Rocket Launch: Philippines

Sounds great on paper, right? Until you remember that the Philippines doesn’t even have a single military submarine. Not even a combat-ready drone to show off at a parade.

The Philippine Navy has never operated submarines. It remains one of the few countries in the region without a submarine fleet.

As part of its military modernization program (particularly the Re-Horizon 3 phase of the Revised Armed Forces of the Philippines Modernization Program), the country aims to acquire at least two conventional diesel-electric attack submarines (SSKs), along with associated basing, maintenance, training, and logistics support.

The estimated budget for this is roughly 80–110 billion Philippine pesos (about $1.4–1.9 billion). Officials, including Armed Forces Chief of Staff Gen. Romeo Brawner Jr., have described this as a long-standing “dream” needed to better defend the archipelago, especially amid tensions in the West Philippine Sea/South China Sea.

As of mid-2026, no contract has been awarded, and no submarines have been delivered or entered service. The program is still in the evaluation/negotiation stage.

Meanwhile, the country is juggling a financial crisis, an energy crisis, and—just for fun—corruption that never seems to take a vacation.

Oh, and let’s not forget the floods. We can’t seem to fix those either.

If the current administration insists on pushing this, we might just end up with another Bataan Nuclear Power Plant on our hands—a shiny, expensive monument to what could have been.

A lot of Filipinos have probably forgotten what was supposed to be Senior Marcos’s crowning achievement.

Instead, the project flopped and left the country with a financial hangover that just won’t quit.

Meet the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant: a shiny, 621-megawatt Westinghouse wonder that’s been sitting around collecting dust since the 80s. Built to run, but never actually turned on.

Location? Napot Point, Morong, Bataan—about 100 km from Manila, or as close as you can get to the capital without actually being useful.

This was the Philippines’ one and only shot at going nuclear. Spoiler: it didn’t exactly light up the scoreboard.

Back in 1973, the oil crisis hit and President Marcos had a lightbulb moment: why not go nuclear and stop paying other countries for oil?

What could possibly go wrong?

The dream started big—two reactors! Reality check: they signed for just one in 1976. Construction kicked off in 1976 (or maybe 1975, depending on who you ask) and finally wrapped up in 1984.

Only took most of a decade. No big deal.

Naturally, the project turned into a circus: costs ballooned, delays piled up (bonus pause after Three Mile Island because, surprise, thousands of defects), and the corruption allegations?

Kumpanyero kickback. Marcos’ buddy Herminio Disini even got a $50 million commission he later had to cough back up.

Oh, and let’s not forget the plant is basically sitting on a fault line next to a volcano. What could possibly go wrong, part two.

After the 1986 Chernobyl disaster in Ukraine and the People Power Revolution that ousted Marcos, President Corazon Aquino ordered the plant mothballed. It was never loaded with nuclear fuel or commercially operated.

The plant has been maintained in preservation mode ever since (at an annual cost often cited in the range of roughly $800,000–$1 million, or tens of millions of pesos).

There have been repeated studies and proposals for rehabilitation or conversion (including interest from South Korean entities in recent years), but it remains non-operational as of the latest available information.

Cost to Fund

Construction costs escalated dramatically from initial estimates of around $500 million (for what was originally pitched as two reactors) to a final figure commonly reported as over US$2.3 billion (or in the $1.9–2.3 billion range, depending on the source and what is included).

This made it a major burden relative to the Philippine economy and external debt at the time (it accounted for a significant share of foreign debt).

Financing came largely through loans, including from the U.S. Export-Import Bank and commercial banks.

So, ’yong tatay, sa proyektong Bataan Nuclear, gumastos ng milyon-milyong dolyar.

Inabot ng mahigit 30 years bago nabayaran ang inutang na pondo para sa proyektong hindi man lang nakapag-produce ng kahit isang kilowatt na kuryente.

Ngayon, ang anak ay nangangarap na magpalipad ng rocket papunta sa kalawakan.

Aba'y puta, panibagong utang na naman yan na aabutin ng ilang dekada na babayaran ng mamamayan.

Ang posibleng resulta ay baka kwitis lang ang katapat ng guni-guning rocket ship na pinapangarap ni dayunyor.

Nabuang na!

My golly. I heyt drugs!

Sa kanyang ikalimang State of the Nation Address (SONA), sinabi ng Pangulo na ang Cagayan ay may angkop na lokasyon at potensyal upang magsilbing pangunahing gateway ng Pilipinas para sa mga space-related activities. Nakatakdang isagawa sa susunod na taon ang isang sounding rocket launch test sa pakikipagtulungan ng isang aerospace company mula sa South Korea.

Interest and Debt Repayment

After 1986, the Philippine government kept writing checks for this plant—₱64.7 billion in total. That’s ₱43.5 billion just to pay back what we borrowed, and another ₱21.2 billion for the privilege of owing it in the first place.

(Note that interest during construction was also capitalized into the overall project cost. Earlier reports from the mid-1980s and 2000s described daily interest or debt-service burdens in the hundreds of thousands of dollars while the loans remained outstanding.)

Years to Pay Off the Loan

The Philippine government made the final payment in April 2007.

It took over 30 years to pay off—yes, you read that right. Construction kicked off in 1976, and the final bill wasn’t settled until 2007. For decades, this debt was the country’s heavyweight champion of financial burdens.

Did it ever light up a single bulb? Not even close. The plant was finished, poked and prodded with tests, and even had fuel delivered to its doorstep. But it never actually used that fuel, never officially opened, and never produced a single watt. Not one. Multiple sources agree: zero electricity.

So, what are we left with? A world-class white elephant—expensive, impressive, and utterly useless. People still argue about whether it’s worth reviving, especially now that energy is in short supply. But for now, it stands as a monument to money well wasted.

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