Not all progress is worth the price

By Chantal Jade V. Tolores

For once, a local government dared to call a bluff.

The Aklan provincial government’s rejection of the proposed ₱7.9-billion Boracay bridge project is a moral stand against a model of “development” that too often equates cement with progress and silence with consent.

Let’s be blunt, Boracay doesn’t need another invasion disguised as development. We’ve been here before and already paid the price of careless development.

For decades, the island has been the crown jewel of Philippine tourism. After the island’s 2018 closure and rehabilitation, it was a “cesspool” from years of over-tourism, weak regulation, and unchecked greed. Yet here we are, barely seven years later, debating another grand project that risks undoing everything painstakingly restored.

The proposed bridge, spearheaded by the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) in partnership with San Miguel Holdings Corporation, promised a sleek connection between Caticlan in mainland Malay and Barangay Manoc-Manoc in Boracay.

Its proponents spoke of convenience, investment, and “modernization.” But what the project’s glossy renderings don’t show is what that connection really means—permanent severing of the balance between access and preservation.

Once a bridge is built, you cannot unbuild the flood of people, waste, traffic, and greed that will inevitably follow. Let’s not kid ourselves, this is not about helping locals get to the mainland faster. This is about making Boracay easier to exploit.

That bridge is a gateway, not for the people, but for profit. Aklan’s rejection, then, is rightly so. And environmentally speaking, the bridge is an ecological gamble. The construction alone—dredging, piling, and concrete intrusion into the seabed—poses irreversible harm to coral reefs, seagrass beds, and marine biodiversity. The irony is brutal. We just spent billions rehabilitating Boracay, only to consider building a project that could destroy its recovery. If Boracay collapses under overdevelopment, it won’t be the developers, investors, and big business who’ll suffer—it will be the fisherfolk, the boatmen, and the locals whose lives are stitched to the tides. It’s easy to romanticize progress when you don’t have to breathe its pollution.

Supporters say the bridge will bring “inclusive growth.” But inclusion is meaningless if the people most affected aren’t invited to the table. Some argue, “But it will bring progress,” progress for whom? The small bangkeros who will lose their jobs because a bridge made their service obsolete?

The vendors whose daily sales depend on port passengers? The local guides who will be sidelined once tourists zip straight across without even stopping at Caticlan?

So yes, the Aklan government’s decision was bold. Putting the island’s welfare above the illusion of progress is necessary.

Real development strengthens local economies, not replacing them with corporate monopolies. It’s when leaders recognize that the value of an island lies not in how easily it can be reached, but in how wisely it can be preserved.

These are the kinds of discipline that are often forgotten when blinded by big-ticket projects and private partnerships. If anything, this should empower local governments everywhere.

Not all progress is worth the price, and not every road to prosperity needs to be paved. Sometimes, the wisest thing a government can build is a barrier strong enough to protect its home.