Protecting what protects us
The rains came not as a warning but as a verdict–a verdict that our government is failing to do what is necessary to prepare our nation for the catastrophic impacts of a changing climate.
Over the past week, a series of typhoons, supercharged by the southwest monsoon, dumped torrents upon our islands and submerged our cities in trash-laden floodwaters. With over half a million people displaced and damages to agriculture and property already estimated to run in the billions, this is not a freak weather occurrence. It is a portent of things to come. Filipino commuters wading through waist-deep floods every time the skies open has now become a routine urban inconvenience, even in the nation’s premier metropolitan centers.
But we shouldn’t accept this as our new “normal”—unless we want to admit that the gold standard of Filipino resilience is simply learning how to swim to work. We cannot allow ourselves to be conditioned into accepting the soggy consequences of corruption and incompetence that have brought the nation to this sorry and sordid state of affairs.
Now, weather agencies are monitoring the specter of a “Super El Niño” in late 2026—one that climate models warn could rank among the strongest and most destructive on record. If our recent monsoon flooding is what a “normal” season does, imagine the sheer catastrophe when typhoons are fueled by a monstrous, record-breaking climate anomaly.
Recalling our tragic and unforgettable experience with Supertyphoon “Yolanda” (Haiyan), we know exactly what happens when systemic unpreparedness meets extreme weather: coastal communities become ground zero for absolute devastation. While leaders pump billions into questionable flood control Band-Aids that wash away with the first drizzle, the country is left completely exposed to the impending climate hammer.
Yet, even as the waters rise, the national conversation remains fixated on concrete and steel—the same materials compromised by decades of greed. To be clear, flood control infrastructure like dikes, seawalls, and pumping stations is essential. But these projects must be built with both structural and institutional integrity, insulated from the rot that has plagued this sector for too long.
Here is what baffles the mind: while the government frantically tries to reengineer its way out of this self-inflicted crisis, with the deployment of new multibillion flood control projects, it completely ignores a solution so obvious, cost effective, and immune to embezzlement that it should have been prioritized decades ago. Mangroves.
Scientific studies confirm that a coastal greenbelt just a hundred meters wide can slash wave energy by three quarters. That is not environmental hyperbole—it is engineering fact. Mangroves absorb the fury of storm surges, serve as nurseries for the fish that our coastal communities depend on, and sequester carbon from the atmosphere at rates that dwarf tropical forests. Every year, they grow stronger. Every storm, they stand firmer. Unlike concrete that cracks or the projects that never materialize, mangroves do not vanish into the pockets of the corrupt. They ask only for space and protection.
This is the ultimate low-hanging fruit of Philippine climate adaptation. It costs a fraction of a mega infrastructure project, while delivering immediate returns in storm protection, food security, and local livelihoods. It provides vulnerable communities the physical buffer they desperately need while we work to purge the deeper rot in our infrastructure sector. Protecting and restoring the country’s remaining 300,000 hectares of mangroves is not an alternative to flood control—it is the very foundation upon which any sensible disaster resilient strategy must be built.
The Iloilo City government recently demonstrated the way forward, passing a landmark ordinance that establishes a 100-meter “no-build” coastal greenbelt zone, and a total ban on reclamation. Across the country, 127 local governments have enacted similar measures, proving that coastal greenbelts are sound environmental policy and practical governance.
But local action can only go so far. Without a national law, these gains remain fragile. Enacting a National Coastal Greenbelt Act is no longer optional—it is a matter of absolute survival. The Marcos administration should have certified this as urgent upon taking office years ago.
The storms will come and the floodwaters will rise again. Mangroves are here, now, ready to shield us—if only leadership possesses the wisdom and the will to protect them.
To delay is to gamble with lives. Our people are running out of time. And our government is running out of excuses. Congress must waste no time in passing the National Coastal Greenbelt Act. The climate emergency does not wait for legislative gridlock, and neither will the next super typhoon.
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Von Hernandez, a Goldman Environmental Prize laureate, is the vice president of Oceana, the largest international advocacy organization dedicated solely to ocean conservation.
