Category: Business Mirror

Vitamin fortification just gets interesting in the Philippines. Now it is vinegar that has been fortified with iron-to increase the chance of more Filipinos getting the needed daily iron mineral requirement.

The aim to fight the prevalence of micronutrient deficiencies in the country has led to adding fortification in vinegar, the Department of Science and Technology-Food and Nutrition Research Institute (DOST-FNRI).

According to Maricar D. Albao, a science research specialist from DOST-FNRI, researchers have been developing various technologies such as Iron-Fortified Rice (IFR), Micronutrient Growth Mix (MGM), Tubig Talino, and Rice-Mongo Curls.

Despite efforts, the prevalence of anemia persists, particularly among vulnerable groups, and so the fortification went also into condiments in partnership with a nongovernment organization, New Pathways Enterprise.

Albao said this vinegar contains 30 percent of the recommended iron intake for adults aged 19 to 29 years old.

‘Its iron content remains stable until the end of its shelf life, which is at least 12 months. Even when used to cook favorite Filipino dishes like adobo, kinilaw [fish ceviche], or paksiw na bangus [milkfish stewed in vinegar], the iron content remains at 30 percent. We also do not need to worry about iron overdose or reaching toxicity levels, even if we frequently consume dishes prepared with vinegar,’ she said.

The formulation underwent rigorous study to strike a balance between taste and consumer safety. It is also free from aflatoxin (a group of poisonous chemicals produced by certain molds that grow on food crops) and heavy metal contaminants.

Albao said each 15-gram serving, which is equivalent to one tablespoon, provides 35 percent of an adult’s daily iron requirement.

For iron content in various dishes, a 100-gram serving of chicken adobo provides 37 percent of the daily requirement for adults, while paksiw na bangus provides 38 percent.

Vinegar not only helps address iron deficiency, she said, but also offers a solution to food waste since it is made from coconut water.

Albao cited that an estimated 9.3 billion liters of coconut water are wasted annually during copra processing. This number can be compared to 3.5 times the size of the Philippine Arena.

Based on the 2023 National Nutrition Survey of the DOST-FNRI, iron deficiency anemia affects 21.8 percent or one in every five pregnant women, while 11.4 percent, or one in every 10 children under the age of 5, also suffer from this condition; thus, the need to provide healthier food alternatives for Filipinos.

‘From then until now, the DOST-FNRI has been your partner in the fight against malnutrition. One of our agency’s primary responses to micronutrient deficiencies is the food fortification strategy,’ she said.

She further explained that these health and food waste issues can be turned into business opportunities through the development of iron-fortified vinegar. In fact, this food technology is waiting for its potential adopters.

‘Based on our feasibility study, which factors in research and documentation, costs and a production volume of 5,500 units per month, each 300 ml bottle can be sold for P62.60. We could further lower the price by sourcing raw materials and packaging from various suppliers at a lower cost without compromising quality,’ Albao said.

In terms of production, the primary requirements are the DOST-ITDI-developed Acetator Kit, a 200-liter fermentation vessel, an air compressor, and other auxiliary tools that a production company may already have. The total equipment cost is only P47,000, and at least two production personnel are required.

The FeNRI Suka iron-fortified spiced coconut water vinegar is among the new food technologies launched during the NOURISH program, or the Nurturing Opportunities for Upscaling Research and Innovation in Support for Healthier Filipinos virtual presentation.

The Philippines’ Hot Wheels collector community shifted into high gear yesterday as the 2026 Philippines Hot Wheels Collectors Convention officially opened at the Crystal Pavilion, Okada Manila, bringing together passionate collectors, automotive enthusiasts, families, and fans for an even bigger celebration of everything Hot Wheels.

Building on the success and learnings from previous conventions with Richprime Global Inc. and Metrics, this year’s gathering delivered a more immersive experience-blending the world of die-cast collecting with real automotive culture, interactive play, exclusive displays, and new brand experiences.

Where Die-Cast Meets Real Cars

One of the biggest attractions at this year’s convention was the impressive collection of full-size Hot Wheels-inspired vehicles, giving collectors the opportunity to see their favorite automotive designs brought to life beyond the 1:64 scale.

Among the highlights was the striking Nissan Skyline GT-R-inspired Hot Wheels 1:1 car display, featuring this year’s official Hot Wheels convention which are limited only to Malaysia, Australia, Philippines, China, Singapore and Indonesia serving as a centerpiece for photo opportunities. A lineup of customized and enthusiast-owned vehicles from Decal Republic also added an authentic automotive atmosphere to the convention floor.

The showcase reinforced Hot Wheels’ long-standing connection between miniature cars, car culture, racing, and the creativity of automotive enthusiasts.

First-to-Launch Experiences Take Center Stage

The 2026 convention also introduced exciting new experiences to the Philippine market, including the first-to-launch Mattel Brick Shop, combining the world of building and collecting with Hot Wheels’ iconic automotive designs.

The convention floor also featured a dedicated Hot Wheels Let’s Race interactive area, transforming the venue into a colorful racing playground. Guests could enjoy track-based activities, race their cars, explore themed displays, and immerse themselves in the world of Hot Wheels Let’s Race which is one of the top kids’ animation content in Netflix.

From large-scale installations to detailed product displays, the experience was designed to give both longtime collectors and younger fans something to discover.

7-Eleven Joins the Ride

Adding another milestone to this year’s convention was the participation of 7-Eleven Philippines, which joined as an official partner of the 2026 Philippines Hot Wheels Collectors Convention.

The partnership brought the Hot Wheels and 7-Eleven collaboration to life through a dedicated showcase featuring a life-size Hot Wheels-inspired vehicle, connecting the miniature cars that collectors know and love with a full-scale automotive experience.

Meeting the Designer Behind the Cars

Adding to the excitement was the opportunity for collectors to meet and interact with Brendon Vestuskey, Hot Wheels Lead designer, giving fans a closer look at the creative minds behind the cars they collect.

The designer signing and sketching session provided collectors with a memorable opportunity to have their items signed and receive personalized artwork-turning already treasured collectibles into even more meaningful keepsakes.

A Thriving Collector Marketplace

The collector spirit continued throughout the convention floor, where attendees explored tables filled with an extensive assortment of Hot Wheels cars, rare finds, sought-after releases, and collectibles.

The marketplace gave collectors an opportunity to buy, sell, trade, hunt for hard-to-find pieces, and connect with fellow enthusiasts, reinforcing the strong and growing collector community in the Philippines.

For many attendees, the thrill of the hunt was just as important as the convention’s major attractions.

The 2026 Philippines Hot Wheels Collectors Convention represents the continued growth of Hot Wheels culture in the country-evolving from a gathering centered on die-cast cars into a multi-dimensional celebration of cars, collecting, racing, creativity, and community.

With its combination of full-size automotive displays, immersive installations, interactive play experiences, exclusive collectibles, and brand partnerships, the 2026 edition demonstrates how Hot Wheels continues to bring generations of fans together.

The convention continues today, September 6, at Crystal Pavilion, Okada Manila, giving collectors and fans another opportunity to experience the displays, activities, and attractions prepared for this year’s celebration.

What do you get when a band raised on Filipino horror stories, folklore, emo-era song titles, and a love for musical experimentation takes over one of Manila’s most historic theaters?

For fitterkarma (stylized in all lowercase), the answer comes on September 19 at The Metropolitan Theatre.

The four-piece alternative band, composed of Joao de Leon, Sophia Miranda, Sanders Bayas, and Mikee ‘Lory’ Mendoza, will stage its first major solo concert, ‘kung tayo’y nasa isang horror na pelikula, tiyak ako ang una mong papatayin,’ where it will perform its debut full-length album in its entirety.

The show will also feature expanded stage design, concert-only arrangements, and a live collaboration with the Manila String Machine.

For fitterkarma, it is a chance to present the album as it was meant to be heard: not as a collection of singles, but as one long, evolving experience.

Where the songs become a world

For Joao, there is a certain magic to listening to an album from beginning to end.

‘I personally find the magic in listening to an album as a whole. It’s like a movie-it has a beginning, a climactic part, and an ending,’ he said during a recent roundtable with BusinessMirror’s SoundStrip and other media organizations.

That was the mindset fitterkarma brought into making its debut full-length record. Rather than focusing on which songs could become hits, the band paid attention to how each track would sound and feel as part of the whole.

‘Perhaps we focused less on the storyline and more on the sonic feelings of each track,’ Lory said. ‘Usually, albums now are structured around songs that could potentially become hits. But that wasn’t our focus. We were more concerned with the overall progression of how the album would sound and feel.’

The band said the album gave them more time and space to explore a wider range of sounds than they could within individual singles.

That wider musical palette will be heard live at the Metropolitan Theatre, with Manila String Machine joining the band onstage for the first time.

The strings were already part of the album’s recordings, but having them performed live changes how fitterkarma imagines the songs in concert.

‘Having them live gives the songs more life when we perform them,’ Joao said. ‘That’s the power of an orchestra. It’s so dynamic, so expressive.’

The horror at the heart of fitterkarma’s identity did not begin with the concert.

For Joao, it goes back to growing up with stories, movies, and television programs that scared him as a child. Filipino horror and folklore, in particular, became a recurring influence on his writing.

‘Most of them are somewhat inspired by horror and folklore drawn from Filipino culture. I believe horror and folklore are rich parts of our culture,’ he said.

Growing up, Joao said he heard plenty of stories from relatives and watched programs and documentaries known for their horror themes. His interest in horror films also started early.

Those influences eventually found their way into fitterkarma’s music and visual identity.

The concert title itself reflects that fascination while also paying homage to a particular era of alternative music.

Joao said its long, dramatic construction was inspired by the elaborate song and album titles associated with mid-2000s bands such as Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco, and Mayday Parade.

But the band does not want its listeners to approach its songs with a single prescribed interpretation.

‘I’m hoping the experience will be special for them. We also made it with room for listeners to have their own interpretations,’ Joao said.

He does not want to tell listeners exactly what a song means and leave no room for them to find their own meaning, he added.

A room for the unexpected

Fitterkarma has already experienced the kind of success that can create pressure for a young band.

‘Pag-ibig ay Kanibalismo II,’ which began as part of Joao’s thesis project, became one of the band’s breakthrough songs. Other songs from that batch also eventually became part of its catalog.

But the attention did not fundamentally change how the members approach songwriting.

‘It didn’t affect the flow or our creativity,’ Joao said. ‘Because if we were going to think about what people would think while making those two songs, we might as well not have worked on them at all if they weren’t true to who we are.’

Rather than recreate the formula behind their earlier successes, fitterkarma continues to explore.

The members said the new album contains different sounds, textures, genres and combinations, while older songs remain part of the record. Some of the material was written years apart, giving the album a way to trace the band’s growth.

The band is also holding on to something it considers essential to its music: human expression.

For Joao, that is something AI cannot replace.

Twenty-five years after September 11, the 9/11 Memorial and Museum is preparing to mark the anniversary with a new exhibition and a nationwide educational push aimed at Americans who have no memory of the attacks. One name on the South Pool I have followed for 18 of the 25 years.

On Monday afternoon the Museum described the exhibition it is about to open on the 25th anniversary of the attacks. It is called In Their Honor: 25 Years of 9/11-Inspired Service.

Beth Hillman, the Museum’s president and chief executive, stood before a bank of cameras at a press briefing convened with the New York Foreign Press Center-the State Department’s Manhattan outpost for foreign media-and offered a figure that has come to define the anniversary. It felt, she joked at the top of her remarks, as though there were more cameras than people in the room. About 100 million Americans, she said, were either unborn on September 11, 2001, or too young to have registered what was happening. Each year, she said, the annual promise to never forget becomes both harder to keep and more necessary to renew. ‘As time moves forward,’ she said, ‘that battle becomes even more important.’ The Museum’s mission, Hillman said, is to commemorate the nearly 3,000 people killed that day, to educate a next generation of Americans about what happened and what has happened since, and to inspire all who visit with stories of courage and sacrifice. In a few weeks, she noted, that mission would return to the Memorial Plaza for the 25th time.

That mission takes physical form on September 12, when the Museum opens In Their Honor. Reporters on Monday were the first to walk its rooms. The exhibition, Hillman said, occupies a gallery inside the Museum and turns from the events of the day itself toward what followed: the volunteer surge, the enlistments, the nonprofits built around loss, the arts and educational institutions revived in the wake of the attacks.

Logan Miller, a 9/11 family member and a member of the Museum’s Visionary Leadership Council, spoke next. In 2001, he said, he was a second grader in Bayside, Queens, more concerned with snack time than with the news drifting down the hallway outside his classroom. His teacher stepped into the hallway to talk with the other teachers, he recalled, and, one by one, his classmates were picked up by their parents. By late morning, a class of 25 had shrunk to two or three. Around one o’clock, his father arrived and told him there had been a terrible attack in the city, and that the World Trade Center had fallen. At eight years old, he fixated on one question: how does a building fall?

His uncle, an EMT and a senior court officer at the New York State Supreme Court, working just blocks from the World Trade Center, had gotten off the subway at Canal Street that morning and reached the courthouse before the first plane struck. He and more than two dozen fellow court officers made the decision to leave the courthouse and walk toward the towers. A photographer for the New York Post captured him at a makeshift triage on Church Street, bandaging the arm of a woman with severe burns before she was loaded into an ambulance. Then he and several other officers went back into the tower to look for survivors. They found another woman. One of the officers took her to safety; walking out, he saw Miller’s uncle and two other court officers for the last time. Moments later, the South Tower fell.

The man Miller called his grandfather-his father’s uncle-worked near Ground Zero in the weeks after the towers came down, after residents were told it was safe to return to Lower Manhattan. He breathed the dust and the toxic air that continued to linger there. Years later, Miller said, he developed leukemia and died in 2016, exactly 15 years after the attacks.

‘The consequences of 9/11 did not end on September 11, 2001,’ Miller told the room. They kept unfolding, he said-through the first responders, the ordinary New Yorkers who ran toward danger when everyone else was running away, and the people who, years later, became sick because of what they had breathed. He also thought, he said, about the countless people who looked at what happened that day and decided to do something because of it: to serve, to rebuild, to help people they had never met. Many of them, he said, had spent the last 25 years doing exactly that.

Twenty-five years later, Miller said, there is an entire generation with no memory of what happened. The responsibility now, he said, is no longer only about remembering what happened, but about remembering that there is a generation that does not know what happened. Remembering them, he said, in their honor.

For the first time this year, the annual ceremony on the Memorial Plaza will include a seventh moment of silence, Hillman said, in tribute to those who have since died from illness and injury caused by exposure to the toxic aftermath of the attacks. A live prime-time special with ABC News, featuring musical performances, will air on the evening of September 11. Throughout the season, she added, the Museum will run a nationwide educational effort centered on a digital learning experience that classrooms across the country can access. The Museum has also invited journalists from around the world-many of whom, she noted, are themselves part of the 9/11 story-to share their own accounts with the institution.

Three of the Filipino victims I have come to know in the years since are on the parapets of the same Memorial. Cesar Amoranto Alviar, 60, an accountant at Marsh and McLennan, worked on the 94th floor of the North Tower; his name is inscribed on panel N-16. Grace Alegre Cua, 40, a native of Infanta, Quezon, had been at Chuo Mitsui Trust for fourteen years; her name is on panel S-39. Benilda Pascua Domingo, 37, from Barangay Sta. Maria in Laoag City, had come to the United States the year before the attacks-her visa finally through after a 14-year wait to bring her family-and had just begun planning her wedding. Her name is on panel S-37.

Noah Rauch, the Museum’s senior vice president for education and public programs, has spent more than a decade watching a line move across American classrooms-the line, he said, between memory and history. He described it as a widening gap between those who remember the attacks and those who do not. For roughly 100 million Americans, he said, September 11 is no longer a lived event; it is a subject. That, he said, gives the 25th anniversary particular weight-a chance to make sure the stories, the lessons, and the legacy captured in In Their Honor are preserved not just for this generation but for those that follow.

The Museum’s programs, Rauch said, have reached nearly 20 million students since the institution opened. Its Anniversary Digital Learning Experience-a 35-minute film paired with a live chat that lets students ask staff questions in real time throughout September 11-has drawn more than 5 million student participants over the years, underwritten, he noted, by the New York Life Foundation. On-site and virtual field trips for grades 3 through 12 remain free to all tri-state schools, funded, he said, by the Will Family Foundation, Barbara and H. Rajan Cohen, and the New York City Council. Professional-development seminars help teachers-many of them now part of that 100 million with no memory of their own-teach a subject that, Rauch acknowledged, is not easy to teach. The job, he said, is to give educators the content and the strategies to help students connect to what happened, whom it happened to, and how people responded in extraordinary ways.

Hillman closed by returning to what she called the spirit of September 12, when people of different backgrounds and ideologies, she said, came together in patriotism and unity. That spirit, she said, is what the Museum hopes to carry into its next quarter-century-alongside a solemn commemoration that honors the dead, pays tribute to the heroes of the day, and provides comfort to families and survivors.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was on my way to work in Manhattan, riding a cab down Lexington after getting off the 6 train at 51st Street. By the time I reached the hospital where I work, the first plane had already struck the North Tower. By the time I got to my office on the 16th floor, the second plane had hit the South Tower. The secretaries were already crying. One of our administrators had a fiancé at Cantor Fitzgerald.

That afternoon, I walked home to Queens across the 59th Street Bridge. Cell service was down across the city; only text messages went through, and only sometimes. I was carrying a Nikon Coolpix 995. From the bridge, I took a photograph of Lower Manhattan.

Seven years after the attacks, I saw Rudy Abad in a YouTube video, describing what he had done in his wife’s memory in the Philippines. I have been following the story since. One of the names on the Memorial is inscribed on panel S-34 of the South Pool.

The Memorial arranges its names not alphabetically but by what it calls ‘meaningful adjacency’-the people who were standing next to whom that morning. Close to 3,000 names have been cut into bronze around the two pools; each can be located by a panel number, N or S, followed by a number from 1 to 76. S-34 belongs to Marie Rose Abad.

She was 49, a senior executive at the investment bank Keefe, Bruyette and Woods. She was born in New York, the daughter of an Italian immigrant family. She had survived the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center-walked down 110 stories then. She did not survive the second attempt. She was in her 89th-floor office when the second plane struck below her. In her final phone call to her home on Long Island, she told her husband, Rudy Abad, that it was too hot, that this might be the last time she spoke to him. Her last words to him, he later recalled, were: ‘Ru, pray, pray.’

Rudy Abad was born in Manila. He left the Philippines in 1963 to study in the United States and eventually became an American citizen. His wife had told him she wanted, one day, to help the poor in his country of origin. In 2004, three years after her death, he funded the construction of about 50 one-story houses on the site of a slum in Manila’s Tondo district. It is named Marie Rose Abad GK Village. I have followed the village since-the children on its alleys, the brightly colored homes, the street sign at the entrance bearing the name of a woman who never lived to see it.

Critically acclaimed director Woo Minho brings the full force of his cinematic sensibilities to the second season of Made in Korea, his television debut on Disney+, a crime drama steeped in the institutional rot of 1970s South Korea.

The director behind Inside Men and The Man Standing Next has long been fascinated by the intersection of state power and human immorality, and moving from film to television has done little to diminish that ambition. If anything, Made in Korea gives Woo more room to examine the machinery of power from every angle.

At the center of this narrative is corrupt government official Baek Kitae, portrayed by Hyun Bin in a multifaceted performance that earned him two ‘Best Actor’ accolades. Baek Kitae is a senior official within the Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA), using his position as a front for a lucrative side enterprise trafficking meth directly into Japan. He is indubitably the villain of this story.

Interestingly, however, the narrative treats him as its protagonist. It is his perspective the audience inhabits as we witness his thought process, his humble origins, and his struggle for power. By Season 2, he has reached the upper echelons of the government, but his success has done little to satisfy him. Hyun Bin notes that Kitae remains insatiably ambitious and hungry for greater influence.

While Baek Kitae is hardly alone as a villainous protagonist in a crime drama, the audience does not root for him simply because of his tragic backstory. Made in Korea never asks the audience to sympathize. His past explains him, but it does not excuse him. He is not softened by a tragic childhood or given convenient moral loopholes. Instead, he is presented as a monster produced by an ugly world – and one who has learned to thrive within it.: Kitae is appalling, but he is also frighteningly competent, charismatic, and cool. The audience may despise what he does, yet it is impossible to look away.

Jung Woosung as Jang Geonyoung, the upstanding prosecutor whose strong sense of justice pushes him to uncover Baek Kitae’s illegal activities, is far less relatable. Perhaps by design. Where Kitae’s motivations are never in question, Geonyoung operates as an enigma whose idealism nobody truly understands. Not his family, not his colleagues, and certainly not the world. At the climax of the first season, he is jailed on false charges, seemingly crushed by the system he believed he could challenge. However, that is far from the last of him.

In Season 2, Geonyoung returns less like a conventional hero than a vengeful spirit haunting Kitae’s every step. Jung Woosung has described his character’s driving motivation as vengeance against Kitae, though Geonyoung mentally frames that vengeance as justice.

A new player in this duel is Kitae’s younger brother Baek Kihyun, played with vulnerability and edge by Woo Dohwan. Following his swift promotion within the military, Baek Kihyun has matured into an active player in the power struggle. Though Ki-tae continuously leverages their shared blood to manipulate Kihyun, the audience is never quite sure if he’s merely weaponizing familial obligations or if this is also a misguided attempt to protect his brother from the meat grinder of the higher levels of the state.

As Woo Dohwan has emphasized, his character’s deep love for his family ironically becomes the very force that drives him into conflict with his older brother. The more Kihyun attempts to protect what matters to him, the more directly he finds himself challenging the man who has spent years controlling the family’s destiny.

Meanwhile, Baek Soyeong, played by Cha Hee, admires and loves her older brother Kitae more than anyone, having witnessed how he worked himself to the bone to provide for their family. Still, that doesn’t stop her from making her own decisions. Cha Hee said that Soyeong’s personality has flipped 180 degrees in the nine years since Season 1, allowing us to see more dimensions of her character beyond her affection for her brother.

Perhaps the most compelling side character is Ikeda Yuji, played by Won Jian, who previously gained attention for her role in Squid Game Season 2. A prominent figure in the yakuza and Kitae’s primary ally in Japan, Yuji is no less power-hungry. Her position is made even more precarious by the discrimination she faces as both a woman and an ethnic Korean in Japan. Rather than allowing those circumstances to define her as a victim, however, the series uses them to sharpen her determination to seize power on her own terms. Season 2 gives Yuji considerably more screen time and fight sequences. In preparation for this, Won Jian worked extensively with director Woo Minho to build Yuji’s character, particularly her willingness to cross almost any boundary in pursuit of power.

That pragmatism is ultimately what connects Made in Korea’s sprawling cast. Whether they are driven by greed, justice, family, or survival, the characters exist within a political environment where morality is constantly tested against necessity.

Where many contemporary period dramas fall flat is in their setting, treating historical eras as mere window dressing where events and locations phase in and out depending on the needs of the plot. Made in Korea is aggressively grounded in the sociopolitical reality of 1970s South Korea, anchoring its major arcs around real-life historical events that reshaped the nation.

Season 1 opened against the backdrop of the 1970 hijacking of Japan Air Lines Flight 351. Season 2 moves into the political upheaval that followed the assassination of former President Park Chung-hee. These events are not merely historical landmarks inserted between fictional plot points; they actively shape the world the characters inhabit.

With these monumental events as its backdrop, the second season escalates both its narrative pace and its thematic severity. More than ever, the show does not pull punches when exposing the dark underbelly of the authoritarian state apparatus, diving into brutal and unsparing detail. The horror of Made in Korea stems not merely from individual villainy, but from the realization of how effortlessly an institution can turn human lives into pawns on the board.

Even from a purely technical perspective, Made in Korea holds its own. Woo Minho brings his full cinematic toolbox to the project – bold, stark lighting, sharp textures, and wide compositions emphasizing the enormity of the state compared with the individuals struggling to manipulate it.

That cinematic approach does come with a caveat. As Woo’s first television series, Made in Korea occasionally resists the rhythms viewers may expect from conventional episodic storytelling. Woo himself acknowledged that Season 1 could feel like a succession of individual feature films. Season 2, he said, is meant to flow more cohesively.

Made in Korea is not a series built for passive viewing. It demands attention. Its historical references, visual choices, and subtle changes in body language all contribute to the larger narrative. This is not the kind of show that comfortably fades into the background while the viewer tends to errands or chores.

At its best, Made in Korea is less interested in telling audiences who deserves their sympathy than in forcing them to confront how easily ideals become corrupted inside systems designed to reward power. Baek Kitae may be its most obvious monster, but the more unsettling implication is that he is not an aberration. He is the intended product of his environment.

Made in Korea Season 2 will premiere on Disney+ with Episodes 1 and 2 on September 9.

We pay an awful lot of attention to lawyers and politicians in this country, perhaps even more so these days, when an impeachment trial is being broadcast live and Filipinos are getting a crash course in constitutional law. We listen to lawyers argue, senators debate and politicians accuse one another.

That is fine. Democracy needs lawyers and government needs politicians. But the country needs scientists, too, especially when so many of the problems that will determine how we live in the years ahead-climate change, flooding, food and water security, energy, disease and affordable medicines-cannot be solved by politics alone.

My interest in this is admittedly personal. Both my children chose biology. My daughter Gabby, a DOST-SEI undergraduate merit scholar, graduated magna cum laude from the University of the Philippines Los Baños, where her undergraduate research included studying the ecological condition and microbial water quality of portions of the Molawin River exposed to human activity. She later worked on freshwater and marine ecological surveys for environmental impact assessments, studying fish, corals, seagrass and other marine life around proposed solar and industrial projects in different parts of the country.

My son Jacob, a De La Salle University Biology graduate who is finishing his master’s in Wildlife Science at UPLB, has done biodiversity fieldwork in Mindoro, surveying terrestrial vertebrates and the environmental conditions of their habitats.

Their work has given me a better appreciation of what science looks like outside the classroom. Someone has to test whether a river is polluted, establish what wildlife and marine life exist in an area before development alters it, determine what environmental damage a project might cause and recommend ways to reduce that damage. Decisions about development, conservation and public safety are better when they begin with evidence rather than assumptions.

Gabby is now pursuing her master’s in Environmental Science, major in Environmental Change and Sustainability, at Ca’ Foscari University of Venice on a scholarship from the Italian government. Watching both of them pursue careers in science has made me think more about how much-or how little-we invest in Filipino scientists.

Government does invest in them and deserves credit for that. Under the proposed 2027 national budget, the Department of Science and Technology is slated to receive P30.9 billion, including P8.67 billion for STEM scholarships expected to support more than 67,000 scholars. Billions more will go to research and development.

That sounds substantial until you remember that the proposed national budget is P7.2 trillion and compare us with countries that decided long ago that research and development are investments in their future.

The latest internationally comparable figures put Philippine spending on research and development at only around 0.3 percent of gross domestic product, compared with more than 1 percent in Thailand, around 1 percent in Malaysia and close to 2 percent in Singapore.

The difference becomes even more striking when you count researchers. The Philippines has only about 170 full-time-equivalent researchers for every one million people based on the latest internationally comparable Philippine data, compared with more than 700 in Vietnam, more than 1,800 in Thailand and more than 8,000 in Singapore.

The years covered by the available data differ among countries, so these are not perfect apples-to-apples comparisons. But the disparity is too large to dismiss. We are trying to compete in a world increasingly driven by science and technology with a remarkably small scientific workforce.

The problem starts long before scientists enter laboratories. In the 2022 Programme for International Student Assessment, only 23 percent of Filipino 15-year-olds reached at least the baseline level of proficiency in science, compared with 76 percent across OECD countries.

Consider flooding, a problem Filipinos certainly know something about.

Project NOAH was created after Tropical Storm Sendong devastated parts of Mindanao in 2011 and killed more than a thousand people. Filipino scientists subsequently developed high-resolution flood maps, rainfall and water-level monitoring systems, storm-surge models, landslide assessments and other tools intended to tell communities where disaster was likely to strike.

The original DOST-funded research program ended in 2017. DOST maintained that NOAH had been designed as a time-bound research program, its deliverables had been completed and its technologies were being transferred to agencies such as PAGASA, PHIVOLCS, NAMRIA and the Mines and Geosciences Bureau. UP nevertheless considered its scientific work important enough to preserve, and the UP Board of Regents adopted NOAH, which eventually became part of the UP Resilience Institute.

Nine years later, after billions upon billions of pesos have been poured into flood-control projects and Filipinos continue to wade through floods, the government has released P1 billion to UP to strengthen Project NOAH.

The funding will support artificial intelligence-enhanced flood modeling, real-time hazard monitoring, LiDAR mapping, data analytics and predictive flood forecasting. NOAH scientists can also use computer simulations to determine whether proposed flood-control interventions will actually work before government spends billions building them.

There is something almost painfully obvious about that idea. Instead of spending billions pouring concrete and discovering later that the floods remain, government can first spend a fraction of the amount on scientists who can tell us where the water will go and whether a proposed solution is likely to work.

The larger lesson from NOAH is that scientific capacity cannot always be treated as a project with an expiration date. Flood maps need updating as cities grow, rivers and drainage systems change and rainfall patterns are altered by climate change. It is not enough to fund the technology; we have to fund the scientists who keep improving it.

Covid gave us another reminder. Science gave us diagnostic tests, vaccines, genomic surveillance and treatments, while Filipino researchers developed a locally produced Covid-19 RT-PCR detection kit and helped track new variants through genomic sequencing. Nobody knew beforehand that Covid was coming, which is precisely why scientific capacity has to exist before an emergency arrives.

We already have examples of what Filipino scientists can accomplish. They are developing rice varieties better able to withstand drought and studying traditional Philippine rice varieties for traits that could produce more resilient and nutritious crops. DOST-supported technologies have turned seawater into drinking water for island communities, while government-supported research helped turn lagundi and sambong into standardized medicines familiar to millions of Filipinos.

This is the kind of science that directly affects ordinary lives, whether through the food we eat, the water we drink, the medicines we can afford or knowing which communities will be underwater when the next typhoon comes.

There is also the question of what happens to the young Filipinos we educate to become scientists. Scholarships are wonderful and we should provide many more of them, but a scholarship is only the beginning. Scientists need laboratories, equipment, research grants and, ultimately, careers that allow them to remain scientists without constantly wondering where the next grant or decent-paying job will come from.

Otherwise we educate them and somebody else benefits from their talent.

There is nothing wrong with Filipinos studying or working abroad. Science has always crossed borders. My own daughter is fortunate to have received a scholarship from the Italian government to pursue advanced environmental studies, and I am grateful that another country saw enough promise in a Filipino student to invest in her education.

But it inevitably raises a question for her own country: Are we willing to invest just as seriously in our young scientists?

The Philippines ranked 50th among 139 economies in the 2025 Global Innovation Index and, interestingly, ranked higher in innovation outputs than in innovation inputs. In simpler language, Filipinos appear to be producing more innovation than might be expected from the resources available to them. Imagine what they could do if we gave them more.

Congress will spend months arguing over where P7.2 trillion should go. Education, hospitals, roads, agriculture, defense and social services all have legitimate claims on public money. But science should not really be viewed as competing with all of them because better agricultural science improves food security, medical research improves health care, climate science improves disaster preparedness, engineering improves infrastructure and energy research can help produce cheaper and cleaner electricity.

Research can look like an expense until the day we desperately need what that research produced. That is why countries invest in scientific capacity before they know exactly when they will need it.

Meanwhile, we continue watching politicians, watching lawyers and following impeachment trials, elections and whatever political controversy comes next. Those things matter. But Filipino scientists are also working on questions that may ultimately matter much more: how to grow enough food in a hotter world, where the next flood will go, how to provide clean water and cheaper energy, how to make medicines more affordable and how this country can live with a climate that is already changing.

Science may not win elections and scientists seldom have billboards along Edsa. But their work can save lives, solve problems and save government billions by showing us what will work before we spend money on what won’t.

Advances in rice genomics, phenotyping, and bioinformatics for climate-resilient and nutritious rice varieties.

These were highlight during the Annual General Assembly of the ‘Philippine Rice Genomics and Bioinformatics for High-Yielding, Nutritious, and Climate-Resilient Rice’ program, reinforcing collaborative research efforts toward strengthening the country’s rice research and food security agenda.

Co-organized by the University of the Philippines Los Baños (UPLB) and the Department of Agriculture-Philippine Rice Research Institute (DA-PhilRice), the assembly gathered researchers and partner institutions under the 1,001 Rice Genome Program (1k1RGP) to assess the project accomplishments.

It also served as a platform to align ongoing initiatives with program targets, and strengthen collaborative directions in rice genomics and bioinformatics research.

Representing the Philippine Council for Agriculture, Aquatic, Natural Resources Research and Development of the Department of Science and Technology (DOST-PCAARRD), the Crops Research Division (CRD) participated in the discussions on advancing genomics-enabled rice breeding and capacity development opportunities.

Dr. Loida M. Perez of DA-PhilRice reported the progress in phenotyping the 1,001 Philippine Traditional Rice Varieties, including evaluation of traits associated with early maturing, herbicide tolerance, anaerobic germination tolerance, and nutrition-related traits including iron and zinc content on milled rice, low phytic acid levels, protein content and essential amino acids.

Results of the study will contribute to the genome-wide association studies (GWAS) aimed at identifying genomic regions linked to important agronomic and nutritional traits for rice breeding.

Meanwhile, Dr. Maria Genaleen Q. Diaz of UPLB presented key developments in the genomics and bioinformatics component of the program. Notable milestones include initial sequencing activities, protocol optimization, molecular evaluation, and database portal development for genomic information management.

Members of the Philippine-American Academy of Science and Engineering (PAASE) Scientific Advisory Board also shared expert insights and technical recommendations to strengthen program implementation.

Discussions emphasized harmonization of key technical terminologies, accessibility of digital sequence information, timely delivery of research outputs to stakeholders, particularly rice farmers, and continued investment in human resource development and talent retention.

Attending PAASE members include former DOST Secretary and Academician William G. Padolina, Dr. Giselle P. Concepcion of the University of the Philippines Diliman, Dr. Michael D. Purugganan of the New York University, Dr. Rod A. Wing of the University of Arizona, Dr. Rigoberto C. Advincula of the University of Tennessee-Knoxville, Dr. Maria Marjorette O. Peña of the University of South Carolina, and Dr. Gladys Cherisse J. Completo of UPLB.

CRD Director Leilani D. Pelegrina commended UPLB, DA-PhilRice, and partner agencies for their valuable contribution to advancing rice research in the country. She also reaffirmed the commitment of DOST-PCAARRD to extend its support in capacitating and providing opportunities to the talented researchers through the Graduate Research and Education Assistantship for Technology program.

The activity was also attended by the representatives from various partner institutions, including the International Rice Research Institute, International Maize and Wheat Improvement Center, National Rice Program of the Department of Agriculture, and several UPLB and UP Diliman research institutes.

Also in attendance from DOST-PCAARRD were Industry Strategic SandT Program Manager for Rice Alvin Quiel C. Sabanal and Technical Support Staff for Rice Thrina A. Lanip.

The vibrant motif in this unique Quezon City shop offers guests another level of awakening.

Motherland PH is branded as a collective store that sells world ethnic instruments, brands, crafts and workshops. Here, a sharp slap on the hand-drum by store owner Jason Gildore cuts through the room. It’s followed by a low and resonant bass that seems to settle somewhere beneath the surface of the ‘dyandi” percussion, Gildore’s own instrument creation that’s an ingenious modification of the djembe, a West African rope-tuned, skin-covered drum.

The beat comes from the heart and the soul-measured, like a prayer.

Gildore’s hands move masterfully, sharpened by years of repetition, as he leads a basic percussion session. He strikes the drum, pauses, then listens, before striking again, gently pressing the skin surface with his fingers, as if asking whether the instrument is ready to speak again.

Then, it was my turn.

‘Kindly hold it downward a bit, and try to follow me,’ Gildore, our instructor, said. ‘Slap it with your hands to produce a beat.’ My offbeat rhythm only made us laugh.

Life played a different beat

Long before there was a shop filled with instruments and training sessions, there was only a curious teenager from Davao.

‘At 17, I was just a normal kid,’ Gildore said. There was basketball and the ordinary distractions of adolescence. Music was not part of his formal education, and he never imagined himself becoming a professional percussionist.

Everything changed when he became active in the Redemptorist church in Davao City. Through youth gatherings and theater productions, he encountered the music of the legendary singer-songwriter/ cultural advocate Joey Ayala, along with the distinctive sounds of ethnic instruments. Instead of guitars, which he admitted never interested him, it was the kubing, bamboo flutes, rain sticks and other indigenous instruments woven into theatrical performances that caught his fancy.

‘I was looking for something meaningful and artistic in my life, probably something deeper,’ he said. Gildore was particularly fascinated by people who could create music without formal schooling-those who didn’t study, but were able to mimic sounds, even those by rain or wind, through instruments.

Gildore studied electrical technology for two years and considered pursuing engineering. Although he eventually abandoned that direction, the discipline of measuring, experimenting and solving problems stuck with him into instrument making. From Davao, he went to Manila, where his unusual combination of skills as a performer, arranger, craftsman and percussionist harmonized and crescendoed.

A friend allowed him to borrow a djembe, the African hand-drum, for a church rally. He knew the instrument’s value and took good care of it, only to be met by heavy rains, soaking the drumhead made of animal skin. The surface got drenched. Not long after, it began to smell. Eventually, it rotted.

Gildore could not afford to replace the drum outright, so he decided to repair it himself. ‘There was no YouTube yet,’ he said, laughing. ‘I really had to figure it out by myself.’

What followed was nearly a year of frustration, trying to fix the instrument on his own. He dismantled it, studied its construction, experimented with tension, and repeatedly hurt his hands while learning how to weave and stretch the drumhead.

Instead of calling attempts ‘failures,’ Gildore described those years with an engineer’s vocabulary: ‘Research and development.’

He kept going. The workshop became his laboratory, and music the experiment. Gildore’s persuasion paid off, as he learned how to work with animal skin, how to stretch it, how to balance tension, how to tune a drum, and how to make it strong enough to survive the hands of a professional performer.

Gildore found a part of himself in that tedious, painstaking process. He dedicated himself to creating more drums and learning more about music.

In 2006, he joined Prof. Edru Abraham and Kontra-Gapi, a musical ensemble connected with the University of the Philippines community, where he advanced as a professional performer. He realized it was not enough to know how to play. He had to learn the entire process, from the discipline to the timing to the responsibility of performing with other musicians.

His biggest takeaway from that intense training: ‘You have to have skills. You have to be professional.’

Birth of Motherland PH and a community that continues to grow

Gildore’s path would eventually cross with his musical hero, Joey Ayala, working with him as a percussionist. The opportunity also led him to meet more masters of indigenous instruments.

Aside from being a performer, Gildore became whatever the work demanded him to be, from arranger to stage manager and more. He was learning not only how to play an instrument, but how instruments could speak with one another and tell stories on their own.

They were on a roll. But when the pandemic hit, much like the rest of the world, the beat stopped. There were no gigs, no projects, nothing. He felt lost and wanted to come home to Davao.

Things turned when a friend advised him to market his expertise in drum-making on social media to create a brand. He would post videos of himself making drums from scratch and playing afterwards. He found the exercise therapeutic, as his following grew steadily. Before long, Gildore was teaching basic drum lessons, which led to the creation of a local djembe community called AdingKra.

He also started his own band, Anima Tierra. Their music can involve numerous instruments, sometimes as many as 11 in a piece. They already recorded three songs and have more in the wings. The band used to have eight regular members, and now they have four, as the rest come and go.

Together with some of his bandmates, friends, and new business partners, Gildore opened Motherland PH inside Z Compound in Malingap St., Teachers Village in Quezon City.

The space represents nearly everything that has shaped Gildore’s life. There are handcrafted percussion instruments and musical accessories alongside tribal and ethnic ornaments, jewelry, stones, cards, clothing, coffee and merchandise connected with his band, Anima Tierra.

Walking into the space, it’s difficult to call Motherland PH merely a store. It feels more like a gathering place for people drawn to peace, soul, music and alternative creative energy. Visitors come not only to buy, but also to listen and learn.

Back to our basic percussion session, Gildore reflects that after 20 years of experience, creating and playing drums has become second nature.

‘Dati matagal ang paggawa, ngayon kahit nakapikit pa,’ he said, laughing, before shifting to a more serious tone. ‘Para bang bawat isang dyandi, may kaluluwa ni Jason.’

Tim Cone admitted the coaching staff is still trying to find the right combinations and accepted responsibility for Gilas Pilipinas’ two blowout losses in tuneup games in Korea.

Still, Cone remains confident Gilas Pilipinas will be ready for its opening game against Bahrain on Friday at the Aichi International Arena in Nagoya, Japan.

‘We have not figured out how to best use the skills of our guys yet. But me and our staff will be better, and we will be better in helping our players prepare for what is ahead. No need to panic. We will be more ready,’ Cone said after a 42-69 loss to the Koreans at the KT Sonicboom Arena in Suwon, South Korea. They dropped their first tuneup, 55-81.

Zav Lucero came up with 14 points and six rebounds, with no other player among the 11-man team scoring in double figures.

‘South Korea was a tough team, the same team that has played the four FIBA windows. We could not approach their level of execution and knowledge of each other,’ Cone told the BusinessMirror on Sunday.

‘These losses were not on the players,

and it was on us as a coaching staff.’

The team leaves Suwan for Nagoya continue their preparations for their title-defense.

The Philippines takes on Kazakhstan on Saturday and closes out the preliminary round against China on September 14.

Cone said the tough tuneup week gave the Philippines a gauge of where it stands, while tipping Korea as a title contender.

South Korea shot better from three-point range, beating the Filipinos, 9-5, in the first game and 10-3 in the second. The home team also had more assists, 23-12, and 23-13. ‘It could be the favorite for the gold, yes,’ he said.

The Philippine team is awaiting an update from Justin Brownlee, who is recovering from a leg injury, and whether he has been cleared to play.

‘It is not yet too late’ to change course and redirect what has been used for destruction towards life, Pope Leo XIV said on Tuesday, urging Christians to make care for creation an expression of ecological conversion and universal fraternity.

The Pope was celebrating Mass at the Laudato Si’ Village in Castel Gandolfo on 1 September, marking the annual World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation and the beginning of the five-week Season of Creation.

Reflecting on the biblical readings, Pope Leo invited the faithful to contemplate the beauty of the natural world and, through it, to recognize the Creator.

In the gardens of the Laudato Si’ Village, he said, this invitation to contemplate creation is particularly fitting.

‘It would be superficial to marvel at fire, wind, rushing waters or the stars of heaven, without allowing our gaze to rise to the Creator of such wonders,’ he noted.

Listen to the ‘melodious voice’ of creation

The pope asked those present to step back from the pace and noise of everyday life and rediscover their place within the harmony of creation noting that the Season of Creation provides an opportunity to ‘pause from the frenzy of our daily lives’ and to recognize that humanity itself is part of the profound harmony found in God’s creation.

‘Let us place in ‘silent mode’ the many noises generated by human activity,’ Pope Leo said, ‘so that we may hear the melodious voice of creation, through which God, the Author of all things, speaks to us.’

The pope explained that this ‘task’ of contemplation is more than an appreciation of the natural world and noted that it is the beginning of an encounter with God that can lead to a transformation in the way human beings relate to creation.

It is the first step, he said, toward an ‘authentic ecological conversion’, in which the effects of an encounter with Jesus Christ become visible in humanity’s relationship with the world.

A responsibility shared by all

Contemplating creation and encountering its Creator, Pope Leo said, leads to a deeper awareness of humanity’s place within God’s plan-and of the responsibility that follows from it.

That responsibility is both personal and collective, he said.

‘As we become conscious of our shortcomings and failures,’ he continued, ‘we can renew our commitment to restoring the relationships among all creatures according to the will of their Creator.’

The pope then turned to one of the central themes of this year’s World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation: the transformation of instruments of destruction into instruments that sustain life.

Referring to the biblical prophecy to ‘beat swords into ploughshares’ which is also the theme for his message for the World Day, he said the call is to ‘transform harm into life’.

‘It is not yet too late,’ Pope Leo insisted.

‘What has been used for destruction can be redirected toward life,’ he said, ‘toward the care of the poor, the nourishment of the hungry, and the safeguarding of creation.’

Following the example of Saint Francis

The Season of Creation will conclude on October 4, when the Church commemorates the eighth centenary of the death of Saint Francis of Assisi.

Pope Leo recalled that Pope Francis drew particular inspiration from the saint when writing Laudato Si’ and in establishing the Laudato Si’ Village, where the Mass was celebrated.

Inviting the faithful to unite themselves spiritually with the ‘Little poor man of Assisi,’ Pope Leo turned to the Canticle of the Creatures, in which Saint Francis praises God through the sun, moon and stars, wind, water, fire and the earth.

‘With Saint Francis,’ he said, ‘let us renew our commitment to living and promoting that universal fraternity which is inseparably bound to the task of caring for creation.’