by: Gared Arthur
The measure of a city is not only what it chooses to build but also what it refuses to destroy. Dumaguete now faces that defining test. Along its coastline lies more than a stretch of land beside the sea. It holds the ecosystems, history, and identity that have shaped the City of Gentle People for generations. The question is whether those are worth more than another reclamation project.
Today, Dumaguete’s coastline is no longer just a destination for evening walks or instagrammable sunsets. It has become the center of a debate that reaches far beyond infrastructure. At stake is not merely a development project, but the kind of city Dumaguete chooses to become.
Reclamation is often marketed as a pathway to prosperity, promising investments, employment, and economic growth. These aspirations deserve consideration. But development should never demand the permanent loss of natural resources that have taken centuries, even millennia, to flourish.
Progress that comes at the expense of an irreplaceable ecosystem is not progress, it is a trade we cannot undo.
Researchers from Silliman University’s Institute of Environmental and Marine Sciences (IEMS) documented that Dumaguete’s approximately 8-kilometer coastline supports more than 200 species of fish, around 200 coral species, over 100 species of marine invertebrates, and seven species of seagrass. Their findings identified threatened coral species and recognized the coastline as an environmentally critical area, underscoring its ecological significance.
These are more than impressive figures. They describe a living system that quietly protects the city every day. Coral reefs provide breeding grounds for marine life. Seagrass meadows improve water quality and shelter juvenile species. Mangroves stabilize coastlines, absorb carbon, and soften the impact of storm surges. Long before engineers designed seawalls, nature had already built one.
It is no surprise, then, that proposals for large-scale coastal reclamation ignited widespread public debate. The National Academy of Science and Technology (NAST) warned that reclamation could permanently damage coral reefs, seagrass beds, and other coastal habitats essential to marine biodiversity. National Scientist Dr. Angel C. Alcala, whose work laid the foundation for marine conservation in the Philippines, echoed the same warning: ecosystems buried beneath reclaimed land cannot simply be recreated.
This is not a choice between development and conservation, it is a choice between short-term ambition and long-term wisdom.
A truly progressive city understands that economic growth and environmental stewardship are not competing goals. They are inseparable; healthy ecosystems sustain tourism, support marine resources, and preserve the quality of life that makes Dumaguete unique. Sacrificing them for immediate returns weakens the very foundation upon which lasting development depends.
That is why this debate is not about reclamation; It is about deciding what kind of inheritance we choose to leave behind.
Dumagueteños, some investments generate profits, others preserve a legacy. The decisions made today will determine whether future generations inherit a coastline alive with coral reefs, seagrass, and thriving marine life, or merely another stretch of reclaimed land.
Some things can be bought. A living coastline is clearly not for sale.
