Last Sept. 30, 2025, at the end of a working day, the earth shook beneath our feet in Cebu. The first instinct was to get out, but my dad, whom I have just woken up, told me to calm down and stay still until the shaking passed.
News later broke that Bogo City bore the brunt of the earthquake, with houses cracked, heritage churches collapsing and families forced out of their homes. Being from the north myself, my thoughts immediately turned to family, relatives and friends as we checked up on them. Both provincial and city officials immediately mobilized response efforts, dispatching rescue teams and assessing the damage to restore order and provide relief.
In those few terrifying minutes, the earthquake ceased to be an abstract risk or a mere afterthought in government response and the oft-invoked “Cebuano resilience.” It became a visceral reminder that laws and plans may be in place, but no one can really predict the scale of nature’s wrath, nor guarantee safety when these systems falter.
To its credit, the Philippines has built a comprehensive legal framework for disaster risk reduction and management. Anchored on Republic Act (RA) 10121 of 2010, or the Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Act, the law promises preparedness, early warning and orderly recovery. It also emphasizes the outright avoidance of adverse impacts or prevention and the provision of emergency services and public assistance during or immediately after a disaster, which is the response.
The recent RA 12180, or the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology (Phivolcs) Modernization Act, further strengthens the country’s scientific and technical capacity to monitor, forecast and mitigate hazards such as earthquakes. It mandates the modernization of Phivolcs, including the establishment of state-of-the-art data centers, high-tech monitoring centers and public information systems to enhance disaster preparedness of such hazards. Likewise, the National Building Code and related regulations also require structures to be designed and constructed to withstand seismic events.
But the earthquake showed us the cracks not only in buildings, but in implementation. Laws, building codes, zoning rules and safety standards should be treated not as optional guidelines but as lifelines that can spell the difference between survival and tragedy.
It is just ultimately great that the leaders of the Cebu City and Cebu Provincial Governments immediately heeded the call for action after the quake, spearheading inspections and coordinating the initial response and mandates. National agencies also stepped in, while private organizations mobilized their resources. There was the urge to rush into affected areas with food, water, tents, medicines and manpower. The whole Cebu community inspired the true meaning of “bayanihan.”
But the problem lies in the need for coordination. Many private individuals, groups, and even local organizations chose to bypass Capitol or City Hall, fearing that aid would be delayed, politicized, or lost in bureaucracy. In the rush to help, some areas became congested with traffic as volunteers, vehicles and even medical personnel struggled to reach the other sitios and barangays of northern Cebu towns. In effect, even the victims struggled to claim their much-needed goods on time, as relief distribution was slowed down by confusion over coordination and delivery routes.
These experiences underscore that disaster management is not only about laws and systems, but also about people. Like the disaster reduction laws and relief distribution, the true test lies in how they work on the ground. The frameworks exist and the spirit of bayanihan is alive, but what remains is to bridge them through coordination, transparency and preparedness.
The earth will shake again — but the greater question is whether we will finally be prepared, and whether government and communities can truly move in step, in trust and in coordination.
In the end, tuum est. It is yours to decide.