After facing public backlash, the agency quietly deleted the call, saying it is aware of the site's ecological importance and does not plan reclamation projects within the park.
MANILA -- Spanning the coasts of two cities in Metro Manila, and referred to as the capital region's "last coastal frontier," Las Piñas-Parañaque Wetland Park (LPPWP) is a critical site of both ecological and economic importance.
Primarily made up of two interconnected artificial islands, Freedom Island and Long Island, this thriving wetland ecosystem along Manila Bay started out as an unintentionally formed patch of land, the product of accumulated debris from a massive expressway construction project that was completed in 1985.
Four decades later, the nearly 182-hectare (450-acre) habitat continues to be a sanctuary for more than 163 local and migratory bird species -- including the endemic Philippine duck (Anas luzonica) and the Chinese egret (Egretta eulophotes), both listed as vulnerable on the IUCN Red List -- as well as 23 mangrove species and numerous types of commercially viable fish and mollusks. Recognized as a Ramsar site for its global significance, the wetland provides food and serves as a stopover for an estimated 5,000 individual birds, particularly during the peak of the migration season from August to April.
"LPPWP is called Metro Manila's last coastal frontier because it really is the last remaining functional mangrove ecosystem," says Kisha Muaña, a conservation biologist and policy and advocacy officer at Wetlands International Philippines, emphasizing that the robust forest serves as a haven for fish reproduction.
According to Muaña, thousands of fishers from Las Piñas and Parañaque, as well as other nearby cities and provinces, rely heavily on the fish that mature in LPPWP as their source of food and livelihood.
In March 2025, the Philippine Reclamation Authority (PRA), the national agency tasked with overseeing investments for all large-scale reclamation projects in the country, called for "lease or joint venture" proposals within LPPWP in a now-deleted Facebook post. Environmental activists slammed the move, calling it a "brazen commodification" of the protected area.
"A lot of people called them out that time: scientists, environmentalists, experts in the field," Muaña says.
And while the agency appears to have junked its call for proposals in the face of public backlash, conservationists and advocates remain vigilant in monitoring proposed and ongoing activities in the area that could negatively impact its ecological balance.
The stakes, conservationists say, are high. In addition to the wetland's ecological significance and its role in food sustainability, LPPWP also plays a vital role in safeguarding the surrounding communities from the impacts of climate change.
"LPPWP is a nature-based solution, so it actually protects our coastal communities and also promotes climate resilience," says Matthew Vincent Tabilog, an early-career marine biologist and founder of Mangrove Matters Philippines. Acting as buffer zones during storms, the mangrove forests reduce the intensity of coastal flooding while protecting fishing boats.
Protecting a wetland of international importance
That LPPWP became the ecological refuge that it is today is both a fortuitous accident and an unfortunate reminder of Manila Bay's former glory. Muaña notes that in the early 1900s, there were more than 74,000 hectares (about 183,000 acres) of mangroves across the bay, a number that dropped sharply to just 1,350 hectares (3,336 acres) as of 2015. "There's a lot that we lost due to reclamation and land-use conversion. Here in Manila Bay, a lot of mangroves were cut down to give way for aquaculture and fish ponds."
According to Tabilog, there's a major gap in science communication when it comes to educating the public about LPPWP and mangrove forests. "When we talk about biodiversity, it's always about the coral reefs and tropical rainforests -- nothing about wetlands." He says it's vital that children in the Philippines, a country that's among the most vulnerable to the impacts of the climate crisis, learn about wetlands and the importance of protecting these ecosystems.
Within the last 20 years, the Philippine government has taken significant steps to protect LPPWP. A presidential proclamation in 2007 established the islands as a critical habitat, defining the park's boundaries and allowing it to be formally managed and protected as a crucial biodiversity hotspot. And in 2013, LPPWP became the Philippines' sixth Ramsar site.
"It's a very tedious process to apply for a site to be a Ramsar wetland," says educator and mangrove botanist Genea Nichole Cortez. Out of the nine criteria for Ramsar site eligibility, Cortez says LPPWP meets three, including supporting 1% of the individuals in a population of one species or subspecies of waterbird -- in this case, the black-winged stilt (Himantopus himantopus).
In 2018, the enactment of the Expanded National Integrated Protected Area System (ENIPAS) further bolstered the legal framework for conserving LPPWP, making it a National Protected Area. And just this year, in January, Senate Bill No. 1536 (a.k.a. the LPPWP Protection Act) was approved, establishing an additional 3-kilometer (1.9-mile) buffer zone around the wetland.
Current and potential threats to Metro Manila's last mangrove forest
Despite existing efforts toward protecting LPPWP's ecological and economic viability, including regular volunteer-run cleanup drives, threats to its long-term sustainability persist.
Some are related to the climate crisis: In October 2019, for instance, heavy rains were said to have flushed decomposed organic matter into LPPWP, leading to low concentrations of dissolved oxygen in the water and causing the deaths of thousands of fish and crustaceans.
Others are directly human-caused. Pollutants generated by neighboring industrial activities and residential communities wash into the wetland, while reclamation projects nearby or along Manila Bay, coupled with a lack of awareness regarding proper mangrove conservation, also endanger the ecosystem.
In the case of the reclamation authority's call for development proposals in LPPWP -- which, as it reportedly described to conservationists, was for an "ecotourism plan" -- it was the lack of clear guidelines regarding what could and couldn't be done that alarmed conservationists.
"Legally, the reclaimed land is owned by the government, owned by the state," says Nikka Oquias, an environmental lawyer affiliated with conservation NGO Oceana Philippines. The PRA holds certificates of titles over certain portions of LPPWP, giving it the right to enter into lease agreements with individuals or corporations.
However, because LPPWP is a protected area, limitations apply, particularly with regard to leasing. Aside from the need to comply with the requirements stated under ENIPAS, such projects must also pass the approval of the Protected Area Management Board of the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) before they can proceed.
Describing mangroves as "the most protected tree among all trees in the Philippines," Oquias says the country's fisheries code clearly prohibits the conversion of mangroves. "I just want to highlight the injustice in this situation, considering that mangroves have many laws protecting them."
He notes that "All protected areas in the Philippines, ideally, must have a protected area plan that states which area you can develop, which area is for ecotourism." He adds that activists sent a letter of inquiry to the PRA in April, asking for details of the projects. "Which areas does [the PRA] plan to lease for ecotourism projects that they plan to build, and what are the implications? Would this harm the LPPWP?"
Following the public backlash, the PRA released a series of statements on social media emphasizing that it is the "rightful owner of the property" and warning against "the misuse of environmental advocacy to protect the public good, promote responsible development, and prevent private interests from derailing nation-building efforts." The agency also released a video in which it said mangroves can be relocated prior to a reclamation project.
"In the Philippines, if you relocate mangroves, the most common process or method of relocating mangroves is through mangrove earthballing, which simply means you transfer the mangroves into a different area," says Tabilog, who co-authored a paper along with Cortez, Muaña and Oquias on the ecological and legal implications of any reclamation projects within LPPWP. In their paper, they warned about the high cost of transplanting mangroves, as well as the fact that the documented survival rate of earthballed mangroves in the Philippines hovers between 0% and 51%.
Tabilog also notes an unfortunate potential side effect of transplanting mangroves: "Once the mangrove soil gets disturbed, the [stored carbon] gets released into the atmosphere ... instead of being a carbon sink, mangroves become a carbon source -- a driver for climate change."
"In PRA's statement, they said that the backlash didn't come from true environmentalists, which is somewhat offensive to us," Muaña says. "I think advocates have a strong stance on this because the LPPWP is a Ramsar site. And if they can get away with this in a Ramsar site, they might become unstoppable in the future."
"I believe that they're not really acknowledging the letters [containing the concerns of the advocates]," Cortez says, adding the agency has quietly deleted some of its posts.
Emailed statements from the agency to Mongabay suggest the PRA may have indeed silently scrubbed its plans for LPPWP's redevelopment, at least in the short term. In its correspondence, the PRA said it is fully aware of LPPWP's ecological importance, and stated that it "does not intend to conduct reclamation within the LPPWP," a notable shift from its March announcement. Instead, the agency said it would launch a design competition to "engage professional designers, environmental experts, urban planners, and ecologists to propose sustainable, inclusive, and ecologically sensitive solutions that respect the character and biodiversity of the LPPWP, while supporting the broader goal of national economic development."
Meanwhile, the DENR told Mongabay that its Metro Manila office deemed it "unnecessary to pursue formal intervention at this time," given that the PRA had removed its lease offering. Should the LPPWP Protection Act be enacted into law, it would also transfer ownership of "portions" of LPPWP from the PRA to the DENR.
As of September 2025, LPPWP is not among the properties listed on the PRA's website that are up for lease or joint venture proposals, and no design competition has been announced.
"No matter how much we desire to really develop Metro Manila, we should not forget that there are fisherfolk there who will be left behind," Muaña says, adding that there are numerous documentaries highlighting how reclamation projects along Manila Bay have resulted in declining fish catch.
"If the LPPWP is the last coastal frontier of Metro Manila, let's leave it for the fisherfolk and the other benefits it provides for Metro Manila. Let's not reclaim everything."
Banner image: A walkway built amid the mangrove trees. Image by Mark David De Guzman / One Pawikan Initiative.
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Citation:
Tabilog, M. V., Cortez, G. N., Baure, J., De Guzman, M. D., Oquias, N. A., Muaña, K. E., ... Alpay, P. M. (2024). Ecological and legal implications of the proposed development in a Ramsar site in Metro Manila, Philippines. The Antoninus Journal, 10(1), 94-108. Retrieved from https://theantoninus.com.ph/issues/95