The Department of the Interior and Local Government thought it was being all close and friendly with the public when it posted an announcement with the words, “Mga Abangers, wow. Malupit ang hagupit ni Uwan.” It was not. At a time when communities across the Philippines are currently being flooded, when families are losing homes, valuables, and even lives, the government’s tone sounded less like information and more like mockery. This is not communication. This is carelessness disguised as relatability.
A government agency should never communicate to the public like a meme page. It should not flirt with humor while people are in evacuation centers or emergency responders are waist-deep in floodwater. That post was not just an oversight—it was the revelation of how detached officials have become from the people.
It would be easier to shrug it off as humor, as an attempt to sound relatable to the public. But there is nothing relatable about pain being turned into content. Public communication is not about clever phrasing or funny one-liners. It is about conscience. And conscience has no place in a system that treats floods like a normal thing, typhoons as a hashtag, and victims as viewers. The country does not need a government that knows how to joke. It needs one who knows when not to.
Disaster response in the Philippines has always been more about what the people see rather than the outcome. Press releases over preparation. Publicity instead of prevention. The pattern is not new. Every year, it repeats itself like a cruel season: the floods rise, the speeches about Filipino resilience continue, and repeat. Government officials appear on screen in raincoats, inspecting damage for the cameras, promising solutions they never deliver. Billions are allocated for drainage systems, for disaster preparedness, for climate adaptation—and yet every downpour exposes how little of it reaches the ground.
What that post reveals is more than insensitivity. It shows indifference being normalized. The same indifference that delays relief goods. The same indifference that leaves provinces begging for aid while officials attend parties. It is the kind of coldness that laughs because it has never known the feeling of loss.
Empathy should have been the nation’s first warning system. But we are governed by those who treat calamities as a political campaigning opportunity. They continue to glorify Filipino resiliency, not realizing that it has taken away accountability. They tell us to stay strong so they do not have to stay responsible.
We deserve better than captions that mock and policies that fail. We deserve governance that listens before it speaks, that acts before it jokes. Public service is not content creation but rather compassion in action. It requires leaders who can read the room before they read the comments.
Respect is not earned by sounding like the people. It is earned by standing with them. And in moments of crisis like this, proper communication is better than a joke. Because when people are clinging to their roofs, the last thing that they need is a joke.
A government agency should never communicate to the public like a meme page. It should not flirt with humor while people are in evacuation centers or emergency responders are waist-deep in floodwater. That post was not just an oversight—it was the revelation of how detached officials have become from the people.
It would be easier to shrug it off as humor, as an attempt to sound relatable to the public. But there is nothing relatable about pain being turned into content. Public communication is not about clever phrasing or funny one-liners. It is about conscience. And conscience has no place in a system that treats floods like a normal thing, typhoons as a hashtag, and victims as viewers. The country does not need a government that knows how to joke. It needs one who knows when not to.
Disaster response in the Philippines has always been more about what the people see rather than the outcome. Press releases over preparation. Publicity instead of prevention. The pattern is not new. Every year, it repeats itself like a cruel season: the floods rise, the speeches about Filipino resilience continue, and repeat. Government officials appear on screen in raincoats, inspecting damage for the cameras, promising solutions they never deliver. Billions are allocated for drainage systems, for disaster preparedness, for climate adaptation—and yet every downpour exposes how little of it reaches the ground.
What that post reveals is more than insensitivity. It shows indifference being normalized. The same indifference that delays relief goods. The same indifference that leaves provinces begging for aid while officials attend parties. It is the kind of coldness that laughs because it has never known the feeling of loss.
Empathy should have been the nation’s first warning system. But we are governed by those who treat calamities as a political campaigning opportunity. They continue to glorify Filipino resiliency, not realizing that it has taken away accountability. They tell us to stay strong so they do not have to stay responsible.
We deserve better than captions that mock and policies that fail. We deserve governance that listens before it speaks, that acts before it jokes. Public service is not content creation but rather compassion in action. It requires leaders who can read the room before they read the comments.
Respect is not earned by sounding like the people. It is earned by standing with them. And in moments of crisis like this, proper communication is better than a joke. Because when people are clinging to their roofs, the last thing that they need is a joke.
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Written by Ash Malig, Insight PH
Ash Malig, Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
