Ecological Footprint

Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD

How many hectares of land and sea does it take to carry you?

This is not a riddle or a metaphorical question—it’s a real one. And it’s one we all need to ask ourselves, whether we’re farmers in Ilocos, students in Manila, office workers in Makati, or government officials crafting environmental policy.

This is the heart of what we call an ecological footprint—a measure of how much land, sea, and resources are required to support your daily life: the food you eat, the clothes you wear, the electricity you use, the garbage you throw, and even the air you breathe. It’s about your share of Earth. Your “footprint” shows how much space the planet needs to give you what you consume and absorb what you discard.

If you’re eating a bowl of rice, biking to school, and turning off unused lights at home—your footprint is modest. But if you’re driving alone in a car, leaving the air conditioner on all day, eating meat three times daily, or frequently flying for leisure—your ecological debt grows larger. Much larger than the space you physically occupy.

On average, scientists say the planet can only sustainably provide 1.8 hectares per person. But the global average consumption is about 2.0 hectares. That may sound small—but it’s already a problem. It means we are overusing the Earth’s resources. We’re borrowing from future generations. And sadly, we’re not paying back.

In my case, I tried a simple online quiz that calculates your ecological footprint based on your habits. I thought I was doing well—I eat more vegetables than meat, I recycle, and I often use public transport. But then the quiz asked about air travel. That’s when my score jumped. As someone who travels frequently for academic conferences, national consultations, and governance work, I realized that flying—even for good causes—burns a lot of carbon. Each round-trip flight can consume as much as 1 to 3 hectares worth of ecological space per person.

When the results came in, my ecological footprint was estimated at 14 hectares. I sat there, humbled. That’s 14 hectares of Earth working hard just to sustain my lifestyle.

But what does 14 hectares even look like? That’s about 140,000 square meters. Imagine a large school campus, several barangays, or a whole subdivision—all dedicated just to support one person. Multiply that by millions, and you begin to understand why we are experiencing climate change, biodiversity loss, water shortages, and food insecurity.

Let’s look around the world. In some countries like the UAE, each person uses over 10 hectares on average. In the U.S., about 9.7. Canada and Australia are close behind. Meanwhile, in countries like Bangladesh, Cambodia, and Somalia, people survive on less than 0.6 hectares.

The Philippines, on paper, averages about 1.0 hectare per person. That sounds reasonable. But here’s the problem: with our growing population, urban expansion, pollution, and land conversion, our available ecological capacity is only 0.6 hectare per person. That’s a deficit of 0.4 hectare each. And we’re already seeing the consequences—landslides in mountain towns, floods in urban centers, coral bleaching in our seas, fish kills in lakes, and extreme heat that our elders and children suffer most.

Nature is no longer absorbing our habits. It’s reacting to them.

You might say, “But Doc John, I’m just one person—how can I make a difference?”

Let me answer with a story.

I once visited a fishing community in Batangas. One father told me, “Sir, kahit anim na oras kami sa dagat, halos wala nang nahuhuli.” I looked at his net—small fish, barely enough for dinner. They weren’t overfishing because they were greedy. They were desperate. The fish no longer had time to grow. The sea could no longer recover from human demand. Our oceans are struggling because we are not giving them rest.

Our cities are another story. In Metro Manila, modern conveniences are abundant—but at what cost? We consume electricity, import fuel, process thousands of tons of garbage daily, and build on lands that used to be rice fields or forests. And where do these resources come from? Usually from the provinces. Meanwhile, the environmental burden—pollution, health hazards, flooding—hits the poorest communities hardest.

That’s why understanding our ecological footprint isn’t just about the environment—it’s also about justice. One wealthy household can consume more electricity and water than an entire rural barangay. That’s not just unsustainable—it’s unfair.

But here’s the good news: we can reduce our ecological footprint. We can make better choices—both individually and collectively.

Start with food. Eating more locally grown fruits, vegetables, and rice reduces your impact significantly. Try to limit red meat, which takes up massive land and water resources to produce.

At home, switch off lights when not in use. Use fans instead of air conditioning. Collect rainwater. Plant native trees. Support local products. These may seem small, but they add up—especially when practiced by millions.

Transportation is a big one. Walk if you can. Bike if it’s safe. Use public transportation whenever possible. Advocate for better sidewalks, bike lanes, and cleaner mass transit. Climate action is not just personal—it’s political.

And yes, be mindful of air travel. When it’s necessary, find ways to offset it. Some organizations offer carbon-offset programs that plant trees or fund renewable energy for every flight taken.

The real shift happens when we reframe our thinking. The Earth doesn’t exist to serve us endlessly. We are part of it—not above it. We are not its owners. We are stewards. The forests, rivers, and oceans that we pollute are the same systems that give us life.

So, I ask you again:

How many hectares of land and sea does it take to carry you?

Know your number. Reflect on it. Then act. Not out of guilt—but out of love for this country, for your family, and for the generations that will walk these lands after us.

Let’s make our footprints lighter. Let’s give the Earth—and each other—room to breathe.

 

On Environmental Degradation

By Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope

I remember waking up as a child to the sound of birds chirping in the trees outside our small house. The mornings were cool, and the rivers nearby flowed clearly. You could sit under a tree and smell the sweet scent of fresh grass. That was a long time ago. Now, when I walk around many parts of the city—or even some provinces—I no longer hear those birds. The rivers are brown, the air is hot even before noon, and plastic wraps itself around everything like a second skin we can’t remove.

Something is wrong.

That “something” has a name. We call it environmental degradation—but don’t worry, I won’t fill this essay with complex definitions or scientific jargon. Let’s talk about it like people—like stewards of this earth who’ve forgotten a bit about how to take care of our home.

What Is Environmental Degradation?

In the simplest terms, environmental degradation is what happens when we damage nature—when the land, air, water, and all living things are harmed by human actions. It’s the slow breaking down of the earth’s natural resources. It’s like scratching a wound until it never heals.

Imagine your own home. If you keep throwing garbage in the living room, never fix broken pipes, and burn things inside, soon enough you won’t want to live there anymore. That’s what we’re doing to our planet. We’re poisoning the soil, heating the air, drying up rivers, cutting down forests, and filling oceans with plastic.

And here’s the truth: Earth is our only home. We have nowhere else to go.

How Did It Start?

It didn’t happen overnight. At first, it was small—cutting a few trees, dumping a bit of waste, burning a little coal. But it kept growing. Factories were built. Cities expanded. Mountains were mined. And soon, the planet couldn’t keep up.

We started taking more than we gave back. We acted like Earth’s resources were endless. We thought nature would forgive us, no matter how much we hurt it.

But now, it’s speaking—and not in whispers anymore. Flash floods, rising heat, stronger typhoons, landslides, food shortages, dirty air—these are the Earth’s way of crying out.

What Are the Main Causes?

Let’s simplify it into five main problems:

1. Deforestation – Cutting trees faster than we plant them. Forests give us oxygen, shade, food, and protection from floods. Without trees, landslides happen, and animals lose their homes.

2. Pollution – Throwing garbage everywhere: on the streets, rivers, seas. Burning plastics. Dumping chemicals into water. The air becomes thick, the water undrinkable, and the land infertile.

3. Overpopulation and Overuse – More people means more consumption—more food, more land, more energy. But the Earth has limits. If we keep taking, one day there will be nothing left.

4. Mining and Industrial Activities – These give us materials to build things, but if done irresponsibly, they destroy entire mountains, poison rivers, and leave scars on the earth that may never heal.

5. Climate Change – Caused by too much greenhouse gases from cars, factories, and coal. It makes the planet hotter, melts ice in the poles, and causes irregular weather patterns.

How Does It Affect Us?

You may think, “I’m just one person. How does this affect me?”

The answer is—in every way possible.

• Our Health – Breathing polluted air leads to asthma, heart disease, and even cancer. Drinking dirty water causes stomach problems and deadly diseases.

• Our Food – When the soil is weak, crops don’t grow. When the seas are dirty, fish die. Farmers and fishermen suffer first. We suffer next—through higher prices and food shortage.

• Our Homes – Natural disasters are becoming more violent. Flash floods in areas that never used to flood. Typhoons breaking roofs. Landslides burying lives. That’s environmental degradation at our doorstep.

• Our Future – If we destroy nature now, the next generations—our children and grandchildren—will inherit a broken world. They won’t have the same beauty, resources, or safety that we once enjoyed.

What Can We Do?

Sometimes, when the problem seems too big, we feel small and helpless. But we are not powerless. Change begins with awareness, then action—no matter how small.

Here are some practical, doable things:

1. Plant and protect trees – Not just in tree-planting ceremonies. Protect existing forests. Support reforestation. Even growing plants in small spaces helps the air.

2. Avoid plastic – Use eco-bags. Say no to plastic straws and cups. Bring your own containers. Support stores that promote refillable or zero-waste systems.

3. Dispose of waste properly – Segregate garbage. Learn composting. Don’t litter—because every piece of trash has a price.

4. Conserve energy and water – Turn off lights when not needed. Fix leaking faucets. Use electric fans instead of air conditioning when possible. These simple acts reduce your environmental footprint.

5. Support clean energy and local produce – Solar, wind, and hydro power are better alternatives. Buying local reduces transport pollution. Plus, it helps small farmers.

6. Educate and advocate – Talk to your children. Join community efforts. Support policies and leaders who prioritize the environment.

7. Walk the talk – People don’t change from lectures. They change from examples. Let your habits inspire others.

A Final Reflection: Nature Is Not Our Enemy

We often treat nature like an enemy we must conquer. We build over it, destroy it, extract from it—as if it owes us something. But the truth is, we owe nature everything. It provides us life.

Environmental degradation is not just an ecological issue—it’s a human issue. It reflects how we live, what we value, and how we relate to each other and the Earth. A dying planet is a dying humanity.

But there’s still time.

If we shift our hearts, not just our habits—if we see the Earth not as a resource, but as a living home—we can still heal what has been broken. The birds may sing again. The rivers may flow clear. The air may be light on our skin, and the trees may once again tell stories in the wind.

But it starts with us. Today. We must take one step at a time.

Let us not wait for the Earth to scream. Let us act while it still whispers.

 

Veneration Without Understanding : A Book Review

A Book Review

by 

Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope
Founder and National President
1st Philippine Pro-Democracy Foundation

Reading a book involves more than just flipping through the pages; it involves engaging in a dialogue with the author, questioning their ideas, discovering aspects of ourselves within the story, and occasionally, confronting truths we frequently overlook. In this review, as an advocate and mover of a progressive, responsible, and organized democracy, Renato Constantino's "Veneration Without Understanding" offers a powerful and provocative re-evaluation of José Rizal, the Philippines' national hero. It challenges the conventional, almost hagiographic, portrayal of Rizal as a flawless and undisputed symbol of the Filipino struggle for freedom. Instead, Constantino presents a more nuanced and, arguably, more humanized view of the man, positioning him as a product of his specific historical context—the educated, Spanish-speaking elite known as the ilustrados.

Constantino's central argument is that the Philippines' veneration of Rizal is often "without understanding," a blind adoration that glosses over his most significant contradiction: his outright repudiation of the Philippine Revolution led by Andres Bonifacio. He highlights Rizal's own words from his December 15, 1896, manifesto, where he condemns the uprising, calling its methods "criminal" and disclaiming any part in it. This is a stark and uncomfortable truth that many Filipinos choose to ignore, as it creates a dilemma: was the revolution wrong, or was Rizal wrong?

The paper further argues that this uncritical reverence for Rizal was not an accident but a deliberate act of American colonial policy. Constantino explains how American officials, led by Governor William Howard Taft, actively sponsored Rizal as the national hero. The reasoning was simple and strategic: Rizal was "safely dead," and, more importantly, he was a reformer, not a revolutionary. He advocated for reforms "from within" and never for armed independence. By elevating Rizal, the Americans could conveniently sideline other, more militant heroes like Bonifacio and Emilio Aguinaldo, whose revolutionary ideals posed a direct threat to American rule. This sponsorship helped to shape a hero who fit the American narrative of a gradual, peaceful transition to self-government, rather than a hero who embodied the radical, armed struggle for complete independence.

This analysis forces us to confront the uncomfortable reality that our national hero, chosen in part by our colonizers, embodies a spirit of gradualism and reform rather than the radical, revolutionary fervor that ultimately secured our independence. Constantino's critique, however, is not an attempt to diminish Rizal's greatness. Rather, it is a call to view him with historical clarity. Rizal's life and works, particularly his novels, were instrumental in awakening a sense of national consciousness and identity among Filipinos. He was a hero in his time, a "catalyzer" of the nationalist movement, who helped to transform the derogatory term "indio" into the proud name of "Filipino."

However, Constantino insists that Rizal's heroism was "limited." His ilustrado background meant that his class and cultural upbringing constrained his vision. He held the belief that one must earn freedom through education and industry, not as an inherent right that revolution could seize. Despite his love for his country, he ultimately feared the violence of the very people he aimed to uplift. The fact that the revolution continued after his death, despite his opposition, demonstrates the truth of his belief. The work proves that while Rizal was a powerful individual, he was not the sole determinant of history; rather, he was a product of the historical forces of his time. Bonifacio led the people themselves, who were the "true makers of their history."

In the end, Constantino's paper critiques a national consciousness that colonial influence and a lack of critical self-reflection have stunted. He argues that the uncritical veneration of Rizal has prevented us from fully embracing the revolutionary spirit of Bonifacio and the Katipunan, which represents the true culmination of the anti-colonial struggle. Constantino challenges us to move beyond a "limited" view of Filipino nationhood—one defined by the Hispanized elite—and to embrace a concept of a true Filipino who is actively engaged in decolonization and the pursuit of genuine independence.

The paper concludes with a powerful call for intellectual liberation. By re-evaluating Rizal's role and acknowledging his limitations, we free ourselves from the intellectual timidity of constantly seeking sanctions from the past. We can then produce new heroes who are capable of addressing the complex problems of our present, heroes who are "one with the masses" and who embody the creative energies of a people striving for genuine liberation.