By Leonardo Micua

 

WE note about 2nd District Rep. Mark Cojuangco being passionate about the construction of a nuclear power plant in Labrador, same as what he’s doing for his two other mega projects— the Lingayen Gulf Seawall, and the conversion of the Lingayen-Binmaley Baywalk into a six-lane national highway leading to Labrador.

But, he must listen to the public opinion of most of his countrymen who believe that nuclear energy has its own risk, not only to life, flora, and fauna, but also to the environment as a whole.

Rep. Cojuangco is being eyed as the moving force behind an express initiative to fast-track the construction of a nuclear power plant in Labrador. But he cannot do this project alone. The Philippines, nor Pangasinan, nor his own turf, the province’s second district, is not his.

His project is now facing strong opposition, following the release of a sharply worded pastoral letter signed by 33 archbishops and bishops from across the country.

Their unified stand adds a powerful moral voice to the debate, made even more striking given the absence of a clear national policy on the fate of the dormant Bataan Nuclear Power Plant in Morong. The national government has yet to determine whether the Philippines needs new nuclear facilities at all, much less where they should be built.

Yet Labrador appears to be moving ahead as a willing host, its public sentiment reportedly tilting in favor of the project. Much of this momentum is attributed to Rep. Cojuangco.

But the lawmaker would do well to pause and listen. The bishops’ letter urges a halt to any plans for nuclear development in Pangasinan—or anywhere in the country—citing moral, environmental, and safety concerns.

To bulldoze past this opposition is to risk dragging the Marcos administration into another political storm at a time when public anger over alleged corruption in flood-control projects has already resulted in calls for the President’s resignation.

Questions surrounding Cojuangco’s qualifications only fuel skepticism. He is neither a scientist nor an engineer, and critics argue that determining the safest location for a nuclear facility—one that minimizes risk to communities, wildlife, and ecosystems—requires expertise far beyond politics.

Reports also suggest that he has been behind surveys to measure public support, and even organized what was dubbed an educational trip to the Bataan nuclear facility to shape local perception.

More troubling are hints that residents living within the proposed project site could be relocated soon, indicating determined efforts to press the project forward despite the lack of clarity on who will fund and build this multibillion-peso undertaking.

This non-transparency—on costs, risks, and accountability—casts a long shadow over the proposal. Instead of becoming a legacy project, it could turn into a major liability for the presidency, especially if religious groups and civil society mount a broader movement against it.

Cojuangco may believe he can weather public dissent, as shown by his reaction to the bishops’ pastoral letter.  But if his nuclear initiative continues without transparency, scientific grounding, and genuine consultation, its fallout—political and social—could be far more explosive than any reactor it hopes to build.

Recall that months after his father, Ferdinand Edralin Marcos, built the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant, the people power at EDSA booted him out of office.  Of course, the younger Marcos wants to remain as the Philippine president till 2028. Ouch!