EXPLAINER | BAHANG-BAHA SA ULAN? Unpacking the archipelago’s flood crisis

When it rains, dread ripples across the archipelago. Each raindrop echoes the heavy tick of a clock counting down to the next flood. And that timer, rigged by poor planning and corruption, keeps resetting itself. The cycle has become too familiar: homes underwater, students wading through murky waters, and roads turning into rivers — year after year, treated as another burden to endure.

But to simply dismiss flooding as a “normal” occurrence that Filipinos must brace for and overcome is to disregard the historical, political, and economic aspects that make certain people twice more vulnerable to the hazard. 

Just recently, torrential Habagat rains left regions of the country struggling to stay above water. Luzon suffered chest-deep floods, while low-lying areas in the Visayas were likewise inundated, displacing thousands. And in Mindanao, once mistakenly believed to be a ‘typhoon-free’ region, farming villages were swept away by the heavy downpour. While all three island groups are making headlines for their flooding woes, each faces its own struggle for survival against rising waters.

Luzon

In July 1972, “The Great Philippine Flood” was recorded as one of the worst flooding disasters in the country. It pounded Central and Northern Luzon with torrential rains for about a month, where 700 lives were lost due to the immense flooding that came after four consecutive typhoons.

Fifty-three years later, Luzon is again drenched in devastation in the same month as Typhoons Crising, Emong, and Dante relentlessly battered the region for weeks. This time, however, the impact of floods lays bare  the consequences of unsustainable urbanization, where progress pushes through while people are left behind. 

Environmentalists say that the worsening flood crisis directly links to massive reclamation, mega-dam projects, and the collapse of watershed systems, which would supposedly help prevent floodwater downstream. A 2023 study by the policy think tank Legal Rights and Natural Resources Center (LRC) reported that 6.8 million hectares of watersheds, nearly half the total, are vulnerable to deforestation, biodiversity loss, siltation, erosion, floods, landslides, and water pollution. This weakening natural environment threatens communities who depend on them, making it harder to access clean water and increasing their risk to floods.

Looking into the case of Masungi Georeserve, located in the Upper Marikina Watershed, the study further noted how the area remains under constant threat from illegal land grabbing from resorts and estate developments.  

Billie Dumaliang, co-founder of the Masungi Georeserve Foundation, warned of “bigger flood extent” in cities like Marikina and Pasig if deforestation persists, citing data from Typhoon Ondoy in 2009 that affected five million people and led to over 400 casualties.

While deforestation and unguarded watersheds are tagged culprits to Luzon’s increased flooding, another invisible threat actively pulls its ground down.

Flood risks intensify in Metro Manila as it experiences land subsidence, a slow but steady sinking of the ground that makes light rainfall or tidal activity trigger floods. Largely driven by excessive deep well pumping and unregulated urban growth,  this often-unnoticed phenomenon poses a  threat to urban areas or places already prone to flooding, such as Malabon and Navotas. Along with parts of Bulacan, especially industrial, residential, and agricultural areas, the region is sinking at an alarming rate of 109mm per year.   

As the very ground gives way, flooding happens so often that they become normalized.   

The drill goes on, rescue and medic volunteers brave the weather to reach out,  people restore and rebuild, and once more, the resilient Filipino is hailed. 

President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. welcomed the year 2025 with a message of optimism after 2024 was hit by several calamities. “Reflecting on the resilience we have shown in overcoming them, it is crucial for our progress to esteem such moments as hallmarks of the extraordinary strength we gain through solidarity and perseverance,” he said, then praising the bayanihan tradition seen in midst of adversities. 

As a barrage of typhoons struck the country in July 2025, the notion of ‘Filipino resiliency’ has been questioned once again. Mimi Doringo, urban poor leader and the Secretary-General of the Kalipunan ng Damayang Mahihirap (KADAMAY), slammed Marcos Jr.’s call for a “mindset shift” in a situational briefing with government officials. 

“Huwag mo kaming budulin. Kada parating ang SONA mo, nagpi-feeling bayani ka na tipong ililigtas mo kami, pero sa tuwing bumabaha, memes mo lang ang makita. Dahil sa palpak mong mga proyekto, lalong lumala ang perwisyo sa amin, at sa huli kami pa ang sinisisi mo,” she posted on X (formerly Twitter).

As the cycle of flood and neglect continues, “compassion fatigue” looms over disaster response workers. “A lot of the towns were submerged and had no choice but to expose themselves to the flood water. It was challenging to reach out,”  said a volunteer doctor in Bicol who struggled after the back-to-back storms in 2024.   

No one is truly exempt from the mental health toll of disasters — not even the ones who went to great lengths to help their countrymen. They after all were typhoon survivors first before they became volunteers. 

Visayas

Talks on typhoon-induced trauma hold even more weight when we remember how Super Typhoon Yolanda devastated Tacloban City in the Eastern Visayas region. 

After the catastrophic 2013 disaster, survivors continue to carry the memory of their traumatic past beyond the physical destruction. From the loss of family members to livelihoods, these experiences have led to mental health challenges that could take months or years to fully recover.

Arleen Grace Rosal, a psychiatrist in the Eastern Visayas Medical Center, was called back to work before she could properly mourn her aunt and uncle, who were storm victims.  

Even with the presence of national and international medical professionals later on, Rosal felt that caregivers like herself were deprived of the care and support they needed.

“It was so difficult […] Every time I was writing down prescriptions [for my patients], I remember my own relatives. My patients told me their stories, but of course I couldn’t tell them my own, even if I was a victim myself,” she said in an interview with Inquirer.

The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates 800,000 people in hard-hit disaster areas need medical help to prevent mental disorders, with 80,000 requiring immediate intervention. 

While the painful memories of Yolanda persist, the Visayas region continues to contend with the worst of weather conditions.

In December 2021, just in time for the holiday break, Typhoon Odette made landfall several times on different islands in Visayas. Cebu Province and as well as other areas in Southern Leyte remained without power for 72 hours or even weeks after it struck these places. 

It brought destruction to homes, properties, and livelihoods at a time when people were still facing the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic. Power and telecoms collapsed in patterns we’d already seen with Yolanda. Lessons, as it shows, are still unlearned.

The delays in government response reignited urgent calls to create better disaster preparedness plans. But until now, with the recent downpour in the region, strengthened disaster management remains a promise yet to be delivered. 

Meanwhile, in Cauayan, Negros Occidental, a different risk plagues its households. Years of freshwater over-extraction have led to severe, long-lasting saltwater intrusion — which is like salt quietly poisoning the province’s wells and thus, making drinking water unsafe for hundreds. This problem also makes future floods much worse, as there’s less freshwater available and more stagnant, unsafe water after a flood. 

Mindanao 

Mindanao was once erroneously perceived as a typhoon-free region, a misconception spread by the belief that it sits outside the “typhoon belt.” Historical records dating back to 1892 by Jesuit meteorologist Miguel Selga however confirm that typhoons in the region were never as rare as they were presumed to be. Saying so only incites a false sense of security.

Today, the damage caused by typhoons could no longer be denied as rapid flash floods ravage agricultural lands, putting farmers’ livelihood and safety at risk. 

In the Cotabato Basin, floods have been a relentless source of stress for the past three decades. Farmers’ mounting debts and worsening food insecurity are directly fueling discontent and social unrest across Cotabato City and Maguindanao. 

Torn by climate fragility and political instability, conflicts in the area are rooted in a long history of injustice, colonization and patronage politics. Marginalized indigenous and Islamized groups, including the Moros —  who were among the original settlers of Mindanao — are forced to adapt to threats that deprive them from owning their ancestral lands. 

Corn farmers in Bukidnon likewise struggle with heavy rains that trigger erosion across over 52,000 hectares, affecting more than 53,000 farmers. Reliant on rain-fed farming, the weather disrupts cropping seasons, degrades soil quality, and harms their overall production.

Moreover, widespread mining and deforestation across Mindanao increase the risk of deadly flash floods during heavy rains. These were believed to be a major factor in the 2011 Tropical Storm Sendong, which claimed around 1,000 lives. 

In a recent report by Rappler, irregular quarry operations in Barangay Bugo, Cagayan  de Oro are pinned by residents as the culprit for intense flash floods in the area, which forced 100 families to evacuate and caused a fatality. 

Questioned about the legality of their permits, the City Local Environment and Natural Resources Office (CLENRO) responded by citing a Mines and Geosciences Bureau (MGB) clearance that deemed the area was outside “no-go zones,” or is safe for such activities.

From psychological tolls to disputed lands, mapping the archipelago’s flood crisis reveals a fragility rooted not just in natural forces, but in man-made injustices and systemic neglect, leaving Filipinos to drown in the cycle of disaster. What drowns us is not just rain, but decisions made long before the first drop fell.