SPECIAL REPORT: Preserving the mangroves of Del Carmen
1st of 2 parts
DEL CARMEN, Surigao del Norte (MindaNews / 31 May) — When sunset falls over this town, Junrey Longos, 44, prepares his gear and boards a boat bound for a watchtower, where he will spend the night guarding a portion of the country’s largest contiguous mangrove forest.
Inside his bag include a pair of binoculars, flashlights, and coffee in a thermos.
From dusk until dawn, Longos keeps watch from the watchtower, a three-story concrete structure with a 360-degree viewing deck, binoculars in hand. He takes short rests every now and then, sipping coffee, but always keeps alert until another guard arrives at 6 a.m. to take over.
But about 15 years ago, Longos was also making his way into the mangrove forest. Back then, though, he wasn’t there to protect it. He was there to cut it down.
Longos was just one of the hundreds of residents of Del Carmen who had resorted to mangrove cutting as a means of livelihood in this coastal town.
For Gina Barquil, the Municipal Environment and Natural Resources Officer (MENRO) of Del Carmen since 2010, the town’s transformation from being once dubbed the “mangrove-cutting capital” to being designated as a Wetland of International Importance under the Ramsar Convention was no easy feat.
She said that while the town now reports zero incidents of illegal cutting, the transformation from that past was neither simple nor swift. And though Longos’ story is his own, it embodies the years of persistence and hope that shaped this hard-fought change.
Rampant illegal cutting of mangroves
Longos, who shared that he began cutting mangroves at the age of 15, said it was his parents who taught him the practice as a means of livelihood.
“This practice was passed down to us from our parents. It was like cutting mangroves was really part of our way of life back then, when no one was stopping us,” he said.
Even then, Longos knew it was illegal.
“We just didn’t have any other livelihood to rely on. This kind of work is easy, it’s simple and quick to do,” he added.
He recalled that in the early 2000s, he used to earn ₱500 a day selling mangrove logs, an amount he considered substantial at the time, especially with a family to support.
“We used to do it every day. We cut [the mangroves] at dawn, then when we get home around 8 in the morning. We immediately work on delivering it. Then we go back for another trip just so we can gather more. We head out in the afternoon, and we usually catch up with the delivery around 8 in the evening so we can get paid,” he said.
According to Longos, people bought mangrove wood for firewood because it burns hot and long like charcoal, making it ideal for cooking as the embers last long.
Barquil explained that mangrove cutting in Del Carmen dates back to the 1980s. When she started as MENRO in 2010, many of the mangrove cutters she encountered were the children of those who had been cutting mangroves for years before them.
“The communities living close to the mangrove areas depended heavily on this practice for their coastal livelihood. Outside these communities, massive piles of chopped mangrove wood could be seen, stacked like mountains,” Barquil said.
She shared that of the 15 coastal barangays of Del Carmen, only one coastal barangay does not have mangroves. The rest were all involved in mangrove cutting.
“The reputation was embarrassing because if you ask around in big cities like Surigao, Butuan, Cebu, especially in bakeries, ‘Where does the mangrove wood come from?’ They would answer that it comes from Del Carmen in Siargao,” Barquil said.
Del Carmen, one of nine municipalities on Siargao Island, is part of the Siargao Island Protected Landscape and Seascape (SIPLAS). The area was declared a protected landscape and seascape under Presidential Proclamation No. 902 in 1996, and its status was strengthened in 2018 through its inclusion in the Expanded National Integrated Protected Areas System (E-NIPAS) under Republic Act No. 11038.
According to the SIPLAS Management Plan (2021–2030), Del Carmen had 5,547.6 hectares of mangrove forest in 1988. By 2003, it had dropped to 4,406 hectares, and further shrank to 4,295 hectares by 2011. The decline was largely attributed to persistent mangrove cutting.
Mangrove cutting is illegal under Philippine laws, particularly under the NIPAS Act of 1992 (RA 7586) and its amendment, the Expanded NIPAS Act.
These laws protect critical habitats, including mangrove forests that are designated as part of protected areas under NIPAS. Cutting or destroying mangroves within these protected zones is considered a criminal offense unless explicitly permitted under an approved management plan.
One of the earliest legal bases that prohibited illegal mangrove cutting was established in 1975 under Presidential Decree No. 705, otherwise known as the Forestry Reform Code of the Philippines, which forbids the cutting, gathering, or collecting of forest products without a license or permit. Section 71 specifically bans the cutting of all mangrove species, while Section 43 states that “all mangrove swamps set aside for coast-protection purposes shall not be subject to clear-cutting operations.”
Lack of data and technical expertise
When Mayor Alfredo Coro II assumed office in 2010, one of the first things he recognized was Del Carmen’s biggest natural asset—the mangrove forest.
“I felt at the time it was underutilized for its potential for tourism, for food, for protection. But we weren’t exactly sure because of the lack of available data at the time,” Coro said.
But that opportunity came when the newly formed Climate Change Commission included Siargao in a study around 2011.
“They immediately told us about the potential impact of continuous cutting towards risk of storm surges, towards risk of food security, towards other risks that might impact other ecosystems,” he added.
Coro said these findings pushed the local government to act swiftly. But rather than enforcing rules from the top down, they chose a different path, one rooted in dialogue and trust-building.
“We have to go literally house to house in all the barangays to convince them. But not imposing on what we know. Instead, we collected their thoughts. They knew it was bad, but they just don’t have an option. So we had to create that option for them,” he said.
That “option” meant providing alternative livelihoods and reducing economic dependence on mangrove cutting. Coro emphasized that solving the issue wasn’t just about enforcement, it was about addressing what he called the “holistic social determinants.”
But he said the LGU couldn’t do it alone. Coro acknowledged that they didn’t have the technical expertise or access to scientific data to design effective strategies. That’s when he turned to non-government organizations (NGO), particularly Sentro para sa Ikauunlad ng Katutubong Agham at Teknolohiya, Inc. (SIKAT), to help them fill the gaps.
“Data will give you guidance. NGOs can give you that opportunity to access the experts to give you the data. So it’s very, very critical. Without NGOs, I don’t think we could have done it,” he said.
Coro—who served as mayor from 2010 to 2019, became vice mayor from 2019 to 2022, then returned to the mayoral post in 2022 and was reelected in 2025—said the collaboration with NGOs made all the difference not only in building science-backed strategies but also in effectively communicating with communities.
Enforcement without arrests
Back in 2012, when SIKAT began surveying the coastal communities of Del Carmen, the staff were met with unease and wariness from the locals.
Dian Animo, then a community organizer of SIKAT assigned to Barangays Domoyog, Caub, Antipolo, San Jose, and Del Carmen, recalled how difficult those early days were.
“When the staff were scanning the area, they felt uneasy because of the way people looked at them. The stares felt sharp. Locals assumed SIKAT personnel were there to arrest them like enforcement officers,” he said.
Still, the organization pushed forward. Animo said the team continued its assessments and eventually identified its target communities.
With a proposal approved and initial funding secured from Oxfam, SIKAT launched its first project in the area, focused primarily on enforcement.
But enforcement, Animo stressed, didn’t begin with arrests.
“We don’t arrest people outright. We conducted IEC [Information, Education, and Communication] sessions first to inform the public about national laws. Then we coordinate with the LGU and hold public hearings. Only after that do we start enforcement,” she said.
According to Animo, many locals initially viewed their group with hostility, mistakenly seeing them as adversaries simply for enforcing laws that weren’t fully understood.
Threats
Animo said that SIKAT staff received threats in various forms, which were relayed to them by members of the Bantay Dagat, a community-based volunteer organization found all over the Philippines that help patrol the seas.
“We usually hear it from the Bantay Dagat because they’re the ones who stay on the pump boat after an apprehension, while we go straight to the police station. They’re the ones who later tell us that the people we caught made threats to kill us,” she said.
On Barquil’s end, she received death threats and harassment from some community members during the strict enforcement phase.
In one instance, when Barquil confiscated illegal mangrove timber linked to a government official, the latter went to her office and punched her.
Over time, however, Animo said the community came to recognize that SIKAT and the local government unit were actually working in support of the fisherfolk, not against them.
Livelihood opportunities
In 2015, SIKAT received further funding from development partners like Misereor and Oxfam. That support helped them expand their interventions.
Animo said they identified at least 428 individuals, mostly based in Del Carmen and some from neighboring San Benito, involved in mangrove cutting.
To provide sustainable alternatives, the organization introduced livelihood programs such as king crab fattening and danggit drying in barangays under Del Carmen’s jurisdiction.
“We also provided pump boats and fish traps,” Animo added.
Longos, who was later given alternative livelihood support, said the shift to becoming a fisherfolk was difficult, especially after depending on mangrove cutting for years.
He said that even after his inclusion in programs given by SIKAT and the local government, it still took him nearly two years to fully stop cutting mangroves. While he was no longer doing it regularly, he admitted that there were still times he would secretly sneak out at dawn to the mangroves and make sure to return before sunrise to avoid being caught.
“Compared to fishing, cutting mangroves was easier. It’s just there. You don’t have to venture farther out into deeper waters, catch fish, and sell them to buy food. I did it once in a while, in secret, because I had a family to feed,” Longos said.
He noted that over time, as he continued fishing and enforcement became stricter, it was no longer worth the risk. More apprehensions took place and signages were put up around the mangrove areas, clearly warning of the consequences if caught.
Barquil noted that while several NGOs had worked in the area over the years, it was SIKAT that helped them develop a structured approach.
“They started by developing a Mangrove Management Plan, a plan that outlined the needed budget, structure, and implementation process. We followed their model and eventually became successful. The livelihood interventions they proposed were effective,” Barquil said.
While SIKAT covered the eight coastal barangays in Del Carmen, the remaining six were managed by the LGU.
Animo said that over the years, SIKAT implemented a total of ₱239 million worth of environmental and livelihood programs across Siargao, including Del Carmen. Their final operations in the municipality concluded in 2024.
“We believe Del Carmen can now stand on its own. We’ve now moved to other municipalities that need support,” she said.
Animo is currently the field program manager for SIKAT in neighboring Dinagat Island. (Ivy Marie Mangadlao / MindaNews)
This story is published with the support of Canal France International under the Media for One Health program.
Tomorrow: Rehabilitated mangrove forest now a tourism area
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