Unity, accountability in the wake of the Cebu quake

The magnitude 6.9 earthquake that struck Bago City, Cebu, on September 30 shook more than just the ground—it rattled a nation already grappling with the weight of corruption, poor governance, and deep regional inequalities. As the rubble is cleared and aftershocks still threaten already damaged homes and buildings, we must take stock not only of what was lost, but what can and should be rebuilt—not just physically, but morally and institutionally.

In the wake of the disaster, the usual outpouring of support has come: boxes of canned sardines, sacks of rice, instant noodles, and bottled water. These are lifelines, and we honor the kindness and generosity of Filipinos who always rally behind one another in times of need. But let’s be honest—relief efforts cannot end with short-term handouts. The people of Cebu need much more than comfort food and quick sympathy.

They need doctors and nurses on the ground, especially in isolated barangays where health centers are few and far between. They need medical supplies in bulk to treat injuries and prevent disease outbreaks. Damaged homes and critical infrastructure require construction materials, engineers, and skilled laborers. Communities must be reconnected to water and power supplies—not just patched together, but restored with resilience in mind.

This is where the real test begins—not for the victims, but for the institutions tasked to help them. Government support must not fade with media coverage. Too often, help trickles in during the first week, then fades away as news cameras move to the next tragedy or controversy. True recovery takes months, even years. The national government, particularly the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD), Department of Health (DOH), and the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH), must be held accountable for sustained, effective aid—not just token visits and press releases.

Surprisingly, the earthquake did not expose widespread failures in Cebu’s roads, bridges, or public buildings. That, in itself, is a testament to the competence of local planning—or perhaps, a stroke of divine mercy. But even as Cebuanos rebuild, this quake offers a sobering lesson in humility. Cebu, proud of its cultural heritage and sometimes vocal in challenging the political centrality of Manila, must remember that nature respects no seat of power. Pride can be a strength, but it must not blind leaders to the shared vulnerabilities we all face.

Yet, while we fixate on the natural disaster, let us not lose sight of the man-made ones that still fester. The massive flood control corruption scandal—featuring ghost projects, greedycontractors, and questionable DPWH spending—cannot be swept aside. It is disturbing how quickly attention has shifted. Some high-profile lawmakers are now pointing fingers at each other, and the few investigations that are underway seem more performative than sincere. The DPWH Secretary’s solo visits to questionable sites, while commendable, are insufficient. Where is the full force of government in rooting out systemic abuse?

The Cebu quake must not be used as a convenient distraction from these ongoing issues. In fact, it should serve as a reminder of what is truly at stake: the people’s trust in their leaders and institutions. Infrastructure must not only withstand calamity—it must be free from corruption and built with integrity. Relief must not only be immediate—it must be sustained, efficient, and just.

Disasters reveal both our fragility and our strength. Let the tragedy in Bago City be a wake-up call—not just to rebuild structures, but to rebuild systems, restore accountability, and renew our collective commitment to each other as a nation. Let us not be united only by calamity, but by a shared resolve to rise, not just from rubble, but from rot.