For what it’s worth, Ferdinand Marcos Sr.’s energy policy remains a benchmark for sustainability and reliability. Had the 620-megawatt Bataan Nuclear Power Plant (BNPP) not been shelved by the Aquino administration, Filipinos would likely have enjoyed cheaper electricity rates from that technology decades ago.

But what awaits Filipino consumers under the BBM administration could be a lingering legacy of pain. Even decades after he leaves office, ratepayers may still be footing the bill for the surge in electricity rates baked into his current energy policies.

Why? Because the Marcos Jr. administration is pushing costly capacity additions that Filipino ratepayers can scarcely afford, banking on technologies like offshore wind and nuclear power without a credible plan to shield consumers from punishing bill increases.

To be clear, nuclear power pays off in the long run. But without disciplined rate-setting, government guarantees, or control over the front-loading of financing costs, its colossal upfront price tag risks crushing consumers’ pockets long before the promised savings arrive.

Nuclear power remains the country’s unfinished love affair—both literal and symbolic. That is why Energy Secretary Sharon Garin is determined to concretize that vision, pushing nuclear development into the fast lane during the Marcos administration’s final two years.

Even so, nuclear remains a work in progress. Rate impacts must be tamed, and the Philippines must ensure that small modular reactors (SMRs) do not turn the country into a testing ground for technologies still unlicensed in their home markets.

Our regulators and policymakers must extract hard lessons from ongoing international nuclear collaborations—primarily on how to soften rate impacts and manage cost overruns from problematic delays—before these burdens land squarely on the shoulders of Filipino ratepayers.

The Department of Energy (DOE) takes pride in anchoring its push for substantial renewable contract awards on the country’s energy transition agenda. Certainly, protecting the environment is a shared duty; but it should never be wielded as a golden ticket for reckless neglect and ballooning costs.

Energy officials are swooning over the applause and rhapsodic “praise releases” from project sponsors. But really: how much is too much? Must a climate-vulnerable, developing country like the Philippines carry the weight of industrialized nations’ clean energy ambitions—selling carbon credits or providing for their renewable resource needs—while those same countries continue to burn fossil fuels at home?

DOE data tells a story: as of early 2025, installed capacity stood at 30,479 MW, while peak demand is forecast to hover at 25,000 MW by 2028. Nevertheless, the real test is whether the Marcos administration can turn these newly awarded capacities into consistent, cost-effective electricity. Furthermore, do we truly need more variable RE capacities, or should we prioritize other technologies (i.e., baseload and mid-merit) in our power mix?

With more than 20,000 MW of 20-year power supply agreements (PSAs) for renewables on the table this year alone, the DOE seems to be pushing the limits. It is awarding 6,677 MW of geothermal and hydro capacities under Green Energy Auction-3 (GEA-3); 10,195 MW of solar and wind under GEA-4; and wrapping up with a prospective award of 3,300 MW of offshore wind under GEA-5, announced in November.

That is on top of the 3,580 MW awarded under GEA-2 in 2023. The DOE remains at full throttle, lining up even more auctions under GEA-6, GEA-7, and GEA-8.

To put it bluntly, recent GEAs alone account for roughly 24,000 MW of new installed capacity—excluding GEA-1, because the industry’s supposed “big winner” spectacularly failed to deliver.

With this avalanche of RE projects, one question is unavoidable: do we really need all this capacity, especially when relentless rate hikes could burden households for decades? With peak demand projected at 25,000 MW by 2028, how many of these installed gigawatts will actually benefit end-users?

Starting January 2026, the Green Energy Auction Allowance (GEA-All), as approved by the Energy Regulatory Commission (ERC), will raise electric bills by ₱0.0371 per kWh. This entails consumers shouldering the price tag of an ambitious, government-backed renewable energy program.

Far from a one-off, the GEA-All will be a recurring burden, updated yearly and pegged to the capacity deliveries of project developers. Consequently, Filipino ratepayers will carry this cost for the full 20-year span of the GEA contracts.

The DOE projects that GEAs will eventually bring prices down by ₱0.90 to ₱1.32 per kWh, hitting an average of ₱3 per kWh in the Wholesale Electricity Spot Market (WESM) by 2029—down from the roughly ₱5.00 level expected in 2026.

However, for consumers, the reality could be the opposite. As the GEA-All differential widens, electric bills may actually climb despite falling spot market prices. Because renewables can bid “zero” in the spot market due to their priority dispatch privilege—and because their capacities are already covered by PSAs—an illusion of cheaper electricity is created. This artificial dip won't translate to lower bills if the GEA-All surcharge remains on an uptrend.

Furthermore, who is brave enough to confront policymakers on the fact that the GEA-All may have no grounding in law? In reality, the charge is nowhere provided for under the Renewable Energy Law (Republic Act 9513).

The burden doesn’t end there. Consumers will similarly shoulder the staggering costs of transmission infrastructure required to integrate these massive capacities into the grid, plus the eventual need for grid-forming inverters to avoid nightmarish blackouts similar to the incidents that crippled Spain and Portugal this year.

While we may celebrate the decline in solar and wind technology prices, there are hidden “externalities”: agricultural lands lost to solar arrays, hills stripped of trees, and indigenous communities displaced. The price of these overlooked damages falls on ordinary Filipinos, and such costs demand scrutiny before these projects are labeled “purely green.”

Other energy markets have been more cautious. Thailand, for example, has limited solar development to roughly 5,000 MW to safeguard agricultural productivity. Conversely, in the Philippines, green energy rollouts bulldoze farmlands with minimal oversight and near-zero accountability.

On the socio-economic front, solar projects in South Korea built across rural hills have been blamed for devastating floods and landslides. Massive tree-cutting by developers has turned once-safe communities into disaster zones.

The next time you point fingers at controversial “ghost flood control projects” in the Philippines, look around. Some renewable energy installations in our mountain ranges may share the blame for those floods.

Even now, key agencies like the DOE, DENR, and DAR have failed to designate safe “build areas.” Solar projects are encroaching on food-producing domains, while offshore wind developments advance without clear marine spatial planning (MSP) or demarcated “no-go zones.”

Today, your rice and vegetables are disappearing from the table; tomorrow, it could be your seafood, unless the government exercises prudence in shaping offshore wind policies.

Renewables may be saving the planet, but when they drain your wallet, gobble up farmland, trample biodiversity, and displace indigenous communities, that “green beauty” quickly turns into a pricey, chaotic mess that nobody signed up for.