22/08/2026
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We call it our national tree. We celebrate it as a symbol of Filipino strength, resilience, and endurance. Yet in the forests where it is supposed to grow naturally, narra is increasingly fighting for survival.
Narra (Pterocarpus indicus) is classified as Endangered on the IUCN Red List, its wild populations battered by decades of logging, habitat destruction, land conversion, and the relentless demand for its beautiful and extremely valuable hardwood.
And that should concern us.
Because seeing narra trees in parks, school grounds, government compounds, and city streets can create the illusion that the species is doing fine. It isnโt that simple. Planted trees may remain familiar, but healthy, naturally occurring populations in forests are another story.
WE LOVED NARRA FOR ITS WOOD
Part of narraโs tragedy is precisely what made it famous.
Its reddish hardwood is exceptionally durable, beautiful, and resistant to termites, making it highly prized for furniture, flooring, cabinetry, carving, and other fine woodwork. Generations harvested it faster than forests could naturally replace it.
Habitat loss made things worse. Forests were cleared or fragmented for agriculture, settlements, roads, mining, and other development, leaving wild narra populations increasingly isolated.
Research involving Philippine narra populations has also raised concerns about genetic diversity. When surviving trees become separated into small, fragmented populations, their ability to reproduce across a broad genetic pool can be reducedโanother problem for the speciesโ long-term survival.
OUR NATIONAL TREE SHOULD NOT BECOME A MEMORY
Narra is more than lumber.
Its broad crown provides shade. Its flowers support insects. Like other large native trees, mature narra can store carbon and provide habitat within a larger forest ecosystem. Most importantly, it belongs here. It is part of the countryโs natural heritage.
Yet there is something painfully ironic about calling a species our โnational treeโ while allowing its natural populations to disappear.
Protection therefore cannot stop at preventing people from cutting the narra trees that remain. We need to grow the next generation.
Plant narra in appropriate spaces. Include it in native-tree restoration projects. Grow it in schools, parks, watersheds, farms, institutional grounds, and communities where it can mature safely. Whenever possible, restoration should use suitable native planting material and prioritize ecological diversity rather than turning reforestation sites into single-species plantations.
And once planted, protect it.
A narra seedling placed in the ground for a photo opportunity means little if nobody waters it, guards it from damage, or gives it enough space to become the enormous tree it was meant to be.
PLANT FOR PEOPLE YOU MAY NEVER MEET
This is where narra asks something unusual from us: patience.
A tree planted today may become most magnificent long after the person who planted it is gone. Its shade may fall on children who have not yet been born.
That is precisely why planting native trees matters.
Government agencies, local governments, schools, developers, environmental organizations, private landowners, and ordinary Filipinos can all help ensure that narra does not survive merely as a national symbol printed in textbooks.
Plant one if you have an appropriate place. Support groups restoring native forests. Protect mature trees in your community. Report suspected illegal cutting or trade to the proper authorities. And when tree-planting projects are organized, ask whether native species such as narra are part of themโand whether someone will still be caring for those seedlings years later.
We inherited a country where narra was important enough to be called our national tree.
The least we can do is make sure future Filipinos can still stand beneath one.
(โ๏ธ Top Dagohoy)
