Art reflects the stories, struggles and identity of the people. But as the climate crisis intensifies, it’s not only ecosystems and livelihoods that are at risk — our cultural and artistic heritage is also increasingly under threat. While the impacts of climate change on food, water, and infrastructure have been widely acknowledged, its destructive consequences on the arts and culture remain not adequately addressed in policy frameworks and public discourse.

Cultural heritage, both tangible and intangible, represents not just our history but also the resilience, creativity and identity that shape our society. From ancestral homes and indigenous traditions to national treasures like Juan Luna’s Spoliarium and Guillermo Tolentino’s Bonifacio Monument, these assets face mounting risks. They are vulnerable to floods, extreme heat, salinity intrusion, and the growing frequency of climate-induced disasters. These threats endanger not only lives and property, but the very soul of the nation.

As seas rise and storms intensify, what is at stake is more than infrastructure. Cultural assets are especially at risk.

According to UNESCO, one in six of the world’s cultural heritage sites is under threat from climate-related hazards. The Philippines is no exception. The Rice Terraces of the Philippine Cordilleras face increased landslide risks and reduced crop harvests. The historic structures of Vigan City are under pressure from shifting climate patterns. Baroque churches and coastal ancestral domains are regularly battered by typhoons. These are not isolated cases. They are part of a growing pattern of loss.

Moreover, intangible cultural heritage such as traditional practices, oral histories, and indigenous knowledge is eroding as communities are displaced by climate-related events. Once lost, these cultural systems cannot be recreated. No amount of investment or infrastructure rebuilding can bring back a vanished tradition or language, as cultural loss is permanent.

Indigenous Peoples, as cultural bearers and stewards of nature, are among the most vulnerable to climate impacts. Yet their knowledge systems are among the most adaptive and sustainable. Preserving their heritage is not only a matter of justice — it is a strategy for resilience.

As communities are displaced and ecosystems degrade, we risk losing both biological and cultural diversity. Their stories, art, music, language, and rituals are deeply tied to their natural environment. To protect these communities is to protect the culture that lives through them.

Nature is not just a backdrop for human activity — it is an integral part of culture. A river may be a water source, but it is also a sacred site. A forest may serve as a carbon sink, but it is also the setting for creation stories, traditional healing, and indigenous rituals. When ecosystems are destroyed, cultural practices disappear with them.

This is why cultural heritage must not be treated as separate from climate policy. Every cleared mangrove, every mined mountain, every polluted river disrupts not just ecological balance, but the threads that connect communities to their identity.

We must challenge the narrow view of development as purely economic. Progress cannot come at the cost of erasing our roots. Rather than focusing solely on gross domestic product or infrastructure, we must embrace a development model that honors culture and protects the planet — a model where traditions are safeguarded, stories endure, and progress respects place.

I am reminded of a visit to a nature reserve in Calawis, Antipolo, where the community redefined GNP — not as Gross National Product, but as God, Nature, People. Thirty years ago, the land was nearly barren, with only 10 percent to 20 percent tree cover. Today, the 40-hectare forest is home to over 51,000 trees, up to 90 percent of which were planted by the community themselves. Conservation efforts started with planting trees, but more importantly, they planted a shared purpose in the hearts of the people.

Led by Toto Malvar, founder of Mount Purro Nature Reserve in Antipolo, the initiative showed that restoring nature is possible only when communities are empowered as partners, not treated as bystanders. Having this worked with the Dumagat communities, reforestation has been coupled with livelihood support, indigenous knowledge preservation, and ecotourism rooted in local values. It is a living example of how cultural identity and ecological stewardship can go hand in hand.

This kind of approach requires a broader mindset: that development should not displace but deepen our connection to who we are. Sustainable progress must uphold identity, community, and heritage — and not treat them as collateral damage.

The Climate Change Commission (CCC) embraces this principle. Climate action is not only about numbers, emissions, and targets. It is about people and their heritage. The CCC continues to promote inclusive, community-based, and culturally grounded strategies for adaptation and mitigation, ensuring that resilience is built with, not against, local values and lived realities.

Through engagements with the Climate Vulnerable Forum (CVF), the Philippines and other climate-vulnerable nations are amplifying the voices of communities whose culture and identity are on the frontlines of climate change. These platforms advocate for equity, justice, and the recognition that preserving culture is a form of climate action.

Culture and climate are inseparable. Thus, every policy, program, project or activity in response to climate change must consider its cultural implications. Overlooking this not only undermines our cultural preservation efforts — it defeats the very purpose of what we aim to protect.

National line agencies, local government units, the academe, business conglomerates and other institutions can contribute by integrating cultural resilience into education, planning, and other climate initiatives. Artists, tradition bearers, and community leaders also play an important role in climate dialogues, and as such, they should be valued as key stakeholders.

Support for cultural preservation can strengthen climate responses, particularly in indigenous and local communities. After all, climate change is not just about rising temperatures. It is about fading songs, disappearing stories, and uprooted identities. It is a battle for memory, for meaning, and for the soul of humanity.

We must act with urgency and purpose not only to reduce emissions but also to protect the traditions and wisdom that sustained communities long before climate science emerged. When we protect ecosystems, we preserve the stories carved into the land, the art shaped by nature, and the identities passed from one generation to the next.

As we confront climate change, we do more than secure our own future — we defend the legacy of all peoples and the future of our planet.