Farmers near Butuan City are facing challenges due to diminishing water sources, parched soil, and reduced crop yields as a lengthy dry spell and significant rainfall shortage affect Agusan del Norte.
One of these farmers is Mariano. Yesterday, he stood in the middle of his field, clutching a handful of soil that crumbled like ash between his fingers. Only three months ago, the same land was lush with corn, green and promising. Rains had come unexpectedly in June and July—heavy rains, even—brought by typhoons and the habagat. “Kaingon namo ug luwas na mi,” he said quietly. (“We thought we were safe.”)
But the rains were a mirage. The soil beneath had already been drying. The moisture that farmers relied on was thinning out. And now, as September begins, the truth has arrived with a force that feels biblical: the super El Niño is here, and Filipinos—especially farmers—are bewildered, blindsided, and bracing for impact.
Science had sounded the alarm early in the year. Meteorologists warned that the Pacific was warming rapidly, that the ocean-atmosphere system was shifting, and that a strong El Niño was imminent. But the intermittent rains lulled many into complacency. The warnings were drowned out by the sound of rainfall on tin roofs.
Now, the country faces a climatic reckoning.
A Mirror From the Past
The Bible offers a haunting parallel in Genesis 41. Pharaoh dreams of seven robust cows devoured by seven emaciated ones, and seven healthy ears of grain swallowed by seven withered stalks. None of Egypt’s wise men could interpret the vision—until Joseph stepped forward.
Joseph foretold seven years of abundance followed by seven years of severe drought. Acting on this prophecy, he stored grain “as plentiful as the sand by the sea,” preparing Egypt for the hardship to come. When the drought arrived, Egypt survived because it listened to the warning.
Today’s El Niño is not a seven‑year catastrophe. But the lesson remains: heed the warning or suffer the consequences.
A Colossal Heat Monster
“This is the first time we expressed such a degree of certainty,” declared Celeste Saulo, secretary‑general of the UN World Meteorological Organization (WMO). “Our forecast shows an exceptionally high likelihood—nearly 100%—that El Niño will persist through February 2027.”
Not just any El Niño, but a super El Niño. Canadian journalist Stephen Leahy described it as “the colossal‑heat‑monster Kraken,” invoking the mythical sea creature that symbolizes the terror of the deep. The metaphor is apt: the Pacific Ocean is storing heat at levels that defy imagination.
According to WMO’s latest update, the El Niño has already strengthened and will continue as a “very strong event—even exceptionally strong.” If the trajectory continues, it may surpass the powerful 2023–2024 episode that helped make 2024 the warmest year ever recorded.
“We should not be surprised if this record is broken,” Saulo warned. “This El Niño will deliver a major blow to communities, economies, and supply chains across the globe.”
The Worst Is Yet to Come
The Philippines is squarely in the crosshairs. The Philippine Atmospheric, Geophysical and Astronomical Services Administration (PAGASA) echoes the global warning: “Climate models predict that the ongoing El Niño will continue until the first half of 2027 and may reach a very strong state before the end of 2026.”
This means the country is entering a prolonged period of moisture depletion, water scarcity, agricultural stress, and heightened wildfire risk. The rains that fell earlier this year were deceptive—temporary relief masking a deeper, systemic drying.
El Niño is unpredictable, mind‑boggling, and destructive. The Philippine Council for Agriculture, Aquatic and Natural Resources Research and Development (PCAARRD) calls it “an enemy that could cause damage to the environment, agriculture, and marine life.”
A Global Disturbance
Scientists rank El Niño as the number one force the reshapes weather across continents: For example, in North America, the northern regions of the United States and Canada frequently undergo warmer and drier winters, whereas the southern U.S. encounters wetter and more turbulent weather.
In South America, the coastal areas of Ecuador and Peru might suffer from significant rainfall and flooding, while other parts of the continent deal with drought conditions. In Asia and Australia, the majority of nations face drier climates and a heightened risk of drought and wildfires.
For the Philippines, the impacts are already visible. Windy.com, a globally recognized weather application, reports severe moisture depletion across Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao.
As of September 4, Mindanao is in crisis, with “exceptional to extreme drought” in: Agusan del Norte, Agusan del Sur, Basilan, Bukidnon, Cotabato, Davao City, Davao de Oro, Davao del Norte, Davao del Sur, Davao Occidental, Davao Oriental, Lanao del Norte, Lanao del Sur, Maguindanao del Norte, Maguindanao del Sur, Misamis Occidental, Misamis Oriental, Sarangani, South Cotabato, Sultan Kudarat, Surigao del Norte, Surigao del Sur, Zamboanga City, Zamboanga del Norte, Zamboanga del Sur, and Zamboanga Sibugay. Camiguin, Dinagat Islands, and Sulu face “moderate to severe drought.” Only Tawi‑Tawi has “minor to mild drought.”
Exceptional drought means critical depletion of subsoil moisture, severe crop stress or complete wilting, declining water tables, and drastically reduced river flows. Moderate drought means moisture deficits in root zones, reduced yields, and falling reservoir levels. Minor drought is a warning sign: worse is coming.
The Ghost of 1997–1998
The Philippines has seen El Niño’s wrath before. The 1997–1998 event remains the most severe in national history: 292,000 hectares of rice and corn destroyed, billions of pesos in losses, domestic rice production sharply reduced, GDP growth plunged from 5.6% to 1.2%, 500,000 farming families suffered hunger, and 68% of provinces affected, especially Mindanao, Central Luzon, and Cagayan Valley.
The memory of that disaster haunts today’s farmers. Many fear a repeat—perhaps worse.
Understanding the Phenomenon
“El Niño” means The Boy, named by Peruvian fishermen who noticed warm waters around Christmas. Today, it is part of the broader El Niño Southern Oscillation (ENSO), which includes La Niña (The Girl). El Niño events occur every two to seven years, lasting about a year, sometimes longer.
PCAARRD explains the mechanics. Trade winds weaken, allowing warm water to slosh back eastward. Warm water depresses the thermocline, reducing the cooling effect of upwelling cold water. Sea‑surface temperatures rise. Warm water heats the air above it, altering atmospheric circulation. Rainfall patterns shift dramatically across the globe.
The energy involved is staggering. One American meteorologist noted: “El Niño contains more energy than all the fossil fuel burned in the United States since the beginning of the century.”
It would take one million power plants, each at 1,000 megawatts, running nonstop for a year to heat the ocean that much. This is the scale of the monster the world is facing.
The Philippines: A Nation at Risk
The Philippines is uniquely vulnerable: 30 million hectares of land (of which 60% are classified as uplands), millions of farmers dependent on rainfall, limited irrigation infrastructure, fragmented water governance, high poverty incidence in rural areas, and exposure to typhoons, droughts, and floods. El Niño amplifies all existing weaknesses.
The rains fooled Filipinos. Typhoons and habagat brought intermittent downpours from June to August. Farmers became complacent, believing the worst had passed. Communities relaxed. Local governments postponed drought preparations. But rainfall does not always mean moisture recovery. Surface water can be abundant while subsoil moisture continues to decline.
The Philippines experienced a deceptive wet spell—rainfall without replenishment. Now, the consequences are unfolding.
Lessons From Joseph
In Genesis, Joseph saved Egypt not through prophecy alone, but through preparation. He stored grain during abundance, anticipating scarcity. He acted early, decisively, and strategically.
The Philippines today faces its own version of Pharaoh’s dream. The signs are clear. The warnings are loud. The science is unequivocal. But unlike ancient Egypt, we cannot store water in granaries. We cannot command the winds or the ocean. We cannot stop El Niño.
What we can do is prepare—intelligently, urgently, and collectively.
We can strengthen irrigation, protect watersheds, conserve water, support farmers, diversify crops, improve forecasting, and coordinate national response systems. We can choose not to be complacent again.
The super El Niño is here. The question now is whether the Philippines will face it like Egypt—prepared and resilient—or like the emaciated cows in Pharaoh’s dream, consumed by the drought that follows abundance.
The answer will define not just this year, but the country’s future.
