Between the rain, the long drives, the meals shared after a day in the field and that unexpected climb up the mountain, the trip offered a reminder that mining stories are rarely confined to the boundaries of a mine site.
REPORTERS take part in the rehabilitation efforts by planting seedlings at the former Berong Nickel mining site in Palawan.
THE calm waters of the beach reflect the soft glow of the night sky, offering a quiet and peaceful view along the Palawan coastline.
A trail leading to the canopy walk, one of the attractions in El Nido, Palawan.
A fully rehabilitated portion of the former mining site covered with coco coir to help stabilize the soil and support vegetation growth.
DAILY TRIBUNE reporter Mico Virata (above) stands at the entrance of the canopy walk in El Nido, Palawan, wearing a safety helmet and harness. Virata and other reporters (below) pose with DMCI employees at the ‘Spider Web’ viewing platform of the El Nido Via Ferrata Canopy Walk on Taraw Cliff.
Clear criteria needed for its use
Marathon dancing is not for the faint-hearted. Nigerian professional dancer Benjamin Daniel did it in an attempt to set…
A war of words has erupted between the Chinese Embassy in Manila and the maritime research group SeaLight over…
Marcos acknowledged the Philippines still has significant ground to cover relative to its regional and global peers.
It was my second time in Palawan, and somehow, the rain was waiting for me again.
The flight going into Palawan was very turbulent, the skies were gray, the roads were wet, and somewhere between visits to mining sites, conversations over good food and the usual fieldwork rush, our group found time for a small side quest — a mini mountain hike that was less planned expedition and more “we’re already here, so why not?”
But this trip was not really about the mine.
At least, not just about the mine.
The DMCI Mining agri-mining beat tour offered a closer look at what happens around a mining operation — and how the industry can become woven into the daily lives of communities hosting it.
In the communities surrounding DMCI Mining’s operations, some of the benefits are tangible.
Mining revenues provide a source of local support, including the 1-percent royalty share allocated to host communities. The company has also helped provide electricity and water, improved farm-to-market roads and supported connectivity through Starlink in areas where reliable internet access can otherwise be difficult.
For residents, these are not abstract figures on a balance sheet.
A road means a farmer can move produce more easily.
Electricity means a household or community facility can stay connected.
Water means one less basic necessity to worry about.
Internet access can open a door to information, education and communication that remote communities can easily be cut off from.
Then there are the jobs.
Mining creates direct employment while supporting other livelihoods and businesses around its operations.
For communities in resource-rich but geographically remote areas, those opportunities can make a meaningful difference to household incomes.
Healthcare is another part of the equation, with mining operations supporting medical services and other community programs.
These benefits, however, do not erase the environmental responsibilities that come with mining.
That is where the story becomes more complicated.
At Berong, where mining ended in 2021, DMCI Mining’s rehabilitation work is focused on restoring the former mine site and preparing it for eventual turnover to the government.
The work goes beyond planting trees, involving slope stabilization, topsoil replacement, erosion and drainage control, ecological restoration and biodiversity monitoring.
While DMCI Mining continues to expand its operations at Long Point, the contrast is hard to miss: One part of Palawan is preparing for more production, while another is being prepared for life after mining.
Between the rain, the long drives, the meals shared after a day in the field and that unexpected climb up the mountain, the trip offered a reminder that mining stories are rarely confined to the boundaries of a mine site.
They are also stories about the people living around them.
About roads and water.
About electricity and connectivity.
About work, healthcare and livelihoods.
And perhaps that is what stayed with me most after leaving Palawan.
Mining is measured in tons extracted, number of trees that were cut, revenues earned and projects completed.
But for the communities around it, its footprint can be measured in something much more ordinary: A road that connects a farm to the market, a light that stays on, water that reaches a home, a signal that connects a family to the rest of the world, a job that puts food on the table, or a hospital that is there when someone needs it.
The harder question is what happens when the mining ends.
Standing on the mountain, surrounded by rain and green, that question felt less like an industry issue and more like a community one.
Because when the last truck leaves and the last shipment is loaded, the real measure of responsible mining may not be what was taken from the ground.
It may be what was left behind.
