The country observes National Resilience Month this July—under the banner of readiness and recovery. Government agencies are rolling out awareness campaigns, conducting simulation drills, and showcasing disaster preparedness programs. But in the Philippines’ most vulnerable and disaster-prone areas—where typhoons, floods, volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, poverty, and armed conflict converge—these gestures ring hollow for many.
“For communities in GIDA (geographically isolated and disadvantaged areas), resilience remains an elusive promise—undermined not just by natural hazards but by the very policies and development priorities that claim to protect them. These communities are not just neglected; they are actively placed in harm’s way by a government that enables the destruction of ecosystems, militarizes aid, and criminalizes care,” says Florence Kang, newly elected National Chairperson of the Citizens Disaster Response Network (CDRN).
Under Republic Act 10121, or the Philippine Disaster Risk Reduction and Management (DRRM) Act of 2010, the government is mandated to promote inclusive, community-based, preventive, and proactive approach to disasters. The law recognizes civil society organizations (CSOs)[1] and the meaningful participation of communities themselves as essential actors in both immediate response and long-term risk reduction. But 15 years since its enactment, the law has been unevenly, often selectively implemented—especially in marginalized and conflict-affected areas. Many of the CSOs pushing for its full realization are the same ones being harassed, surveilled, or vilified today.
“In many of these areas, it is not the government, but local CSOs—already embedded in the communities they serve—that act as the first responders and often the last to leave. They preposition supplies, train community volunteers, build early warning systems, and develop local risk reduction plants—not from the outside, but from within the communities themselves. They do this despite being underfunded, unprotected, and increasingly under attack,” says Kang.
Across the country, humanitarian and development workers are being red-tagged, harassed, and criminalized simply for doing their jobs. These are not isolated incidents or bureaucratic errors. They are part of a deliberate and escalating campaign to delegitimize civil society, particularly those working with indigenous peoples, peasants, fisherfolks, and other grassroots communities. Community organizers, relief workers, and environmental defenders face trumped-up charges, illegal arrests, office raids, surveillance (including digital surveillance), and even threats to their lives. Many organizations have been forced to scale back or shut down critical operations[2], leaving entire communities without critical support[3] in the face of increasingly frequent and severe disasters.
This repression happens alongside a worsening climate crisis—a crisis the government continues to deepen through its continuing support for extractive, profit-driven projects. As seas rise and storms become more violent, state-sanctioned mining, reclamation, and dredging projects tear through forests, coastlines, and ancestral lands. These projects are framed as “development,” but their true cost is paid by communities left flooded, poisoned, devastated and displaced.
In some lowland and coastal barangays, dredging operations have driven away fish stocks, destroyed mangroves, and aggravated flooding. In the upland areas, open-pit mining has flattened whole mountains, stripped entire mountainsides of vegetation and soil, destabilized slopes, and contaminated vital water sources—turning ecological threats into humanitarian crises. These are not just environmental impacts. They are clear violations of climate justice, human rights, and the right to live in dignity and safely.
Such practices blatantly contradict the Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk Reduction, which calls on governments to address the root causes of risk—including environmental degradation, inequality, and unsustainable land use. By promoting extractive industries in vulnerable regions, the Philippine government is not just failing to reduce risk—it is manufacturing disaster.
And when CSOs speak out, they are punished for it. Groups that defend indigenous land, oppose destructive industries, or advocate for climate-resilient alternatives are vilified as enemies of the state. Their offices are raided. Their leaders are silenced. Their legitimacy is attacked while their absence in the field is felt most sharply by the communities they serve.
“Let us be clear: resilience cannot be built while the environment is destroyed and the people defending it are demonized. It cannot exist where humanitarian and development workers face threats for doing life-saving work. And it cannot be meaningfully discussed without naming the structural violence that places some communities permanently in harm’s way,” adds Kang.
“National Resilience Month must not become another state performance of preparedness. It must reckon with the truth: disasters are not natural—they are political. Who gets to be safe, who is left behind, and who is punished for trying to help are all questions of power. Resilience must be rooted in justice: climate justice, social justice, and the right of people to determine their own future without fear of repression,” says Jazmin Jerusalem, Executive Director of the multi-awarded Disaster Response and Rehabilitation NGO, the Leyte Center for Development (LCDe).
This means an immediate end to red-tagging and the criminalization of development workers, the full and meaningful implementation of RA 10121, with genuine grassroots leadership and participation; and a reversal of state policies that continue to sacrifice people, ecosystems, and entire communities in the name of profit and militarized development.
“It also means that the government must fully recognize CSOs in all structures and diversities, as indispensable development actors and partners in line with Sustainable Development Goal 17, which emphasizes inclusive, accountable partnerships. CSOs are essential to national progress as they ensure community-rooted solutions and people-centered development,” says Rochelle Porras, Vice President of the Council for People’s Development and Governance.
The growing resistance on the ground is not a threat—it is a response. It comes from communities who have seen their lands flooded and forests razed, their rivers poisoned, their livelihoods erased. It is a stand against destructive resource extraction, militarization, and abandonment. It is a refusal to be rendered invisible by a state that too often speaks of “resilience” while ignoring the root causes of vulnerability. Because in the end, resilience does not trickle down from authority—it rises up from resistance. It is found in the everyday courage of communities and the people who walk with them—even when they are surveilled, harassed, red-tagged, arrested, or disappeared; even when it becomes dangerous to do so
[1] CSOs include nongovernment organizations (NGOs), professional associations, foundations, independent research institutes, community-based organizations (CBOs), faith-based organizations, people’s organizations, social movements, and labor unions. (See: https://lawphil.net/statutes/repacts/ra2010/ra_10121_2010.html)
[2] These include the essential behind-the-scene activities that allow humanitarian and development organizations to function—such as securing funding, coordinating with local partners, transporting supplies, deploying staff to the field, conducting needs and capacity assessments, and ensuring the safety and accountability of programs. Without these foundational tasks, organizations cannot deliver services effectively or respond to emergencies.
[3] This refers to the direct help communities receive, such as food distributions, medical care, shelter, clean water psychosocial support, legal assistance, and emergency relief. These services are often the only lifeline for people affected by poverty, conflict, or disasters.