EDITORIAL
WHAT exactly is a government-issued permit worth? That question resurfaces following the Mines and Geosciences Bureau’s suspension of Woggle Corporation’s exploration permit in Dupax, Nueva Vizcaya. The company received the suspension order on February 11. Curiously, however, the contents of the order had already been circulating publicly before the firm officially received it.
Set aside, for a moment, the politics surrounding mining in Nueva Vizcaya. Strip away the noise of barricades, agitation, and competing narratives. What remains is a more fundamental issue: the stability of government grants. An exploration permit is not a casual indulgence handed out at whim. It is a formal government grant issued under statutory authority. It carries rights and obligations, creates expectations, and induces capital deployment.
Exploration is not cheap guesswork. It requires upfront investment—geological studies, technical surveys, environmental safeguards, and community engagement. These are sunk costs, undertaken in reliance on regulatory continuity. If a permit can be suspended because third parties erect illegal barricades or generate sufficient political pressure, then we are no longer dealing with environmental governance. We are confronting regulatory fragility.
There is also the matter of force majeure—a principle often invoked when unforeseen events prevent performance. But force majeure is not a blanket escape hatch. It does not erase vested rights, nor does it shift the burden of unlawful acts by private actors onto a compliant permit holder. If disruptive acts by private groups can trigger suspension of a lawful permit, then what incentive is created? The loudest disruption becomes a regulatory tool. That is a dangerous precedent.
Mining, more than most industries, depends on long investment horizons. It demands patient capital and regulatory predictability. Investors—domestic and foreign—price risk carefully: political risk, regulatory risk, enforcement risk. When government-issued permits appear vulnerable to sudden suspension amid agitation, the risk premium rises. Capital hesitates, projects stall, and employment suffers. In this case, more than 1,200 workers linked to ongoing operations could feel the downstream impact of exploration delays. These are not abstract numbers—they are families, suppliers, and host communities.
None of this argues that regulators should abdicate oversight. Environmental standards must be upheld, compliance must be monitored, and violations must be sanctioned. But enforcement must rest on clear legal grounds—not optics, pressure, or preemption. If force majeure is being invoked, under what statutory authority? If suspension is warranted, what precise violation justifies it? If illegal barricades exist, why should a compliant permit holder bear the consequence rather than those who erected them?
These questions go beyond one company in Nueva Vizcaya. They go to the heart of what kind of investment climate the Philippines intends to offer. A country seeking to attract responsible mining capital cannot afford ambiguity in the value of its own permits. Government grants must mean something. Contracts must carry weight. Regulatory processes must be predictable. Otherwise, permits become paper. And paper does not build industries.