By Robert B. Roque, Jr.
At the start of the year, United States President Donald J. Trump decided to withdraw the United States from dozens of international treaties and organizations. This means a withdrawal of money, attention, and political will from global problems farther from the interest of America.
With all the systemic ills clouding our present government, what happens in the US will seem similarly farthest from our concern. However, this decision of Trump essentially withdraws monetary support for climate change resilience, an equation that affects our archipelago in what is the stormiest area in the Pacific.
Trump has pulled out funding for the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change, the central multilateral treaty guiding international cooperation against global warming, alongside roughly 30 UN-linked bodies and 35 non-UN organizations. In practical terms, these funding cuts are a direct hit on programs for climate adaptation and disaster preparedness, which are precisely the kind of support countries like the Philippines quietly but heavily rely on.
Fun-loving Pinoys always forget that our country sits in one of the most disaster-prone corridors on Earth, absorbing an average of 22 typhoons a year. So, for us, climate resilience is not an aspirational policy language that we romanticize on the world stage. It is actually a lived experience in evacuation centers that hold our kababayans; early warning systems that function; and flood control projects that should work — and should exist, in the first place!
Add to that relief and rescue operations that must arrive before bodies are counted.
There are voices among local analysts that rationalize this development in the US and what it means for us. Perhaps, they are right to temper any immediate alarm. Our bilateral relationship with the United States remains anchored on hard security arrangements, particularly the Mutual Defense Treaty.
Some would even sensibly argue that Manila has options in coping with Washington’s retreat from disaster and climate change resilience funding outside its borders – something, I find, kind of dumb really, since we live on the same planet. For example, how do you separate the melting of ice in the Arctic from sea level rise in tropical islands?
But, going back to our options, we can, as a sovereign and independent nation, diversify partners, strengthen regional cooperation, and use our bid for a nonpermanent UN Security Council seat to keep climate and disaster concerns alive in multilateral spaces.
While we do temper the alarm, we must never dismiss the risks that may be harder to mitigate if big funding, particularly from the Big Brother himself, suddenly becomes scarce or totally absent. If global funding streams thin — and the signs from Washington certainly point that way — the pressure shifts inward. And that is where unease hardens into a warning foremost to our own government.
The Marcos Jr. administration’s handling of public funds since 2022 has been, at best, unimpressive and, at worst, scandal-ridden: questionable insertions, ghost projects, and spending lapses that suggest a loose, if not cheating, relationship with taxpayer money.
That casualness cannot be the operating formula for disaster preparedness and climate mitigation. Not here. Not now. Typhoons, earthquakes, droughts, El Niño, and storm surges do not care the least about procurement shortcuts or padded budgets. Floods do not pause for congressional explanations. When planning is sloppy and funds are misused, the cost is not just wasted pesos. Rather, it translates to lost time, lost homes, and lost lives.
With external buffers weakening, the government has no excuse left. Shape up, clean up, and plan seriously — because in the most storm-hit country in the world, failure is not theoretical. It is fatal.
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