HAVE WE FORGOTTEN TO RESTORE THE LAHAR AFFECTED AREAS?

HAVE WE FORGOTTEN TO RESTORE THE LAHAR AFFECTED AREAS?

Should we not require affected LGUs to have their own rehabilitation plans? Are these plans not supposed to be interrelated with agricultural development plans? And are these not supposed to be coordinated with river dredging and flood control plans? These are basic questions that somehow remain unanswered, more than 30 years after the cataclysmic eruption of Mount Pinatubo buried vast portions of Pampanga, Tarlac, and Zambales in lahar.

I raise these questions because when we talk about lahar, most people think of it as a thing of the past—something that happened in 1991, now “finished.” But is it really finished? The reality is that lahar never completely goes away. It remains in the river systems, in the lowlands, and in the memories of communities who still live with the risk of sudden mudflows whenever typhoons bring heavy rains.

Which agency of government has jurisdiction over the rehabilitation of lahar areas? Is it the DENR, since lahar is technically “earth material”? Is it DPWH, since lahar flows block rivers and endanger bridges? Is it DA, since buried farmlands need to be revived? Or is it left to the LGUs, who have limited resources? Fragmented responsibility often leads to neglect.

And when does the responsibility of PHIVOLCS end over the lahar areas? Strictly speaking, their role is to monitor volcanic hazards and warn communities. Once the eruption is over and the volcano quiets down, PHIVOLCS has no direct mandate to restore the land. But what happens to the thousands of hectares of sterile, ash-covered soils after the warnings subside? Who takes ownership of that responsibility?

Other volcanoes remind us that lahar is not just Pinatubo’s story. Mayon continues to threaten surrounding towns with lahar flows after every major eruption. Kanlaon, as recently as this year, forced evacuations because of mudflows triggered by heavy rains. Bulusan and Banahaw have also left their marks. Yet, rehabilitation remains piecemeal, often reactive, and rarely integrated into long-term agricultural planning.

I cannot help but wonder—have we forgotten that lahar-affected areas can still be restored? We have the technology. Desert agriculture offers a model: drip irrigation, soil amendments using compost and biochar, hardy pioneer crops like vetiver and moringa, and community-based reforestation with mycorrhizal inoculation. Other countries have transformed deserts into productive farmland—why can’t we turn lahar wastelands into something useful again?

Instead, what has happened in many places is the commodification of lahar. Quarrying for sand and gravel has become the default “rehabilitation plan.” Yes, it helps clear clogged river channels, but beyond that, how much of the revenue really goes into ecological restoration or livelihood recovery? Too often, it ends with trucks hauling lahar to construction sites while communities remain trapped in flood-prone zones.

What is missing is a comprehensive, national framework for lahar rehabilitation—one that goes beyond quarrying and relocation. Imagine if every LGU in lahar zones were required to have a rehabilitation plan, tied directly to agricultural development, river dredging, and flood control. Imagine if DENR, DA, and DPWH worked with LGUs and communities to design circular solutions—like waste-to-soil programs, community-managed reforestation, and even artisan industries using lahar composites for bricks or tiles.

This is not an impossible dream. After all, Pinatubo lahar deposits eventually stabilized and are now being planted with trees, crops, and even turned into eco-tourism areas. But much of this happened organically, not because of a deliberate national rehabilitation strategy. We need to ask ourselves: do we really want to keep leaving the fate of these areas to chance?

Lahar-affected communities deserve more than just survival. They deserve an integrated vision—one that links food security, disaster resilience, and livelihood restoration. If we fail to provide this, we will continue to see lahar as nothing but a recurring hazard, instead of an opportunity for ecological renewal.

So, have we forgotten to restore the lahar-affected areas? Perhaps not entirely—but we have neglected them long enough. It is time to remember, and more importantly, it is time to act.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres
iseneres@yahoo.com, 09088877282, senseneres.blogspot.com

11-26-2025