Paradise under pressure: Can Philippines’ Siargao sustain its tourism boom?

SIARGAO, Philippines: For professional surfer John Mark Tokong, better known to his peers as Marama, the waters surrounding Siargao have always been more than a surfing paradise. 

Growing up on the southeastern Philippine island, fishing was part of everyday life. When there was little food, the sea provided. Families relied on farming and selling what they could to make ends meet. 

“Growing up here, a long time ago, (there was) not much business,” he recalled. “If we didn’t have food, we’d go fishing. We’d farm (for) rice.” 

Today, the island he calls home is almost unrecognisable. 

Once-quiet streets are now lined with trendy cafes, restaurants and resorts. Tourists flock to its beaches while surfers from around the world descend on its legendary waves. 

For Marama, who has since become one of the nation’s leading professional surfers, the transformation has opened doors to opportunities that would have been difficult to imagine during his childhood. 

But Siargao’s newfound fame has also come at a cost. 

Behind its picture-perfect beaches and thriving tourism industry, locals are grappling with soaring rents, mounting waste and fears that rapid development could eventually push them out of their own communities. 

FROM SURFING HIDEAWAY TO GLOBAL HOTSPOT 

A decade ago, Siargao was a sleepy enclave known mainly to die-hard surf enthusiasts drawn to its powerful Pacific swells. 

But as the island became more accessible, a social media-fuelled tourism boom soon followed. 

In 2019, readers of Conde Nast Traveler magazine voted Siargao the world’s best island, ahead of established tropical destinations such as Bali and Bora Bora.

Tourist arrivals reached 257,900 that year, according to the Philippine Department of Tourism.

The COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 and the devastation caused by Super Typhoon Rai in 2021 temporarily disrupted that growth. 

But tourism rebounded sharply, with arrivals surging past half a million in 2023 and climbing further to 557,094 in 2024. That was nearly four times the island’s population of 145,806 that year, according to the Philippine Statistics Authority’s census. 

Much of the activity is concentrated in General Luna, the island’s main tourism hub, where a lively stretch aptly named Tourism Road is packed with restaurants, bars, accommodation and shops. 

The real crowd-drawer remains its world-class surf scene. 

Dubbed the Philippines’ surfing capital, the island offers waves for almost every skill level, from beginners learning to balance on their boards to seasoned professionals chasing the ultimate adrenaline rush. 

Local surf coach Rafael Nogalo said the influx of visitors has created a livelihood built around sharing his passion for the ocean. 

“For beginners, the moment they catch their first wave and I hear them scream and raise their hands, is the best reward ever,” said the former competitive surfer. 

The island’s most famous surf break, Cloud 9, has earned a reputation for powerful, barrelling waves. 

The spot was also where Siargao hosted its first World Surf League Championship Tour, the highest level of professional surfing, earlier this month. 

Among the competitors was the island’s very own Marama, who made history as the first Filipino to secure a main-event wildcard for the tour. Although he did not win the tournament, he pulled off a stunning opening-round upset against Brazil’s world number 11 Samuel Pupo.  

But while the event marks a major milestone for Siargao’s surfing community, it has also brought fresh attention to the growing pressures on an island already grappling with the impact of its tourism boom. 

LOCALS GRAPPLE WITH RISING PRICES

Despite the jobs and business opportunities brought by the influx of visitors, residents and entrepreneurs are increasingly questioning whether Siargao’s rapid growth is coming at too high a cost. 

Filipino-French business owner Christophe Bariou first visited Siargao when he was 12. He remembers roads winding through dense jungles, with small towns and beaches emerging unexpectedly from the greenery. 

The experience left such a lasting impression that he eventually returned to settle on the island. 

More than a decade later, Bariou now owns a boutique resort, a restaurant and a coconut milk brand, and employs dozens of residents. 

“Siargao is a paradise for people who come here. For tourists, especially. There’s so much to see. It’s such a unique island because of its community and the surf,” he said. 

He welcomes the economic opportunities that tourism has created, but admits the boom is a double-edged sword. 

“Development always comes, no matter what, with some sort of impact,” he told CNA, adding that sustainability should be incorporated into projects from the outset, alongside efforts to give back to the local community.  

For Maria Tokong, a musician, cultural activist and community organiser whose family descends from Siargao’s indigenous settlers, the changes have been particularly unsettling. 

She remembers growing up in a close-knit community surrounded by unspoiled natural beauty. 

Now, she fears that the island’s traditional residents, known locally as Lumad, are increasingly being priced out of the places they have called home for generations. 

As corporate giants and foreign-backed developers compete to buy or lease land for resorts and tourism businesses, property values have climbed, pushing up rents and the cost of everyday necessities. 

“Lately, the new businesses and events coming into our island seem to exclude the Lumads entirely,” Tokong said. 

“It feels like almost all the services – or at least the vast majority – are no longer meant for us, especially now that everything has become so unaffordable.” 

In General Luna, monthly rent for a small studio apartment can reach 35,000 pesos (US$550), comparable to prices in major Philippine cities. 

Rising transport, fuel and operating costs have also forced some local eateries, known as carinderias, to raise their prices. 

Local authorities have acknowledged the growing affordability problem. They are strengthening price monitoring for basic commodities to protect consumers from surging costs, while exploring longer-term solutions. 

“We want to buy properties for the local government, maybe farther from the town, so we can (build) some facilities or socialised housing for people,” said General Luna Vice Mayor Romina Rusillon-Sajulga. 

But the housing crunch is just one part of a broader concern over who ultimately benefits from Siargao’s tourism boom. 

Mark Pintucan and Iris Aroa, who moved to the island about a decade ago, have witnessed how traditional livelihoods have come under pressure as the tourism economy expands. 

They discovered that more than 90 per cent of the island’s produce was imported, driving up food prices even as domestic growers struggled to access the growing market. 

Determined to change that, the couple established Lokal Lab, a non-governmental organisation that connects local food producers with businesses and consumers. 

Through its dedicated market hub, farmers and fisherfolk can sell their harvests, while training in regenerative agroforestry helps them cultivate sustainable, high-value crops. The initiative also helps small producers formalise their businesses through government registration. 

“We wanted to provide a platform for small producers, small artisans, to access the larger tourism market,” said Aroa. 

Pintucan believes tourism can only have a truly positive impact through fairer distribution of its economic benefits. 

“It’s how much the investors are taking versus what the workers can take back home. That difference … is growing. If nothing changes in that, the community will be kicked out,” he said. 

AN ISLAND STRUGGLING WITH ITS OWN WASTE  

Beyond rising living costs, Siargao’s growing popularity is also placing enormous pressure on its environment. 

The surge in visitors has generated increasing volumes of rubbish, straining waste collection and processing systems while raising the risk of pollution in surrounding waters. 

Previously, waste management on the island relied heavily on mixed rubbish collection and open dumping. 

“Because we’re a coastal island, waste (can) easily wash straight into the ocean,” said Gina Barquilla, head of the municipal environment and natural resources office in Del Carmen, a town on the western side of Siargao. 

With open dumpsites now prohibited and the island’s sensitive coastal environment ruling out a sanitary landfill, the local government must rely on source segregation. 

A materials recovery facility has been established to process sorted waste, integrating wastewater and solid waste management into a centralised place. It composts biodegradable materials and recycles reusable items. A waste-to-fuel machine also converts certain non-recyclable plastics into usable fuel. 

But infrastructure alone will not solve the problem. Barquilla said the success of such initiatives depends on cooperation from residents and visitors, supported by clear local policies and consistent enforcement. 

“Above all, this is really about the cooperation of the local government with the community,” she said. 

Local authorities are also seeking greater support from the national government to address the infrastructure gap. 

“To have sustainable tourism, we should be fully supported by the national government. We don’t have the capacity to build all those infrastructures,” said vice mayor Rusillon-Sajulga. 

TOURIST MISCONDUCT FUELS RESENTMENT 

Economic and environmental pressures are not the only challenges confronting Siargao. A series of incidents involving foreign visitors has also heightened concerns about public safety and tourist behaviour on the island. 

By day, General Luna is a bustling centre for surfing, dining and island-hopping. At night, Tourism Road transforms into a sprawling open-air party, with bars and music drawing crowds eager to experience the island’s famed nightlife. 

But some residents say the party atmosphere has brought unwelcome problems. 

In April, police intervened in a violent bar brawl involving American and Israeli tourists at a beachfront establishment. The following month, reports emerged of an alleged attack by Israeli tourists on the owners of a local cafe. CCTV footage of the incident circulated widely online, prompting a police investigation. 

The incidents sparked public outrage and renewed calls for stronger measures to protect residents and businesses. 

For entrepreneur and activist Rich Tuason, who traded her fast-paced life in Manila for Siargao’s tranquillity four years ago, they reflect a wider problem of some visitors behaving as though they are above the rules. 

“When tourists visit here, they feel entitled to act however they want without any accountability whatsoever,” she said. “It’s so easy for them to do a crime here and then fly out right away.” 

Tuason said she has become increasingly concerned about safety, particularly for women. While she supports stronger law enforcement, she believes educating visitors about acceptable behaviour is equally important. 

“Not all tourists know what they’re supposed to do and what they’re not supposed to do. I just want (them to be) informed, we don’t have to kick them out and ban them,” she said. 

The controversies have also drawn diplomatic attention. Israeli Ambassador to the Philippines Dana Kursh visited Siargao following the high-profile incidents, meeting local officials and business owners.  

Kursh stressed that tourists must respect local laws and customs, and that those who fail to do so should be brought to the relevant authorities and handled according to the law. 

Philippine authorities have since stepped up efforts to regulate tourist behaviour. The Department of Tourism is developing a visitor code of conduct, which has already been piloted in Siargao. 

The Bureau of Immigration has also intensified enforcement against foreigners violating immigration rules. 

In July, Siargao authorities arrested a New Zealand woman and a Swiss man for allegedly operating a resort illegally while holding tourist visas. 

Police patrols have also been stepped up, particularly at night when Siargao’s entertainment district comes alive. 

“Before, we had just 40 or 45 policemen here, but now we have 100 plus policemen. Tourism Road at nighttime you can see policemen (every) few metres,” said Rusillon-Sajulga. 

PROTECTING SIARGAO FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS 

For homegrown elite surfer and activist Ana Mae Alipayo, the challenges facing Siargao have become impossible to ignore. 

She watched with pride as her hometown gained international recognition, but worries that its identity is increasingly being shaped by outsiders who see the island primarily as a place to party or invest. 

“I never really imagined the worst side of it. I cannot control other people, like influencers who come here, (branding this) a party place. Or foreigners who come in and invest (and) sell the land,” she said. 

Today, she is channelling her focus into community advocacy to guard against what some residents have described as “invasive tourism”. 

“What I’m doing right now is to speak out. And my point of view is that, as locals, we need to be informed and be stronger together,” she said. 

Fellow surfer Marama said Siargao’s greatest asset has never been just its famous waves, but the people who call the island home. 

“It’s not just my home,” he said. “It’s the people around Siargao. We have a really strong community here. We help each other,” he said. 

For indigenous musician Tokong, the stakes go beyond protecting the island’s natural beauty or preserving its appeal as a tourist destination. She fears that without urgent action, the island’s communities could lose their place in the very home they have inhabited for generations. 

“It’s crucial that we take action to make this actually last for the next generation, in the next five to 10 years,” she said. “If we do not act now, we might end up being displaced.”

Source: CNA/dn(mp)