13/06/2026
𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 | The Philippines still isn't ready
Mindanao suffered a magnitude 7.8 earthquake on June 8, 2026, and as of today, June 13, the Office of Civil Defense (OCD) reported 61 deaths with at least 31 individuals still missing. They also reported that most deaths were caused by earthquake-induced landslides and falling debris from structures. Now, these causes can be ruled as a natural phenomenon as they are almost everywhere in earthquake-related news; however, naturally occurring does not mean normal. The numbers shown above aren’t mere statistics but lives of “what could’ve been,” cut short because of the failure of human foresight, regulatory enforcement, and structural integrity that turned a natural hazard into a man-made catastrophe.
No amount of “drop, cover, and hold” drills can stop a building from collapsing onto one’s body. And certainly, no amount of post-disaster aid and donations can reverse a tragedy that should have been prevented by safe engineering in the first place.
The Philippines is historically vulnerable to natural disasters, primarily typhoons and earthquakes. This geographic and seismic vulnerability demands safer building codes and stricter infrastructure enforcement, especially given the long history of lives lost and minds traumatized, as proven by statistics and testimonies. Despite this clear pattern, we see little to no systemic improvements. Instead, we are offered a narrative of "Filipino resilience," a hollow badge of honor used to cover up years of institutional inconsistency until a recent disaster — in this case, the Mindanao earthquake — pushes the entire facade down.
Videos featuring the violently shaking ground and the collapse of multiple structures have been circulating across various social media platforms. The most viral video, recorded from several different angles, shows the destruction of the RD Plaza building on Pendatun Avenue in General Santos City — the structure housing Love Radio on the upper floor and Jollibee on the ground floor. The building had already stood for 30 years and had weathered nearly a dozen major earthquakes, including the magnitude 6.9 tremor in November 2023. Yet, like many aging structures across the country, it remained a product of an earlier era of seismic design and construction.
Its collapse was neither random nor insignificant. Based on the building's structural characteristics, it appeared to display features consistent with a classic "soft-story" failure — a type of collapse in which a relatively open ground floor is less capable of resisting earthquake forces than the upper stories. While official structural investigations are still needed to determine the precise cause, the disaster raises difficult questions about how older commercial buildings are evaluated, maintained, and retrofitted.
What makes this especially tragic is that just two months before the earthquake, the ground-floor Jollibee branch completed an extensive, five-month aesthetic renovation to provide a "modern, spacious setup." While millions of pesos were invested in pristine glass facades and modern interiors, the building itself remained decades old. Although employees and customers managed to escape moments before the collapse, the same fortune was not shared at the Calumpang Commercial Complex.
Both structures shared the same architectural vulnerability — a wide-open ground floor for customer accommodation — and suffered the exact same fate: a total pancake-collapse. However, the Calumpang building, which housed a Savemore Market branch, trapped and killed three employees. Because the earthquake struck at 7:37 A.M., the store had not yet opened to the public, leaving only early-shift workers inside. Three employees lost their lives. Had the earthquake struck later in the morning, when the building was filled with shoppers, the death toll could have been significantly higher.
With these collective failures, it is undeniable that the Philippines is fundamentally unprepared for another mega-earthquake.
It is widely understood that bureaucratic shortcuts and weak local enforcement allow developers and contractors to bypass safety standards, often letting structures get away with using substandard materials. Compounding the problem is that the National Structural Code of the Philippines (NSCP), while comprehensive on paper, cannot achieve its purpose without consistent enforcement and the retrofitting of aging structures. The NSCP is updated roughly every 5 to 7 years, with its last major framework established in 2015. It is highly advanced on paper because it is heavily adapted from the Uniform Building Code (UBC) and International Building Code (IBC) of the United States, assuming the Philippines is an active seismic zone and mandating that modern high-rises withstand extreme shaking.
However, the structural code is designed primarily around the principle of life safety. In practice, this means a building may legally crack, deform, and even become unusable during a major earthquake, provided it remains standing long enough for occupants to evacuate safely. That philosophy reflects international engineering standards and recognizes that no structure can be made completely earthquake-proof.
Yet even the strongest engineering standards cannot compensate for weak enforcement, aging infrastructure, substandard construction, or buildings that were never upgraded to meet modern seismic expectations. A building code is only as effective as the inspections, accountability, and retrofitting that accompany it.
Beyond the limits of the code itself lies another systemic weakness: the continued grandfathering of older buildings. Existing structures are generally not required to comply automatically whenever seismic standards are revised. Buildings constructed decades ago may legally continue operating under the standards that existed when they were built unless they undergo major renovations, change occupancy, or are declared unsafe. As a result, thousands of older commercial and residential buildings across Philippine cities remain vulnerable despite advances in earthquake engineering — a reality exemplified by the aging RD Plaza building.
Arguments persist about how expensive retrofitting is and how the government is not financially responsible for upgrading private infrastructure. Both points are economically true. But when we are talking about human lives, the monetary cost means nothing — especially when the Filipino people pay heavy taxes daily. Most importantly, a falling building knows no boundaries; when it collapses, it crushes everyone in its vicinity, regardless of property lines. While local government units and their Offices of the Building Official (OBOs) may not be responsible for building private structures, they are legally mandated to regularly inspect them and enforce necessary structural retrofitting when a property poses a public danger.
If the 61 lives lost in Mindanao are to mean anything, this disaster must mark the end of the continued grandfathering of unsafe buildings and the corruption that enables unsafe construction. Because if we continue on this path, "The Big One" will expose the same systemic failures on an even larger scale — only with far deadlier consequences. It is time to get angry, it is time to demand institutional accountability, and yes, it is time to show fear. Resilience and tolerance won't save us. Radical policy change will.
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Cartoon by Cheska Gablines
Graphics by Elyssa Dikitanan
