For many of us, the first drive along the Davao City Coastal Road was a breath of fresh air. After years of being strangled in the bottlenecks of Matina and Bangkal, that wide-open stretch of concrete felt like a victory. But as we look past the windshield, we have to ask: at what point does “progress” start costing us the very things that make Davao home?
In many instances, we find ourselves reminiscing about the smell of grilled seafood along Times Beach and the sea breeze that once soothed the midday heat. We miss the throbbing vibe of the seaside community, where unpaved roads and children running barefoot made us feel somehow more alive and grounded.
We are currently trying to build our way out of a crisis. With Davao now officially ranked as one of the most—if not the most—congested cities in the country, the pressure to “do something” is both real and urgent. Yet, our current solution seems to be a relentless campaign of widening and paving. We are tunneling through our mountains for the Bypass Road and walling off our shoreline with the Coastal Road.
No doubt the Coastal Road is a wondrous sight, especially with the hulking mountains as a backdrop, but it is also a massive concrete barrier. For generations, the Davao Gulf has been our city’s lungs. By hardening the shoreline with reclaimed earth and tetrapods, we aren’t just building a road; we are disrupting the natural rhythm of the sea.
The mangroves that once acted as nurseries for our local fish and buffers against storm surges are being pushed aside. While there are noble initiatives to restore these forests—such as the tree-planting projects of the Rotary Club of Waling-Waling Davao—these efforts must be aggressively supported and maintained by the wider community.
As the “Urban Heat Island” effect turns our downtown streets into ovens, we are paving over the very greenery that could cool us down.
In urban planning, there is a term called “induced demand.” The concept is simple: the more roads you build, the more people decide to buy cars. Today the influx of cheap, second-hand imported cars and “no downpayment” schemes has lured many into vehicle ownership. We are witnessing this in real-time. Every new lane is quickly swallowed by another wave of private SUVs. We are caught in a cycle where we destroy nature to make room for cars, only to find that traffic remains just as stagnant—only now on a newer, more expensive road. These widened roads often morph into massive parking lots, completely defeating the purpose of the expansion.
The most frustrating part for the average commuter is the disparity in speed. While the government can bore a 2.3-kilometer hole through a mountain for cars, the Davao Public Transport Modernization Project, our high-priority bus system, remains stuck in the “coming soon” phase.
We have tried taking the DC Bus and it was comfortable, easily taking out 30 cars off the road. If we truly want to ease congestion and save our environment, we must stop prioritizing the movement of machines and start prioritizing the movement of people.
We do not have to choose between a growing economy and a healthy environment, but we can most certainly choose better projects.
Davao’s tagline is “Life is Here.” If we continue to cover our coasts and mountains to accommodate an endless stream of private cars, we might find that the “life” we’re talking about has been pushed right off the grid.
