CHAPTER 137: INTERVIEW PART 3

"Energy?" Mel repeated. "What do you mean by that?"

"Energy, meaning electricity," Timothy said. Finally, he has a platform to express his concern over one vital thing that would make operational expenses cheaper. "Electricity is vital for any industry. The gigafactories and the semiconductor fabrication facilities draw enormous amounts of power. Do you have any idea how much?"

Mel blinked in surprise. "How much power are we talking about, exactly?"

Timothy leaned back slightly, hands clasped together. "A single gigafactory consumes around 2.5 to 3 terawatt-hours of electricity per year, that’s equivalent to the annual power usage of an entire mid-sized city. Now imagine adding multiple fabrication plants into that equation. Each semiconductor fab, depending on its size, can draw as much as 200 to 300 megawatts continuously. That’s like running several industrial zones twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week."

He continued. "To put it in perspective, the entire Philippines generates roughly 110 to 120 terawatt-hours of electricity a year. Compare that to South Korea, which produces over 580 terawatt-hours annually — and they’re a much smaller country with far less land area. The difference is staggering, and it’s not because we can’t. It’s because we haven’t."

Mel nodded slowly, trying to absorb the numbers. "So what makes that possible for them?"

"One word," Timothy said. "Nuclear."

The studio fell silent for a second.

"South Korea, Japan, the United States, China, they all rely on nuclear power. It’s clean, stable, and generates massive baseload energy. Meanwhile, here in the Philippines, we’ve spent decades arguing about it while the rest of the world advanced. We depend on imported coal and gas, and when global prices rise, so does the cost of everything, from transportation to food."

He leaned slightly forward, his voice deepening with conviction. "It’s 2027, and we still experience rotating brownouts. How can we talk about becoming an industrial power when we can’t even guarantee 24-hour electricity? Our grid isn’t just fragile, it’s outdated. Every new company, every data center, every manufacturing hub, they’re all limited by how much power they can get. That’s a cap on growth. And as long as we keep avoiding the nuclear option, that cap will stay."

Mel glanced at her notes, intrigued. "So you believe nuclear energy is the answer?"

"I believe energy independence is the answer," Timothy clarified. "But nuclear is the only realistic path there. Renewable energy is great, I support it, but wind and solar can’t sustain industrial demand alone. I know there are fears as to why we won’t operate a nuclear power plant because of accidents in Japan. Come on, that was more than a decade ago, and Japan learned from it. They didn’t abandon nuclear. They improved it. They modernized safety systems, introduced passive cooling, and even restarted their reactors because they understood something we still haven’t, fear doesn’t power cities. Progress does."

"The Philippines keeps using that fear as an excuse. We could’ve been energy independent years ago if we just had the courage to move forward. Instead, we rely on imported coal and LNG — resources we don’t even control. When international fuel prices spike, electricity bills here go up. When shipping costs rise, your groceries, your rent, your transportation — everything follows. It’s a domino effect that punishes every Filipino."

Mel nodded slowly, visibly impressed by his composure. "So, you’re saying the issue isn’t just technical, it’s systemic?"

"Exactly," Timothy replied. "We have laws like EPIRA that were meant to liberalize and improve the energy sector, but in reality, it created layers of monopolies. Generation, transmission, distribution, they’re all controlled by a few big players. There’s no real competition, and no incentive to lower prices or innovate. It’s the same structure that kept us dependent on outdated power grids while other countries moved ahead."

He gestured slightly with one hand, the studio lights reflecting off his watch. "In the U.S., they have over ninety nuclear reactors. South Korea has twenty-five. Even countries like the Czech Republic and Finland, smaller than us, rely on nuclear for stable baseload energy. But here, we’re still debating whether the idea is even ’safe.’ Meanwhile, our industries are stuck paying some of the highest electricity costs in Asia. How are we supposed to attract investors with that? Like I’m doing all the hard work here. The reason foreign companies like NVIDIA are investing in the Philippines is because of my existence. Without me, I don’t think they’ll invest here."

Mel glanced down at her notes, then back at him. "So if given the chance, would you invest in nuclear?"

Timothy didn’t hesitate. "If the government opens the door and allows private-sector participation, I’ll be the first in line."

He rose to his feet and faced the camera. "Look, I’m going to declare to you all. I will build a lot of nuclear power plants across the country. And by a lot, I mean a lot. Could be more than 20. So I need help from the government to do this. I plead that you open the doors for private initiatives to finally make it possible."

Mel blinked, almost taken aback by the boldness of his statement. "That’s... quite a declaration, Mr. Guerrero."

He nodded. "Someone has to say it. We keep talking about modernization, but we can’t modernize on unstable electricity. You can’t run data centers, semiconductor fabs, or electric vehicle plants if you’re worried about the grid failing."

"So that’s your request from the government? To help you build your nuclear power plants?" Mel asked.

"Yes," Timothy said, returning to his seat.

Mel gestured slightly with her pen. "But nuclear power is still a controversial topic in the Philippines. What do you say to those who fear it might be unsafe?"

Timothy took a breath before answering. "I’d say this: safety doesn’t come from fear. It comes from competence. We can build and operate nuclear plants that are modern, automated, and disaster-resilient. The technology exists. It’s not science fiction. Small modular reactors, for instance, can power entire cities with minimal risk — they shut down automatically during failures, require no human intervention, and produce near-zero emissions."

He paced slowly, hands folded behind his back as he continued, his voice unwavering. "People keep pointing to the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant as some failed project. But that was forty years ago. Technology has evolved tenfold since then. If we built one today using modern standards, it would be one of the safest facilities in Asia. And if we had activated Bataan when it was first completed, we wouldn’t be paying among the highest electricity prices in the region right now."

Mel nodded in agreement. "That’s true. Many analysts have said the same."

Timothy looked back toward the camera. "We need to stop treating the word ’nuclear’ like it’s taboo. The United States, France, South Korea, Japan, and even China depend on it for progress. Meanwhile, we keep burning imported coal and gas, pretending it’s cheaper, when in fact, it’s draining our economy. If we want to attract investors, create industries, and secure our future, we have to become energy independent."

My dream is for the Philippines to export power someday — not import it. I want to see our engineers running plants, our scientists developing reactors, our students believing they can change something real. But we can’t do that if we’re shackled by outdated laws and monopolies."

"Well...I can feel the passion from your voice, Mr. Guerrero. We’ll take note of it. Now, since it required government intervention, are you aware that the election is near? Next year. What are your thoughts on the political climate of the Philippines and why do you think it can be a factor for growing industry here in the country?"

Timothy breathed in. This is about to get political.