LET’S CONVERT CALAUIT SAFARI PARK INTO AN INTERNATIONAL WILDLIFE SANCTUARY

LET’S CONVERT CALAUIT SAFARI PARK INTO AN INTERNATIONAL WILDLIFE SANCTUARY

Calauit Island in Busuanga, Palawan, has a unique story. It began in 1976 as an ambitious experiment—perhaps one of the most unusual in Asia. Then-President Ferdinand Marcos declared it the Calauit Game Preserve and Wildlife Sanctuary, and soon after, giraffes, zebras, and antelopes from Kenya were flown to the Philippines. The idea was to provide a “new home” for African animals threatened by drought and habitat loss. Today, the place is officially called Calauit Safari Park—and while it still shelters some of those descendants, the park’s original vision has faded into something more like a tourist attraction than a global conservation effort.

I believe it’s time to bring that original vision back—but on a much grander, more purposeful scale. Why not transform Calauit into an International Wildlife Sanctuary? A true Noah’s Ark for endangered and threatened species from all over the world.

At 3,700 hectares, Calauit is big enough to host not just African wildlife, but carefully selected species from every continent—each representing ecosystems on the brink of collapse. Of course, strict ecological controls must be in place to ensure that none of these species ever escape and become invasive. We’ve seen what happened when non-native species like golden apple snails, tilapia, and even giant African snails disrupted local biodiversity. A sanctuary must protect, not endanger, the balance of nature.

If properly managed, Calauit could serve as the world’s last refuge for species that have nowhere else to go. Imagine a place where scientists from Africa, South America, and Asia collaborate to save animals that are disappearing in the wild. Imagine students from the University of the Philippines studying side by side with biologists from Kenya, Brazil, or Madagascar. Imagine the Philippines—already a recognized global center of biodiversity—becoming the center stage of international wildlife preservation.

That is not just an environmental dream; it’s a strategic opportunity.

Let’s look at the facts. According to the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), over 44,000 species worldwide are now threatened with extinction. Climate change, habitat destruction, and illegal trade have accelerated this crisis beyond the capacity of most local conservation efforts. Countries that once had large wildlife populations are struggling to maintain them, often due to conflict, poverty, or industrial pressure.

This is where the Philippines could step in—not as a “zoo nation,” but as a sanctuary nation.

We already have the land. We already have international goodwill and biodiversity expertise through the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) and the Department of Science and Technology (DOST). What we need now is a coordinated plan, ideally led by the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA), to invite global partnerships. Each participating country could “adopt” or “sponsor” the care of its endangered species hosted in Calauit. It could be a form of ecological diplomacy, turning compassion for wildlife into cooperation among nations.

It’s also an educational opportunity. The presence of foreign scientists and conservationists could help train a new generation of Filipino ecologists, veterinarians, and environmental planners. Local universities could partner with global institutions—Oxford, Nairobi, or Kyoto—for joint research. Our students could study not just biology, but the ethics and geopolitics of conservation.

Economically, it makes sense too. Eco-tourism, when responsibly managed, brings in sustainable income to local communities. Calauit could be rebranded not as a “safari” but as a living laboratory—a showcase of coexistence between humanity and nature. If Rwanda and Kenya can earn millions annually through ethical wildlife tourism, why can’t Palawan do the same while protecting both native and foreign species?

Of course, the transition must be guided by science, not spectacle. The African animals already there—reticulated giraffes and Grévy’s zebras among them—should remain, but the park should prioritize endangered species over exotic appeal. Partnerships with the UN Environment Programme (UNEP) and World Wildlife Fund (WWF) could help establish standards for health, genetics, and breeding programs.

We could even take inspiration from Costa Rica, which transformed itself into a world model of eco-conservation and now earns more from sustainable tourism than from traditional agriculture. Calauit, if managed with vision, could play a similar role for Asia.

But to make this happen, we must change the mindset. Calauit should no longer be seen as a relic of a 1970s experiment—it should become a 21st-century beacon of hope.

So here’s my question: What does it really cost us? Practically nothing. We already own the island. What we need is a decision, a policy framework, and the political will to invite the world to join us.

Calauit could be more than just a park—it could be humanity’s last stand for the world’s endangered species.

Perhaps, someday, people will no longer visit the island just to take pictures of giraffes. They’ll come to witness how one small island in the Philippines became the heart of a global movement to protect life itself.

And if that day comes, then Calauit will no longer just be a safari—it will be a sanctuary, in every sense of the word.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 03-15-2026