Agarwood Today, Gmelina Yesterday: When Will We Ever Learn?

Agarwood Today, Gmelina Yesterday: When Will We Ever Learn?

Every generation of Philippine agriculture seems to fall in love with a “miracle tree.”
Fast-growing. High-value. Export-ready. Environment-friendly—until it isn’t.

In the 1990s, it was gmelina.
Today, it is agarwood.

The Gmelina Lesson We Keep Forgetting

Gmelina was introduced with confidence: it would replace timber, supply paper mills, and ease pressure on forests. What followed in many areas was a quiet ecological bill:

  • Excessive water consumption, drying wells and stressing watersheds
  • Soil degradation and loss of undergrowth
  • Biodiversity decline from monoculture planting
  • Disappointing farmer returns once the hype wore off

The problem was not just the tree.
It was the habit of importing solutions faster than we understand ecosystems.

Enter Agarwood—With Familiar Promises

Agarwood is now being promoted as a high-value agroforestry crop. To be clear: agarwood can grow here—but it is not endemic to Albay or Bicol. It is an introduced species with real risks that are often glossed over:

  • It takes 7–15 years before any serious return
  • Resin production is uncertain, even with inoculation
  • Markets are complex and trader-driven
  • Farmers shoulder most of the risk, long before profits appear

Calling this “sustainable agroforestry” does not automatically make it so. Sustainability is not a slogan—it is a system.

Meanwhile, the Pili Tree Is Still Waiting

Here is the irony: while we chase exotic high-value crops, Albay already has a globally competitive tree—pili.

Pili is:

  • Endemic to Bicol
  • Water-resilient, not water-hungry
  • Deeply embedded in local culture and food systems
  • Capable of supporting multiple value chains—food, oil, cosmetics, tourism

Unlike gmelina or agarwood, pili does not need ecological justification. It already belongs here.

The Question That Matters

The real question is not whether agarwood can grow in Albay.
It probably can.

The real question is: why do we keep experimenting with imported trees while underinvesting in the ones rooted in our own landscape?

Agarwood may have a place—as a small, well-regulated pilot, not a new miracle cure. But if Albay is serious about resilience, livelihoods, and learning from history, the smarter path is clear.

We already paid tuition for the gmelina lesson.
Repeating the class would be the real failure.

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