What kills us in a storm isn’t always the water; sometimes, it’s the time spent waiting for answers.
The past week has shown us how dangerous that uncertainty can be. The Enhanced Habagat and the successive formation of tropical cyclones Crising, Dante, and Emong drenched much of the country. Yet, weather advisories and #WalangPasok updates were often late or unclear. In a country battered by an average of 20 typhoons each year, it’s indefensible that we still fail to communicate danger effectively.
We’ve paid for this before. On November 8, 2013, Typhoon Yolanda struck the Philippines, leaving 6,300 dead, 1,062 missing, and 28,688 injured. Most of this devastation was caused by storm surges, a term that was not widely understood at the time.
The residents of Basey, Samar, expected the same two-meter waves brought by Typhoon Undang in 1984. However, Yolanda’s storm surge reached over five meters, engulfing homes and wiping out entire communities in minutes. In Guiuan, Eastern Samar—the first town hit by the typhoon—the local disaster risk reduction management plan did not mention storm surges at all. Emergency officials also avoided the term, unsure how to explain it to their constituents.
Nearly 12 years later, that communication gap continues to endanger lives. The disarray of suspensions last July 21 proves how little we’ve learned.
Manila saw nonstop rains overnight, but the local government unit (LGU) took almost half a day to suspend classes. By then, many students had already braved the weather to attend their morning classes. This delay hits harder for those commuting from outside of Manila. Not only that, the Walang Pasok (No Classes) announcements only applied to onsite classes, misleading people into thinking there was a full cancellation.
DLSU further sowed confusion by silently editing its initial suspension post. Within 30 minutes, the status of the Manila and Rufino Campuses changed from “open as shelter” to “restricted.” This kind of backpedalling is irresponsible at best. Given how fast the University’s suspension posts circulate, a silent edit could easily go unnoticed, leaving many with outdated information.
Worse, the University’s actions reveal a concerning disregard for student welfare. Even after Malacañang directed a full suspension of classes for July 22, DLSU retained its decision to have classes online. It took three hours before they finally heeded the Palace’s directive. In those three hours, students were stuck in limbo—grappling with power outages, unstable internet, and floods outside their doors—all while the University debated if they deserved to rest.
Days later, the same pattern repeated. DLSU had announced that classes will return online tomorrow, July 25, like nothing happened. Four minutes later, the Department of Interior and Local Government (DILG) suspended classes in all levels. Still, the University doubled down on its decision. No additional updates have been given as of writing.
The University may argue that it is merely trying to preserve its academic calendar, especially with finals week approaching. But these decisions should not only be done with clarity, but also be guided with constituent welfare in mind. These learning continuity plans mean little when students cannot guarantee their own safety, let alone an internet connection for online classes.
Late and inconsistent announcements are not the only threats. A different kind of risk emerges when disaster communication turns into entertainment. Truth be told, Filipinos know how to laugh through disaster. But when official government pages, notably DILG Philippines, lace storm updates with jokes or clickbait captions for engagements, coping instead becomes performative incompetence.
That carelessness also spreads to content creators like Zac Alviz and Rosmar Tan, who once gave tone-deaf advice on floods they’ve never had to wade through. In both cases, it becomes clear that the message is no longer about public safety.
Humor can be a balm, but for those in power, accuracy is not optional. In a crisis, public officials and platforms have one job: to inform. When calamities start to feel like a spectacle, the public can be misled or grow desensitized. Warnings begin to lose their urgency. Before long, the number of displaced families, flooded homes, and lives lost became easy to scroll past.
If authorities truly care about public safety, they must begin with stronger coordination across national agencies, LGUs, academic institutions, media outlets, and vulnerable groups. Clarity is equally essential. All information should be accessible, especially in regions where Filipino or English is not commonly spoken. Education campaigns can further equip the public with the knowledge to recognize disasters before they strike.
While institutional responsibility is paramount, ordinary citizens also have a role to play. We can make a difference by sharing updates, reaching out to others, and communicating with care. These acts may seem small, but in times of crisis, they can serve as vital lifelines that keep entire communities afloat.
Those who wish to provide monetary donations for those affected by the adverse weather conditions may do so through the following channels:
Account Name: DE LA SALLE UNIVERSITY, INC.
Account Number (in PHP): 004588008272
Account Number (in USD): 104580228807
Swift Code (for USD account): BNORPHMM
Proof must be sent through forms.gle/6yQpr8ZWABdDFrNE9 for tracking.
