Stop being plastic

By Noel Galon de Leon

How faithful are we, really, to this ordinance as a city? Who follows it, who ignores it, and most importantly—why? When Iloilo passed its plastic ban ordinance, the news was greeted with cheers, hashtags, and perhaps even a few dramatic sighs of relief. Finally, a progressive city! Finally, we are saying goodbye to those pesky, crinkly bags that fly around like lost ghosts during Habagat season. But let’s be brutally honest, several years later, plastic is still alive and kicking in Iloilo. Go to Jaro market on a busy Sunday morning, and you will see tindera after tindera double-bagging your tomatoes. Swing by the sari-sari store near your barangay, and you will hear the same familiar question, “Ti, may supot ka? Libre lang ‘ni.” The ordinance is there. The problem is, compliance is optional, like using your signal lights while driving down Diversion Road.

Why does plastic refuse to die? The answer is simple: convenience. Plastic bags are cheap, lightweight, and always ready for duty. You can use them for groceries, rain covers, and even impromptu smagol when one flip-flop tragically breaks in the middle of Robinsons Place. They are versatile little devils. Meanwhile, eco-bags, though heroic in principle, are like gym memberships, we buy them with enthusiasm but forget them at home when they’re most needed.

Let’s face it, Filipinos are masters of improvisation, but not always of preparation. How many of us have marched into the supermarket only to realize our eco-bag is still hanging on the doorknob? “Ay ambot na lang, next time na lang.” And so, we accept the plastic bag, promise ourselves it’s the last one, and then repeat the cycle the very next week.

Every plastic bag we accept has a destiny. It either clogs the drainage during the next rainstorm, drifts through the Batiano River like a floating jellyfish, or sails into the Guimaras Strait where an unlucky fish mistakes it for lunch. Imagine, one careless “yes” to a supot from your tindera equals one less pawikan in the sea. Dark humor, but painfully true.

I am not innocent in this saga. I, too, have been seduced by the convenience of plastic. I have smiled at the tindera who generously bagged my purchase twice “para indi magisi,” even while my eco-bag sat abandoned in the car. Sometimes I forgot. Sometimes I was just too lazy. And then I would walk by the Iloilo River Esplanade, see bottles bobbing up and down like unwanted party guests, and feel the sting of guilt.

That plastic is not just trash, it is a mirror of my weakness, our weakness as a community. And the ugliest part is this, it is not only us who will pay for it. The bill will be handed to our children and grandchildren, who will inherit an Earth suffocating under the weight of our negligence.

So, where is the government in all this? A, yes—the ordinances. Long titles, long sentences, long promises. On paper, Iloilo looks like an environmental hero. But let’s be clear, ordinances without teeth are like batchoy without garlic and chicharon. Technically still batchoy, but who wants it?

Yes, we have eco-projects, Material Recovery Facilities, even those cute sari-sari exchange shops where you can swap empty bottles for salt. Admirable efforts! But with 400 tons of trash every single day, and more than a quarter of that plastic, we are basically using a teaspoon to bail out a sinking ship.

Worse, the enforcement is spotty. Some establishments follow the ordinance religiously, while others treat it like the “No Jaywalking” sign near La Paz Plaza, merely decorative. And when small vendors complain that alternatives are too expensive, the government shrugs. What good is a law if it only works when it’s convenient?

And then there is us, the community. We love clean-up drives, especially when accompanied by free t-shirts and media coverage. We love posing with reusable bottles, posting hashtags like #EcoWarrior. But when the cameras are gone, many of us quietly slip back to old habits. We are plastic about plastic.

Let me tell you something in Hiligaynon, “Indi ka maghambal nga eco-friendly ka kon ara ka sa Esplanade, kag naga-inom ka Coke nga may straw.” Don’t say you are eco-friendly if you’re sipping soda with a plastic straw while walking along the river. That is not advocacy, that is theatre.

This, for me, is the heart of the matter. Plastic is not just about bags and bottles. Plastic is about attitude. Plastic leaders who pass ordinances but fail to enforce them. Plastic citizens who preach about “saving the Earth” but cave in at the sight of a free supot. Plastic commitments that look good in public but dissolve in private.

The fight against plastic is ultimately a fight for integrity. It asks whether we can sacrifice a little convenience for the common good. Whether we can think beyond our own groceries and imagine the coastline of Iloilo five, ten, or fifty years from now.

So here is my plea. Iloilo government, please stop being plastic about plastic. Do not settle for ordinances that sound good but accomplish little. Enforce the law. Support small businesses with affordable eco-alternatives. Show us that this is more than a photo-op.

And to my fellow Ilonggos, let us stop pretending. Bring your eco-bag. Refuse the straw. Correct your kapitbahay when they throw garbage in the estero. Yes, they might call you “OA” or “KSP.” But it is better to be “OA” about the environment than to be “okay lang” about destruction.

Let us transform our Ilonggo humor into Ilonggo discipline. Imagine a future where the only plastic left in Iloilo are the smiles of politicians during campaign season. That, my friends, is a vision worth fighting for.

I hate plastic. Not just the kind that floats in rivers, but the kind that floats in our character, our laziness, our excuses, our plasticity of commitment. If we cannot break free from that, then no ordinance, however well-written, will save us.

The rivers cannot wait. The seas cannot wait. And the future certainly cannot wait for our excuses.

So, Iloilo, let’s stop being plastic, literally and figuratively. Otherwise, we will drown not only in garbage but in our own hypocrisy. And unlike a plastic bag, that shame will never decompose.

***

Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and educator at University of the Philippines Visayas, where he teaches in both the Division of Professional Education and U.P. High School in Iloilo. He serves as an Executive Council Member of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts-National Committee on Literary Arts.