๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐
๐๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ฒ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ข๐๐ก ๐. ๐๐ฅ๐๐ ๐๐ง๐จ
โ๐๐๐ฒ๐ ๐ง๐๐ญ๐ข๐ง โ๐ญ๐จ!โ
These three words have become a mantra for the Filipino people, echoing during every calamity. Theyโre uttered with such conviction as though they alone have the power to rebuild shattered homes, mend broken lives, and overcome disasters.
Imagine this: A family stranded on their rooftop as floodwaters surge around them. By dawn, theyโve lost everything, yet they muster a smile and say, โKaya namin โto.โ
This is the Filipino spiritโresilient, unyielding, almost indestructible. But hereโs the truth: Resilience has become a band-aid slapped over a festering wound. Itโs no longer a choice but a cruel necessity born out of a broken systemโa system where the government perpetually fails to protect its people.
Accountability Over Platitudes
Year after year, calamities strike the Philippines. And year after year, we hear the same tired promises: โ๐๐๐๐๐ง๐ ๐จ๐ง ๐ญ๐๐ฒ๐จ ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ข.โ But have we paused to ask why we are always the ones rebuilding? Why the does governmentโs response to disaster seem stuck on repeatโgrand speeches, fleeting relief operations, and empty promises of โbetter systemsโ that never materialize? Who is held accountable for the billions lost, the lives destroyed, and the suffering endured? Where is the government when itโs time to act instead of talk?
The glorification of Filipino resilience has turned into a convenient alibi. It absolves those in power of their responsibility to protect and serve. Every shattered home becomes a photo op. Every donation drive, a headline. Every tragedy, an opportunity to highlight the so-called strength of the Filipino people while the underlying problems remain untouched.
Take a closer look at the aftermath of disasters. Funds meant for disaster preparedness vanish into thin air. Evacuation centers overflow while leaders post curated social media updates about their โrelief efforts.โ Infrastructure crumbles because they prioritize grandiose projects over those that genuinely serve the vulnerable. Itโs the same story, over and over again.
But people are waking up. In a society that once prided itself on resilience, the narrative is shifting. No longer satisfied with just surviving, Filipinos are demanding more. Social media is brimming with voices calling for systemic change, accountability, and long-term solutions. โBakit palaging kami na lang?โ they ask. And rightfully so.
The Cost of Government Neglect
Super Typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda) should have been a wake-up call. Over 6,000 lives were lost, and damages soared to $12โ15 billion, with over one million homes destroyed (Laborte, 2022). In some areas, such as Samar, up to 90% of water wells were contaminated with seawater, leaving families without drinkable water. Yet, nearly a decade later, Samar and Leyte remain some of the most underserved provinces, with residents still lacking basic needs like clean water, reliable energy, and adequate housing (Laborte, 2022).
Project NOAH, once the Philippinesโ flagship disaster prevention program, aimed to provide critical data for disaster preparedness and mitigation. It was a symbol of hope for a more disaster-resilient nation. However, in 2017, it was shut down due to “lack of funds,” despite its proven impact. The programโs executive director even lamented the loss of skilled personnel and months of unpaid wages, underscoring the governmentโs misplaced priorities (Laborte, 2022). What does this decision say about the governmentโs commitment to disaster preparedness?
The failures donโt end there. Despite the existence of agencies like the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC), over 370,000 people were displaced by Super Typhoon Goni (Rolly) in 2020 alone. Nearly 90% of buildings in Virac, Catanduanes, were destroyed, illustrating how unprepared communities remain for the intensifying storms brought by climate change (Laborte, 2022).
The psychological toll of disasters is equally staggering. Displacement causes profound mental and emotional distress, disrupting community bonds and amplifying existing inequalities. Research shows that low-income families, who often live in makeshift housing in disaster-prone areas, suffer disproportionately. Frequent evacuations, loss of livelihood, and the lack of formal support systems exacerbate these challenges, turning disasters into prolonged cycles of trauma (Laborte, 2022).
This isnโt just neglectโitโs systemic failure. A government that cannot safeguard its people from predictable calamities or mitigate the impacts of climate change is complicit in their suffering. The billions lost, the lives disrupted, and the futures stolen are not just tragediesโthey are the result of choices made by those in power.
Resilience as Exploitation
Enough of the romanticization of Filipino resilience. Letโs be honest: what we call “resilience” has become a weaponized narrativeโa tool to excuse incompetence, justify neglect, and keep the people trapped in an endless cycle of suffering. Every time we rise after a calamity, our so-called “strength” is paraded as proof that we donโt need the systems, support, or accountability we deserve. But this isnโt strength; itโs survival. And survival born out of abandonment is not something to celebrate.
Resilience should empower, not exploit. It should mean communities equipped with disaster-proof housing, a government that prioritizes safety, and systems that mitigate risks before they become catastrophes. It should mean breaking the cycle of disaster, recovery, and lossโnot normalizing it.
Take Japan as an example. After the devastating 2011 Tohoku earthquake, the Japanese government didnโt just patch things up; they transformed their approach to disaster management. They rebuilt stronger, invested in advanced warning systems, and prioritized public education on disaster preparedness. Today, the communities affected by that tragedy stand more resilient than ever.
Why canโt the Philippines do the same? Why are we still tolerating substandard infrastructure that crumbles under the weight of typhoons? Why are disaster preparedness programs underfunded or outright dismantled? Why are the most vulnerable Filipinos forced to rebuild their lives again and again, knowing itโs only a matter of time before the next calamity strikes?
The truth is glaring: we are stuck in this endless cycle of destruction and reconstruction because our leaders have chosen to keep us there. Itโs easier for them to applaud our resilience than to address the systemic failures that leave us exposed. Itโs easier to romanticize our survival than to take responsibility for creating a future where survival isnโt our only option.
This isnโt resilience. This is exploitation. And itโs time we demand better.
Enough is Enough
Filipino resilience is a remarkable trait, but it has been twisted into an excuse for government incompetence. We are tired of enduring calamities we could have been protected from. We are tired of leaders who praise our survival while failing to do their jobs. Resilience should be a choiceโa strength we call upon when needed, not a necessity forced upon us by neglect.
We demand better. No more empty promises. No more romanticized suffering. We deserve leaders who prioritize preparedness over excuses, accountability over rhetoric, and genuine service over photo ops. Our resilience should not absolve them of their duty to safeguard our lives and futures.
The Filipino people deserve more than survivalโwe deserve safety, dignity, and progress. Let “Kaya natin ‘to” become a declaration of empowerment, not a desperate cry for endurance. Let our leaders know: enough is enough.
Filipinos are resilientโbut should we always have to be?
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