the Philippines are not fully prepared. We have the regulatory skeleton, but the flesh — coordination, implementation, capacity, lifecycle oversight, public trust — is weaker than it should be given today’s risks. COVID-19 taught us that biological risk is no longer hypothetical.

So what we should do is clear: make biosafety real, holistic, and proactive. Let’s move from “we’ll react if something goes wrong” to “we will prevent things from going wrong in the first place, together”. Because if we don’t, we risk not only research accidents, but public health, environmental, economic and national security consequences.

We should ask: Are our laws adequate? Are our labs safe? Is oversight continuous? Do communities trust the system? Is government coordination effective? If we can’t answer “yes” confidently, then we must act — and act fast.

That’s what should be done with biosafety in the Philippines.

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com

senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877292/05-11-2026

Saturday, May 09, 2026

WHY NOT GROW QUINOA IN THE PHILIPPINES?

I’ll be frank: I’ve been thinking about how we Filipinos rely heavily on rice. That’s fine—but maybe it’s too much. What if we diversified our staples? Not just rice, but corn, sweet potatoes, adlai, cassava, potatoes—and yes, even quinoa.

I’ve eaten quinoa for years now as a substitute for white rice. I like its smooth texture. I also tried adlai—but I didn’t like it as much; to my taste it seemed coarse. The only thing I don’t like about quinoa is that it’s imported. Every time I spoon it into my plate I feel like I’m depriving Filipino farmers of a livelihood. And unlike rice (technically a grain), quinoa is a seed.

So here’s the question I keep asking: Why not grow quinoa in places where rice cannot grow? We already know where those are—the mountainous or highland zones in our country. Let’s pick those. For instance: the Cordilleras, Bukidnon, Palawan’s uplands, parts of Rizal province. Why not?

Yes—first try upland rice in these zones. If that fails, let’s pivot to quinoa. Because quinoa isn’t just some exotic import for health-conscious foodies. It might be an import-substitution strategy. And if we manage to grow more than our internal needs, export too.

Why quinoa, you might ask?
It’s not just because it’s trendy; there’s nutrition behind it. According to the National Nutrition Council (NNC) of the Philippines: quinoa is nutrient-dense, higher in protein than many grains, contains all nine essential amino acids, is intrinsically gluten-free, rich in fiber, minerals and antioxidants.
That’s a pretty good case for a staple or at least a significant component of a staple.

But let’s be realistic: quinoa cannot grow everywhere in the Philippines. So what are we talking about? Uplands. Cooler climates, better drainage, soils in better condition. If we consider the constraints and plan accordingly, I believe we can make it happen.

Here are the challenges—and why they’re worth tackling:

Quinoa prefers cooler dry climates (classically the Andes). In our tropical lowlands with high heat and humidity it struggles. So it must be in upland zones.
Soil: Well-drained, less acidity, perhaps higher altitude. Many Philippine lowlands might be too hot, too humid or poorly drained. So location matters.
Seed adaptation: We’ll need varieties that are adapted to our conditions. Globally there are projects on quinoa breeding. For example, the International Center for Biosaline Agriculture (ICBA) recently reported that scientists identified DNA segments for key traits (early flowering, seed weight, low bitterness) which means breeding tailored, locally-adapted quinoa is more feasible now.
Training & value-chain: Farmers, especially in upland barangays, need extension, support, market linkages. Without these, growing quinoa remains a niche product.
Market & awareness: Imported quinoa is expensive. Locally grown quinoa may reduce cost, increase supply, and make it more accessible. There are already import-cost issues—one Reddit post noted quinoa is “mahal” in Cebu supermarkets.

Now, some suggestions (because I always come with suggestions):

Map out upland zones with cooler micro-climates: Cordillera, Bukidnon, certain areas of Palawan, Rizal uplands. These become “quinoa pilot zones”.
Partner with research institutions and government agricultural agencies to test quinoa varieties, soil suitability, trials.
Engage the farmers: training, seed sourcing, and perhaps subsidies or incentive schemes for early adopters.
Value-chain development: local processing, packaging, branding—“Filipino-grown quinoa” as a premium local product.
Dietary and public awareness campaigns: promote quinoa as one of the staple alternatives alongside rice. If I can live on it, others can too.
Policy support: Government can signal with incentives, perhaps support import substitution for quinoa, or allocate upland support for crops other than rice.
Link quinoa cultivation to ecological benefits: Upland cropping (like quinoa) may support soil stability, reduce runoff, control erosion in mountainous areas. So it’s not only food security, but environmental resilience.

Let’s frame some questions for us and for the policymakers:

Why do we still push rice in every agricultural zone, even where terrain/climate is unfavorable?
When will we accept that one staple is too risky for a country like ours with climate vulnerabilities, floods, typhoons, upland erosion?
If quinoa can thrive in uplands where rice struggles, why not give it a chance instead of forcing rice everywhere?
How will we support the small farmer in that upland zone to transition or diversify into quinoa (or other staples) without losing income or security?
How will we create demand for locally grown quinoa so that farmer-investment is justified?
I believe that growing quinoa in the Philippines is possible—if done smartly. We don’t aim to replace rice completely overnight. But diversify. We bolster food security. We use land smartly. We empower upland farmers. We reduce import dependency. We give our food system resilience.

Because every time I sit down with a bowl of quinoa instead of rice, I think: “What if this was Filipino-grown? What if this grain (seed) supported local livelihoods instead of imported supply chains?”

So here’s my call to action: Let us ask the agriculture sector, the research institutions, the local governments, the upland barangays: Why not grow quinoa in the Philippines? Let’s start the pilot. Let’s experiment. Let’s expand. Let’s diversify. Let’s future-proof our staple.

Because rice alone won’t always carry us—and because quinoa, at least for some upland zones, could carry us too.

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com

senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/05-10-2026

Friday, May 08, 2026

LET’S PROTECT OUR OWN PHILIPPINE FOREST DOG BREED

Who cares about protecting our very own Philippine Forest Dog breed? I do. And here’s why it matters.

I care because this dog — the Philippine Forest Dog (commonly called asong gubat) — is part of our heritage. I care because it is part of our national identity.

There is enough evidence to suggest that the asong gubat is linked to the ancient Austronesian expansion: our earliest ancestors arriving on these islands from Taiwan brought along dogs, and this land-race of canine may be one of those companions. It’s a living link to pre-colonial biodiversity and indigenous lifeways.

What the asong gubat is
Yes — it is distinct from the more familiar street dog known as the Askal or “asong kalye”.

The asong gubat is a primitive, indigenous land-race: evolved naturally within forest ecosystems in the Philippines, not imported from abroad.
The askal is a mixed-breed, mongrel form — flexible, resilient in its own way, but not a pure heritage breed.

Because the asong gubat is endemic to the Philippines — that means it is found nowhere else in the world — its conservation matters deeply.

What makes the asong gubat special?

Its origin is native: it has lived for centuries across forested zones in Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao, adapting to terrain, climate and human-community interactions.
Unique traits: among the tales and reports: climbing ability, incredible agility, even reports of shedding of claws (yes, the claim is “claws-shedding”).

Cultural integration: indigenous communities have for generations valued this dog for hunting, guarding and spiritual roles.
Reproductive and genetic isolation: some researchers claim these dogs reproduce primarily among their own kind, helping retain a distinct identity.

So what is the status of recognition and conservation?
The breed is being documented by the Philippine Canine Club, Inc. (PCCI) in collaboration with the Philippine Forest Dog Legacy Club, Inc. (PFDLC).
There are efforts to have it recognized internationally by the Fédération Cynologique Internationale (FCI).

So here are some questions and suggestions I pose:

Why not put their images on our postage stamps? Imagine a special stamp featuring the asong gubat — symbol of Philippine biodiversity.
Why not include them on coins or bank notes? Wouldn’t that elevate their status in the national consciousness?
Why not teach about them in our schools — as part of biology, heritage, culture lessons?
Why not protect them in the wild by empowering our indigenous tribes, mapping ancestral domains, designating these dogs’ forest habitat as sanctuaries?
Why not build a community-led conservation programme that integrates ecology, culture and indigenous stewardship?

Because this is not just about a dog — it is about our identity, our environment, and our heritage. The asong gubat can become a flagship species for land-race preservation in the Philippines.

When we speak of “landraces”, we often think of plants. But animals too — when they evolve naturally in local environments, adapt to local conditions, and maintain genetic distinctiveness, they matter in the same way. The asong gubat is exactly that kind of landrace: locally adapted, genetically diverse (relative to modern highly-bred dogs), not the product of intensive human breeding but rather of informal, natural selection in forest ecosystems.

From a broader systems perspective:

This dog is a bridging point between ecology, culture, indigenous knowledge and national identity.
Protecting it means protecting habitat, protecting indigenous livelihoods, and protecting biodiversity.
It offers regenerative potential — for communities, for eco-tourism, for place-based identity, for educational outreach.

Of course, some caveats:

Some of the “unique traits” (claw-shedding, refusal to breed with other dogs, etc) are still not universally accepted by mainstream science — these claims exist in journalistic or folklore sources.
Recognition by a major international body (FCI) takes time and rigorous documentation.
Conservation in the wild means protecting forest habitat, preventing hybridization with mixed dogs, and securing indigenous community buy-in.

My suggestion for a roadmap:

Formalise the breed standard: through PCCI + PFDLC, define what makes the asong gubat distinct — appearance, behaviour, genetics.
Create a biodiversity registry: map where populations still exist (forest barangays, indigenous ancestral domains), engage local communities in documentation.
Legal/Policy overlay: seek recognition of the asong gubat as national breed, embed protection in legislation (perhaps via existing indigenous rights laws or wildlife legislation).
Community-led conservation: support indigenous stewards, provide training, integrate asong gubat in cultural programmes and forest-based eco-projects.
Education/Advocacy: include in school curriculum, campaigns, stamps/coins, national heritage branding.
Research/Genetics: partner with universities, perform DNA studies to confirm distinctness, publish findings.
Link to habitat conservation: protecting asong gubat means protecting forest zones, ancestral lands, ecological corridors.

In short: Our asong gubat is far more than a dog — it is a symbol of the Philippines, of our forests, of indigenous lifeways, of biodiversity and resilient heritage. Protecting it is a statement: we protect our own, we honour our roots, we invest in our future.

So let me ask you, reader: Are we ready to rise to the occasion? To look beyond the cute puppies of imported breeds, and value our own wild-heritage dog? To see it not as mere novelty, but as a national treasure? Because I believe we must. We owe it to our forests, to our communities, and to ourselves.

Let’s kick the ball rolling — put it in a postage stamp, show it, teach it, protect it. Because if we don’t, who will?

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com

senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/05-09-2026