This article examines how the convergence of climate change, ecological degradation, systemic corruption, and extractive development has intensified disaster vulnerability across the Philippines. The overlapping crises of the September 2025 Cebu earthquake, Typhoon Tino (Kalmaegi), and Super Typhoon Uwan (Fung-wong) illustrate how natural hazards become catastrophic when weakened environmental systems and compromised public institutions fail to protect communities. Decades of forest loss, mining expansion, substandard infrastructure, and corruption in flood-control projects have eroded natural defenses from ridges to reefs. The article analyzes the political economy of disaster, the failures of the National Greening Program, the repression of environmental defenders, and the fragmentation of disaster governance. It argues for structural reforms—strengthened anti-corruption mechanisms, a National Land Use Act, climate accountability, alternative mineral management, protection for environmental defenders, and transparent procurement systems. At the same time, it highlights Indigenous ecological systems, community-led resilience networks, and innovative local governance initiatives as pathways to transformative, justice-centered climate governance. The piece concludes that rising from the ruins requires ecological restoration, democratic participation, and decisive action against corruption to ensure a livable future for generations to come.
Across the Philippines, the intensifying cycle of disasters continues to reveal a profound structural truth: natural hazards become mass-casualty events not solely because of climatic extremes, but because of institutional decay, systemic corruption, environmental degradation, and longstanding governance failures that undermine resilience from the ridges to the reefs. This convergence of climate vulnerability and political dysfunction has turned ordinary weather disturbances and geological movements into nationwide catastrophes. Scientific warnings about the accelerating impacts of global warming—circulating for over three decades—have materialized in forms that communities now experience with increasing frequency and severity. Warmer oceans fuel rapid storm intensification, while a hotter atmosphere holds more moisture, leading to unprecedented rainfall and flooding across river basins and coastal towns.¹
At the same time, emerging research suggests that the melting of global ice sheets may also influence tectonic dynamics as the reduction of surface pressure alters stresses on the Earth’s crust.² Such complex geophysical interactions intersect with the Philippines’ already-fragile landscape, shaped by unregulated resource extraction, weakened ecosystems, and political institutions that have failed to implement and sustain effective environmental governance. The consequences of this convergence became tragically clear in the final quarter of 2025 when the country faced a series of overlapping disasters: the Magnitude 6.9 Cebu earthquake in September, Typhoon Tino (Kalmaegi) on 4 November, and Super Typhoon Uwan (Fung-wong) on 9 November.
These events collectively exposed the depth of unpreparedness and the structural vulnerabilities that have accumulated over decades. In Cebu, the September earthquake killed 79 people, injured 559, and affected more than 747,000 individuals.³ The quake damaged or destroyed over 134,000 houses and caused infrastructure losses amounting to ₱6.76 billion. Barely a month later, Typhoon Tino brought torrential rain, widespread flooding, and mudflows that overwhelmed communities across the Visayas. It resulted in at least 224 deaths, 109 missing individuals, and extensive damage affecting more than 3.3 million people.⁴ The subsequent onslaught of Super Typhoon Uwan displaced 1.4 million people and affected an estimated 30 million nationwide, cutting off power, telecommunication lines, and transport routes as entire barangays were submerged under floodwaters.⁵
The scale of devastation from these successive disasters was not simply a result of meteorological hazards. Rather, it reflected systemic neglect, corruption, and environmental destruction that have weakened the country’s defenses and deepened public vulnerability.
The Anatomy of a Disaster: Structural Vulnerabilities, Old Patterns, and Unlearned Lessons
The impacts of the 2025 disasters mirror patterns that have been observed repeatedly in the past decade. Super Typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda) in 2013—one of the deadliest storms in global history—exposed the consequences of eroded mangrove buffers, inadequate land-use planning, and unprepared coastal communities. Twelve years later, the same structural weaknesses persist, demonstrating that many of the lessons from Yolanda remained unimplemented. Much of the country’s natural protection systems remain compromised, and disaster-mitigation policies continue to be fragmented, inconsistent, and vulnerable to political interference.
Central to the Philippines’ disaster risk is the degradation of ecological systems that provide natural defense. Deforested slopes, silted rivers, and weakened watersheds increase the likelihood of landslides and flash floods during periods of intense rainfall. Public infrastructure—bridges, drainage systems, flood-control channels, and evacuation centers—has not kept pace with worsening climate risks or rapid urbanization. In many cases, infrastructure has not failed by accident, but through deliberate corruption, substandard construction, and diversion of funds.
An estimated 421 flood-control projects, reported as “completed” in national government records, were discovered to be nonexistent.⁶ Billions of pesos intended for river dredging, slope protection, and drainage improvement were absorbed by contractors who maintained political connections, often executing substandard work or leaving project sites unfinished before claiming full payment. Some estimates indicate that kickbacks range from 30 to 40 percent of total project cost, creating incentives for officials and contractors to prioritize volume of projects over quality and long-term utility.⁷ These patterns underscore how corruption directly contributes to climate-related disaster risk.
The National Greening Program: A Case Study in Failed Environmental Governance
The National Greening Program (NGP), launched in 2011 and extended to 2028, was originally envisioned as an ambitious initiative to restore degraded forestlands and improve the country’s ecological stability. With an allocation of ₱47 billion between 2011 and 2019, it was intended to be one of the largest reforestation efforts in Southeast Asia.⁸ Instead, it became a prominent example of environmental governance failure, marred by allegations of falsified accomplishments, ghost beneficiaries, low tree survival rates, and the inappropriate use of exotic tree species.
Rather than rehabilitating native forests and strengthening watershed ecosystems, many NGP projects prioritized commercial plantations—such as falcata, mahogany and gmelina—that are ecologically incompatible with many local landscapes. These species provide limited soil protection, reduce biodiversity, and may worsen erosion, particularly on steep slopes.⁹ Investigations by the Commission on Audit (COA) and environmental organizations documented repeated cases of saplings planted out of season, seedlings left to die without maintenance, and reforestation sites converted into monocrop plantations.¹⁰
The failure of the NGP must be understood not only in terms of technical mismanagement but also in terms of the broader political economy that incentivizes extractive development. In the absence of stringent regulation, mining companies, agribusiness conglomerates, and real-estate developers expanded their operations into forestlands and ancestral territories, undermining restoration efforts and displacing Indigenous communities. These pressures, combined with political interference in the allocation of NGP funds, weakened the program’s capacity to deliver ecological restoration on a national scale.
As deforestation, river siltation, and watershed degradation intensify, communities face heightened flood and landslide risks. The repeated collapse of slopes in mountainous areas during Typhoon Tino and Super Typhoon Uwan mirrored earlier disasters in Mindanao, including those during Typhoon Pablo (Bopha) in 2012, where illegal logging and mining aggravated the death toll.¹¹ The recurrence of these disasters reflects unresolved governance failures that extend across multiple administrations.
Extractive Development and the Deepening Ecological Crisis in Mindanao
Mindanao’s environmental crises cannot be understood without examining the intensification of extractive industries that have reshaped the island’s landscape and social fabric. Over the past three decades, the region has become a focal point for mining expansion, logging operations—both legal and illicit—and export-oriented monocrop plantations. These activities have disproportionately affected Indigenous Peoples’ territories, watersheds, and coastal ecosystems. In each case, the political economy of extraction has been facilitated by state policies, lax enforcement, and political patronage that allow destructive practices to proliferate.
The Caraga Region, for instance, has long been referred to as the “mining capital of the Philippines,” hosting some of the country’s largest nickel, iron, and gold concessions.¹² The proliferation of mining projects has coincided with widespread forest loss, river siltation, and soil erosion. Satellite imagery and geological assessments show that mining-induced deforestation has contributed significantly to downstream flooding and landslides, especially in communities located along river corridors.¹³ These environmental changes intensify during heavy rainfall events and tropical cyclones, placing both upland Indigenous communities and downstream farming households at elevated risk.
This extractive model is not limited to mining. Large-scale monocrop plantations—including oil palm, banana, and pineapple—have replaced forested areas and mixed-agriculture systems with industrial agribusiness landscapes. These plantations rely heavily on agrochemicals that leach into waterways, impacting soil fertility and contaminating drinking water sources for rural villages. When typhoons or prolonged rainfall occur, chemically contaminated floodwaters spread into agricultural zones and residential areas, magnifying health and environmental impacts.
The Masara landslide in Maco, Davao de Oro, on February 6, 2024, illustrates the intersection between mining, land instability, and weak regulatory oversight. The landslide killed 98 people, buried several homes, and displaced hundreds.¹⁴ It echoed earlier tragedies in the same area, including the 2008 and 2012 landslides that occurred near active mining zones. Communities affected by these events have repeatedly raised concerns about slope destabilization, blasting operations, and inadequate environmental compliance, yet these concerns have rarely resulted in sustained regulatory action. The persistence of disasters in mining-intensive zones demonstrates the cumulative impact of long-term extraction on geological stability.
Despite the ecological and social costs of extraction, the mining industry contributes only a marginal share to the national economy—0.72 percent of GDP as of 2023—and generates tax revenues far below the environmental and humanitarian costs incurred by local communities.¹⁵ This disproportionate relationship between profit and destruction underscores how extractive development serves elite and corporate interests rather than the broader public good. Political families, foreign mining firms, and Manila-based conglomerates remain primary beneficiaries, while Indigenous communities bear the brunt of environmental harm.
Despite a 2011 ban on natural forest logging, the Philippines continues to lose significant forest cover. Poor enforcement facilitates the stripping of forests for mining and commercial plantations, a conversion practice directly linked to increased flood risk. A 9-year mining ban was originally issued by President Benigno Aquino III in 2012 which imposed moratorium on new mining permits until a new revenue sharing was established. Based on this, strong attempt at reform by then DENR Secretary Gina Lopez (2016 2017) to suspend was ultimately defeated by powerful corporate lobbyists and politicians, cementing the nation’s commitment to more worst disasters. Months before his term ended (2021), former President Duterte lifted the moratorium without pursuing the reviews and assessments.
Dispossession, Red-Tagging, and the Silencing of Environmental and Land Defenders
The expansion of extractive industries in Mindanao is intertwined with the repression of environmental and land rights defenders, a situation that has made the Philippines one of the deadliest countries for activists worldwide. For 12 consecutive years, the country has ranked as Asia’s most dangerous nation for environmental defenders.¹⁶ Killings, enforced disappearances, harassment, and judicial persecution have been documented extensively by civil society organizations, human rights institutions, and global watchdog groups.
The violence disproportionately affects Indigenous Peoples, whose ancestral domains are often targeted for mining, dam construction, energy projects, and plantation expansion. Many of these communities rely on customary governance systems and ancestral knowledge to protect ecosystems, but these systems are undermined by militarization, political pressure, and land grabs facilitated through fraudulent Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC) processes. Armed groups—including state forces, paramilitary units, and private security personnel—have been implicated in forced evictions, intimidation, and attacks on leaders resisting resource extraction.¹⁷
Red-tagging or terror-tagging has become a powerful tool used by state agencies to delegitimize community resistance and criminalize environmental activism. Organizations advocating for climate justice, Indigenous rights, and environmental protection are often falsely accused of supporting insurgent movements. Such accusations serve to intimidate communities, justify militarized operations, and suppress legitimate dissent. The implementation of the Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020 has intensified these risks, enabling broader surveillance, warrantless arrests, and asset freezes based on unsubstantiated allegations.¹⁸
The consequences of this shrinking civic space extend beyond immediate security threats. When defenders are silenced, ecosystems lose their most committed stewards. Indigenous communities have historically maintained some of the country’s last intact forests and watersheds; their displacement, disempowerment, or criminalization directly contributes to ecological collapse. Moreover, the targeting of grassroots leaders weakens the social infrastructure necessary for climate adaptation and disaster risk reduction. Communities under threat cannot prepare for typhoons, landslides, or flooding if they are simultaneously defending themselves from legal harassment, militarization, or displacement.
Environmental Destruction as a Form of Structural Violence
The interlocking crises of extraction, militarization, and environmental degradation constitute a form of structural violence that places communities in a perpetual state of vulnerability. Deforested mountains funnel floodwaters into lowland towns. Polluted rivers reduce freshwater access and contaminate food sources. Mining-induced siltation undermines fisheries and damages coral reefs, threatening coastal livelihoods. Meanwhile, the failure of state institutions to regulate or penalize destructive practices signals to corporations and political actors that environmental laws may be violated with impunity.
These dynamics were evident during Typhoon Tino and Super Typhoon Uwan, when landslides and flash floods occurred in numerous upland barangays located near mining, quarrying, or plantation zones. In many areas, communities reported that slopes previously stable had begun to collapse after years of logging and land conversion. The weakening of ecological foundations—forest cover, watershed systems, riverbanks, and mangrove forests—continues to magnify the effects of climate hazards, transforming natural events into large-scale humanitarian crises.
Environmental destruction therefore operates not merely as a byproduct of development but as a systemic condition that shapes the lived realities of millions. Communities whose lands have been opened to extraction experience both ecological damage and political marginalization. Their displacement or impoverishment is not accidental but linked to deliberate political decisions that prioritize short-term profit and elite capture over public safety and long-term ecological health.
Corruption, Infrastructure Failure, and the Erosion of Public Trust
The 2025 disasters underscored how corruption has become a central determinant of the scale and severity of destruction in the Philippines. As rain intensified, rivers overflowed, and landslides occurred, communities confronted not only environmental hazards but the consequences of decades of systemic plunder. Public infrastructure—intended to serve as protection against extreme weather—collapsed or proved nonexistent. Flood-control channels had been left unbuilt, embankments were constructed with substandard materials, and drainage systems clogged due to insufficient maintenance and incomplete works. These failures are not isolated incidents but the result of a governance system shaped by political patronage, opaque procurement processes, and widespread impunity for officials engaged in graft.
In 2024, the Commission on Audit documented at least 421 flood-control projects reported as “completed” despite no physical structures existing on-site.¹⁹ This pattern of ghost projects—alongside substandard construction, overpricing, and repeated variations of cost—has been identified across multiple regions. The Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism found that billions of pesos in public works funds had been siphoned off through collusion between contractors and local or national officials, with kickbacks reportedly reaching 30–40 percent of project value.²⁰ These practices persist because procurement systems remain vulnerable to manipulation, and auditing mechanisms are often weakened by political interference. The resulting infrastructure is frequently incapable of withstanding even moderate rainfall, much less the intensifying typhoons associated with climate change.
The collapse of infrastructure during Typhoon Tino and Super Typhoon Uwan reflected these governance failures. Communities in Cebu, Eastern Visayas, and parts of MIMAROPA reported the failure of newly built bridges and river walls that had deteriorated within months of construction.²¹ Evacuation centers, in some towns, lacked proper ventilation, sanitation, or space, forcing families into overcrowded schools and municipal buildings unfit for prolonged shelter. The inability of the state to provide reliable, climate-resilient public infrastructure deepened public distrust and exposed the fragility of governance systems that are supposed to safeguard communities.
Corruption in disaster management is not confined to infrastructure. Procurement of relief goods has long been marred by overpricing, low-quality materials, and irregularities in logistics.²² Communities affected by the 2025 disasters reported delays in receiving assistance, while local officials were accused of selectively distributing relief based on political loyalties. Such inequities further entrench marginalization, particularly for households already living in poverty or residing in geographically isolated communities. In many cases, these families are also those who experience the worst impacts of climate disasters.
The Political Economy of Disaster: When Profit Shapes Vulnerability
The recurring nature of disaster-related corruption reveals how vulnerability is shaped by political and economic structures rather than by natural forces alone. Disaster has become a lucrative opportunity for political actors who benefit from contracts, emergency procurement, and budget allocations for rehabilitation.²³ The elasticity of emergency spending provides a pathway for inflated contracts, bypassed procurement rules, and rapid release of funds with minimal oversight. This cycle allows corruption to flourish precisely during moments of heightened community suffering.
These political dynamics also shape which communities receive protection and which remain vulnerable. Urban centers and affluent districts tend to receive more robust flood-control investments, while rural towns, informal settlements, and Indigenous areas are frequently neglected.²⁴ This uneven distribution of infrastructure and social protection reflects broader inequalities embedded in the national development framework. Communities living along riverbanks, coastal zones, or mountainous slopes—where poverty rates are higher—are often left with weak or nonexistent disaster-mitigation systems. Their vulnerabilities are political, not natural.
The political economy of disaster is further complicated by pork-barrel politics embedded in national budgets. Despite repeated attempts to eliminate the Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF), discretionary insertions continue to proliferate in national budgets through “congressional initiatives,” “special provisions,” and “line-item insertions” that are difficult to audit.²⁵ A significant portion of these insertions is directed toward local infrastructure projects, many of which fall under flood control and multipurpose buildings—sectors that historically exhibit the highest corruption risks. As a result, disaster risk reduction becomes entangled with political patronage systems, weakening the effectiveness and transparency of climate adaptation efforts.
Institutional Fragmentation and Governance Breakdown
The disasters of 2025 also highlighted the fragmented and often contradictory nature of disaster governance in the Philippines. Responsibilities for climate adaptation and disaster risk reduction are distributed across multiple agencies—the NDRRMC, DILG, DPWH, DENR, DSWD, and local government units—resulting in overlapping mandates, inconsistent implementation, and gaps in coordination.²⁶ Such fragmentation leads to delays in response, conflicts over jurisdiction, and inefficiencies in resource allocation.
Local governments, while mandated to take the lead in disaster preparedness, often lack adequate resources, technical expertise, and access to real-time data. Many LGUs depend on outdated hazard maps, insufficient early-warning systems, and limited geohazard assessments from national agencies. Although community-based disaster risk reduction frameworks exist, their implementation remains uneven due to insufficient funding and weak institutional support.²⁷
Climate adaptation planning is further undermined by short-term political cycles. Local chief executives with three-year terms often prioritize visible infrastructure projects over long-term resilience measures such as river rehabilitation, mangrove restoration, and land-use planning reforms. These short-term political incentives conflict with the long-term nature of climate adaptation and ecosystem restoration. Moreover, frequent turnover of local officials disrupts continuity in disaster-preparedness programs, resulting in communities entering hazard seasons with incomplete or abandoned resilience projects.
The national government’s approach to disaster management has also been criticized for its heavy reliance on post-disaster response, rather than pre-disaster planning and risk reduction.²⁸ Investment in early-warning systems, community evacuation planning, and preventive infrastructure has lagged behind the increasing frequency and intensity of disasters. At the national level, budget allocations for disaster risk reduction remain small relative to expenditures on reconstruction and relief.
The Need for Structural, Not Incremental, Reform
The long-term solution to the country’s vulnerability cannot be limited to incremental improvements. Structural reforms are needed to address the root causes of corruption, ecological degradation, and institutional fragility. A fundamental shift in governance is required—one that reorients public institutions toward transparency, community participation, ecological restoration, and long-term resilience.
One key reform is revising the Anti-Graft and Corrupt Practices Act to classify ghost projects and substandard infrastructure as prima facie evidence of corruption, enabling faster investigation and prosecution.²⁹ Equally important is the establishment of an independent infrastructure anti-corruption commission with prosecutorial powers and fully public reporting mechanisms. This body would have the mandate to conduct real-time audits of DPWH projects, monitor procurement, and investigate discrepancies in physical accomplishments.
Transparency in procurement must also be strengthened. Beneficial ownership disclosure is critical to preventing contractors linked to political families from securing government projects through front companies.³⁰ Public access to all project documents—including contracts, progress reports, and budget allocations—should be institutionalized across all agencies involved in disaster-related spending.
A long-delayed but essential reform is the passage of the National Land Use Act (NLUA), which would establish a binding national framework for ridge-to-reef planning, enforce geohazard zoning, and regulate conversion of agricultural and forest lands.³¹ The absence of such a law has allowed uncontrolled urbanization, hazardous settlements, and environmentally destructive land-use decisions to proliferate across local government units. Legislation like stricter responsibility and accountability for polluters, big corporate and emitters destroying communities and the global ecosystem shall be passed (Climate Accountability), and that the Philippine Mining Act must be repealed with the long-time proposed Alternative Mineral Management Bill as a replacement.
At the same time, protection mechanisms for environmental and human-rights defenders must be institutionalized. Clear penalties for red-tagging, unlawful surveillance, and harassment are necessary to ensure that communities resisting destructive development can do so without fear. Indigenous Peoples’ Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC) must be fully respected and strengthened, not circumvented through coercion or fraud.
Grassroots Resistance and Community-Led Alternatives
Even as extractive policies, corruption, and ecological degradation continue to shape the country’s vulnerability, communities across the Philippines are building powerful alternatives rooted in ecological stewardship, democratic participation, and collective resilience. These emerging models challenge the dominant capitalist development paradigm by demonstrating that sustainable and equitable pathways are possible even in the face of systemic adversity.
Across Mindanao, Indigenous communities have preserved time-honored ecological systems that provide a holistic framework for managing land, water, and community life. The Suragad of the Erumanen Ne Menuvu’, the Sulagad system practiced by the Teduray and Lambangian peoples, and the Koho system of the Tinananen tribes each represent deeply integrated socio-political, cultural, and environmental worldviews.³² While the modern society may mistakenly label practices as “backward”, these systems represent an advanced form of social organization that emphasize collective decision-making, rotational farming, forest conservation, watershed protection, and harmonious relations with nonhuman life. They challenge the extractivist logic that underpins state policies by centering ecological balance, communal responsibility, and long-term sustainability over short-term resource extraction.
Similarly, local government units have demonstrated that genuine ecological governance is possible when political leadership prioritizes environmental integrity and social welfare with spaces for people’s criticisms and participation. The Municipality of Sibagat in Agusan del Sur stands out for integrating Organic Agriculture (OA) as a core development principle.³³ This achievement was through a strong multi-sectoral collaboration of farmers and civil society advocacy organizations and the local government unit. Sibagat has developed programs that support agroecology, community enterprises, and climate-resilient livelihoods. The municipality now hosts the first certified organic agriculture inspectors in Caraga Region and has institutionalized cross-cutting approaches that link rural development, environmental protection, health and nutrition, local governance, and community planning. There is also a notable rise in numbers and enthusiasms of young people in farming and environmental advocacy.
Community-led efforts also extend to the strengthening of local disaster preparedness and participatory governance. People’s Councils in Naga City, Pasig City, and Quezon City provide institutionalized spaces for civil society organizations to participate in local decision-making, monitor budgets, and propose policy interventions.³⁴ Local Freedom of Information (FOI) ordinances allow citizens to scrutinize public spending, infrastructure contracts, and development plans—undermining the secrecy that often facilitates corruption. These mechanisms not only empower communities but also enhance transparency and accountability in local governance.
In Mindanao, the Tri-People Food Sovereignty and Peace Partners have developed integrated approaches that combine agroecology, rights-based disaster response, conflict transformation, and climate justice.³⁵ Their work demonstrates that resilience is not simply a technical endeavor but a political and social process anchored in addressing inequality, protecting human rights, and ensuring that communities have the means to shape their own future. As a movement, the groups organized agrarian reform beneficiaries to fight for legal land tenure while adopting organic farming techniques; farmers and fisherfolk are trained in integrated ecological practices for sustainable agriculture and the restoration of coastal/marine resources; they tapped schools to champion organic and environmental advocacies among students; they helped counter dependence on local debtors by promoting seed-saving and homemade farm inputs, while encouraging investment from Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs); organized and strengthened social enterprises by linking community producers directly to organized urban consumers, labor groups, and the urban poor; stood with indigenous peoples and environmental activists in the campaign against extractive and petrochemical industry; and trained community leaders and organizations to engage government special and local bodies to push policy reforms (like banning of pesticides and establishment of marine protected areas) and access more government supports. And it is important to highlight in all these the strategic and vital roles played by women, youth and the LGBTQIA+s.
Similarly, a humanitarian network that emerged in the aftermath of Typhoons Sendong and Pablo in Mindanao has since developed a distinctive, integrated framework for intervention. At the center of the Multi-Stakeholders Initiative for Humanitarian Actions against Disasters (MIHANDs) is a holistic approach that weaves together humanitarian response, human rights protection, peacebuilding, and environmental stewardship across all phases of crisis work—response, recovery, rehabilitation, and resilience-building.
Since its formation during the response to Typhoon Sendong, MIHANDs has placed strong emphasis on survivor-led action. Rather than limiting participation to conventional forms of community consultation or advocacy, the network actively supports disaster-affected communities in asserting their rights and shaping decision-making processes. Survivor empowerment is cultivated through practices that build solidarity and collective agency—such as community kitchens, survivors’ councils, and survivor-volunteers—which enable affected populations to move from passive recipients of aid to independent, organized actors capable of guiding their own recovery.
These examples indicate that the Philippines is not lacking in models for ecological governance or community-led resilience. What is lacking is a national governance framework capable of supporting, scaling, and institutionalizing these approaches, rather than undermining them through destructive policies, corporate capture, and militarization.
Toward a Transformative Horizon: Reimagining Governance and Ecology
The convergence of disasters in 2025—earthquake, typhoons, landslides, and floods—reveals the urgent need for a profound transformation in the country’s political and ecological systems. The current trajectory, defined by extractive industries, environmental plunder, climate vulnerability, and systemic corruption, is untenable. Rising temperatures, intensifying storms, and escalating geohazards will only magnify existing inequalities unless fundamental changes are pursued.
A transformative approach begins with recognizing that climate justice is inseparable from social justice, and that environmental collapse is tied to political structures enabling elite dominance, opaque governance, and unsustainable development.³⁶ Institutional reforms must therefore be accompanied by shifts in political power, economic priorities, and societal values. Ecological restoration must be understood not merely as technical reforestation but as the rebalancing of relationships between communities and their environments. Watersheds, forests, coastlines, and marine ecosystems must be restored through participatory processes rooted in scientific knowledge, Indigenous wisdom, and community-led governance.
Key components of a transformative horizon include the strengthening of public institutions, the protection of environmental defenders, the democratization of land-use planning, and the institutionalization of participatory governance. Communities must have meaningful control over local development plans, watershed management, coastal resource use, and disaster-preparedness strategies. National and local governments must invest heavily in scientifically informed, climate-resilient infrastructure while ensuring that procurement systems are transparent, accountable, and resistant to political manipulation.
Equally crucial is the dismantling of structures that enable systematic corruption. The country’s future resilience depends on public trust in institutions, and public trust can only be rebuilt when corruption is confronted decisively and comprehensively. Whistleblower protections, stronger auditing mechanisms, open contracting, and independent oversight bodies are essential components of this shift.³⁷ Without structural anti-corruption reforms, no disaster risk reduction strategy can succeed.
Moreover, economic strategies must prioritize localized food systems,
community-based resource management, and regenerative livelihoods over
large-scale extractive industries. Agroecology, sustainable fisheries,
diversified farming systems, and Indigenous land governance are not only
ecologically sound but also offer more reliable long-term resilience
compared to mining or monocrop plantations, which produce short-term
profits at the expense of long-term ecological harm.
Conclusion: Rising from the Ruins
From the ridges to the reefs, the bodies of water that sustain communities to the mountains that protect them, the Philippines stands at a historic crossroads. The disasters of 2025 did not simply expose natural hazards; they revealed the deeper fractures within the country’s governance, economy, and ecological systems. These crises must be understood not as isolated events but as the consequence of choices made, and unmade, across generations.
Communities continue to resist, rebuild, and reimagine their futures, offering models of ecological stewardship and democratic governance that challenge the extractive status quo. Indigenous systems, local government innovations, social movements, and humanitarian networks provide tangible evidence that alternative futures are not only possible but already emerging. These collective efforts form the backbone of a nationwide resistance against environmental destruction, corruption, and authoritarian development.
The path forward requires more than recovery or adaptation; it demands transformation. It requires the recognition that public safety, ecological health, and democratic governance are inseparable. It requires a national commitment to protect defenders, restore ecosystems, confront corruption, and empower communities. Most importantly, it requires the political will to build a future where lives are no longer sacrificed to the convergence of climate hazards and governance failures.
The struggle continues across the archipelago - in villages, river basins, mountainsides, coastal barangays, and ancestral lands. Rising from the ruins requires collective courage, ecological imagination, and a governance system genuinely accountable to the people. The stakes extend far beyond the present moment: they encompass the very possibility of a livable future for generations to come.
Rise from these ruins!
Mindanao, Philippines
13 November 2025
IIRE-Philippines, Sumpay Mindanao, Kilusang Maralita sa Kanayunan [Rural Poor Movement] and Lanao Alliance of Human Rights Advocates
Footnotes
¹ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), Sixth Assessment Report: Impacts, Adaptation and Vulnerability (2022).
² Simon Klemperer, “Tectonic Responses to Glacial Melting,” Nature Geoscience 14, no. 4 (2021).
³ National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC), “Situation Report on the 2025 Cebu Earthquake,” 2025.
⁴ NDRRMC, “Typhoon Tino (Kalmaegi) Final Report,” 2025.
⁵ NDRRMC, “Super Typhoon Uwan (Fung-wong) Situation Overview,” 2025.
⁶ Commission on Audit (COA), “Audit Report on Flood Control Projects,” 2024.
⁷ Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism (PCIJ), “Billions Lost in Flood Control Corruption,” 2023.
⁸ Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR), “NGP Accomplishment Report,” 2019.
⁹ Conservation International Philippines, “Ecological Assessment of Reforestation Programs,” 2020.
¹⁰ COA, “Performance Audit of the National Greening Program,” 2019.
¹¹ Environmental Science for Social Change (ESSC), Deforestation and Disaster in Mindanao, 2014.
¹² Mines and Geosciences Bureau (MGB), “Mining Industry Statistics,” 2024.
¹³ Environmental Science for Social Change (ESSC), Mapping Mining Impacts in Caraga, 2020.
¹⁴ Philippine Daily Inquirer, “98 Dead in Masara Landslide,” February 2024.
¹⁵ Department of Finance, “Mining Revenue and Fiscal Contribution Report,” 2023.
¹⁶ Global Witness, Defending the Philippines: Annual Report on Land and Environmental Defenders, 2024.
¹⁷ UN Human Rights Council, “Report on Indigenous Peoples and Extractive Industries in the Philippines,” 2023.
¹⁸ Karapatan Alliance Philippines, Red-Tagging and Human Rights Violations under the Anti-Terrorism Act, 2022.
¹⁹ Commission on Audit (COA), Annual Audit Report on Infrastructure Projects, 2024.
²⁰ Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism (PCIJ), “Kickbacks and Ghost Projects in Flood Control,” 2023.
²¹ Rappler, “Flood Control Structures Collapse After Tino: Communities Demand Accountability,” November 2025.
²² COA Special Audit, “Emergency Procurement and Relief Distribution Irregularities,” 2023.
²³ Patrick Ziegenhain, Disaster Politics and Patronage in Southeast Asia, 2021.
²⁴ Ateneo School of Government, “Inequalities in Disaster Risk Reduction Across Philippine LGUs,” 2022.
²⁵ Action for Economic Reforms, “Budget Insertions and Pork: A Continuing Challenge,” 2023.
²⁶ UN Office for Disaster Risk Reduction, Philippines Governance Assessment, 2022.
²⁷ Oxfam Philippines, “Localizing Disaster Risk Reduction: Gaps and Opportunities,” 2023.
²⁸ NDRRMC, “Audit of Pre-Disaster Risk Reduction Programs,” 2022.
²⁹ Senate Blue Ribbon Committee, “Proposed Amendments to the Anti-Graft Law,” 2024.
³⁰ Transparency International, Beneficial Ownership Transparency in Southeast Asia, 2023.
³¹ Housing and Land Use Regulatory Board (HLURB), “The Case for a National Land Use Act,” 2021.
³² Lumad Research Center, Indigenous Ecological Governance Systems in Mindanao, 2021.
³³ Municipal Government of Sibagat, “Organic Agriculture Program Report,” 2023.
³⁴ University of the Philippines Department of Political Science, “Participatory Governance and People’s Councils in the Philippines,” 2022.
³⁵ MIHANDs Network, Annual Humanitarian and Resilience Report, 2024.
³⁶ Walden Bello, Climate Justice and Structural Inequality in the Philippines, 2020.
³⁷ Transparency International, “Anti-Corruption Reforms for Disaster-Prone Countries,” 2022.
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