My home country of the Philippines is incredibly vulnerable to the effects of climate change. Within the past 10 years alone, the Philippines has been struck by two of the strongest and deadliest typhoons in recorded history – Haiyan and Rai. I was still living in the Philippines when Typhoon Haiyan tore across our lands in 2013. Haiyan affected at least 14.2 million Filipinos across 44 provinces. It led to the displacement of 4.1 million people and the death of more than 6,000 people.
More than 5.9 million workers, many of whom were already living below the poverty line, lost their livelihoods. Local officials estimated that Tacloban City on the centrally located Leyte island was 90% destroyed.
More recently, on December 16, 2021 while many were still suffering the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic, Super Typhoon Rai struck the Philippines.
Nearly four million people were displaced in the central and southern regions of the country, 415,000 homes were destroyed, millions of people who depended on farming and fishing as their main sources of income suffered livelihood loss. Coupled with increasing food prices, the typhoon put many people at higher risk of food insecurity.
Typhoon Haiyan changed my whole outlook on how I wanted to spend my life. Seeing the climate disaster’s effects on so many vulnerable people’s lives motivated me to learn how I could help, and a key start was to study environmental science to fight for fairer climate policies.
Soon into my studies, I realized that something vital was missing in the climate conversation: the voices of affected communities. So I traveled back to the Philippines in 2015 to interview Typhoon Haiyan affected coastal communities in the worst-hit central region of the Philippines. Upon my return nearly two years later, I was shocked to discover fallen trees and remnants of damaged homes still lying along the coast in Guiuan, Eastern Samar.
What gave me hope though was hearing local residents in Ilo-ilo, Palawan and Eastern Samar describe how mangrove forests had protected them from the storms. I learned that vulnerable communities here had already been community organizing to adapt, shoring up climate resilience through community-based mangrove forest management.
Photo credit: ZSL
For example, seeing the changing climate and its impacts long before supertyphoons struck their communities, fisherfolk communities in Pedada village, Ilo-ilo formed the Pedada Fisherfolk Association in 2003 as a way to support sustainable fishing livelihoods.
First initiated as an all-male association, as knowledge and opportunities for climate resilience grew, so too did their membership, leading to the inclusion of women to take up coastal clean-up and other income-generating projects in the village.
Their work was inspiring and gained international support when the Zoological Society of London (ZSL) partnered to support their mangrove rehabilitation project in 2008. With the technical guidance, training and education provided by ZSL, the fisherfolk communities gained a deeper appreciation of the mangrove forest that surrounds them, and how it can actually protect them from increasing disasters.
These are the linkages we need to strengthen if we are to build effective climate adaptation policies. They also inform just how much loss and damage is at stake for vulnerable and economically disadvantaged, not just in the Philippines but all throughout the Global South.
Association members told me, “until organizations like ZSL came to teach us the significance of mangroves, I did not know that mangroves are the hidden wealth of Pedada.”
Photo credit: Glenn Labrado, ZSL
The mangrove rehabilitation projects not only buttress disaster impacts when they happen, but also provide year-round additional sources of income through crop cultivation and tourism revenue. The mangrove forest has enabled the return of local biodiversity, allowing for an abundance of fish and shellfish, and increased food security and livelihood income.
Especially in the Global South, community access to natural resources is crucial to the survival of families. In the fishing villages of Ilo-ilo, families with a monthly income of less than 1,000 PHP (18 USD) are able to survive through fishing and harvesting of shellfish and crops for subsistence.
For many developing countries where livelihoods are limited even in the absence of a disaster, rebuilding after a disaster is an arduous process. The economic shocks experienced by poorer families can have impacts that span generations. Low-income families tend to lose a larger fraction of their wealth and lack savings and insurance as protection when climate disasters strike.
The Fourth Intergovernmental Panel for Climate Change (IPCC) indicates coastal communities will likely experience more severe impacts from temperature and sea level rise. As a country with about 60% of its municipalities and cities lying along the coast, the Philippines is at high risk. Increasing coastal community resiliency that has the potential for longer-term impact is necessary especially in countries like the Philippines that experiences 19 to 20 cyclones each year.
Despite some permanent losses of some of the people I interviewed in Ilo-ilo, I was happy to learn that community-based mangrove forest rehabilitation has helped them cope with typhoon impacts and hope for a safer future. With appropriate support across sectors, we can help reduce the devastating and disproportionate impacts of typhoons on our most vulnerable coastal communities.