| Art by Elaine J.E. Degale
On August 5, 2026, a magnitude 6.4 aftershock struck off the coast of Davao Occidental and Sarangani, just three days before the two-month mark of the devastating June 8 magnitude 7.8 earthquake. The earlier quake displaced more than 85,000 people, injured over 1,300, and affected nearly 1.7 million across Mindanao, according to the United Nations Philippines.
Two months later, the earth continues to shift beneath our feet.
The Philippine government previously announced ₱362 million, or roughly $5.96 million, for the restoration of critical infrastructure in Sarangani, General Santos City, and South Cotabato. This level of emergency assistance is excruciatingly necessary, and these efforts to rebuild Mindanao certainly deserve recognition. However, these investments raise a more uncomfortable question: why do communities receive substantial infrastructure funding only after schools collapse, roads crack, and homes crumble?
Grassroots and global initiatives sprang up in various pockets across the SocCSKSarGen Region XII of the Philippines. In the past two months since destructive earthquakes destroyed communities across Mindanao, survivors and volunteers all across the region say the most visible signs of disaster may be fading from the headlines, but recovery is far from over. “There is a glaring disconnect between official reports and reality on the ground,” says youth organizer Lexi Acosta, whose grassroots efforts raised ₱231,695.1 (4,000 USD). “Climate disasters hit disproportionately hard, with informal workers like farmers and fisherfolk bearing the brunt of the impact. True recovery requires listening to these vulnerable groups and delivering targeted support.”
We Have Nothing
In How to Say Babylon, Safiya Sinclair writes of “Babylon” not simply as a place, but as a system of power that sustains inequality. It is a structure built through colonialism, capitalism, and governments that preserve hierarchy, legitimizing its histories and injustices as inherited legacies rather than confronting or dismantling them. While Sinclair writes from the experience of Jamaica (and her father’s extreme Rastafarianism), the metaphor of Babylon offers a compelling lens through which to examine the aftermath of Mindanao’s earthquake. Babylon is the silent specter of injustice that allows inequality to endure across generations.
“Mindanao is paying the price of accountability failures,” says Amnesty International. “This is the time for reckoning and looking into what the government owes the people of Mindanao after years of warnings, repeated tragedies, and missed opportunities to center human rights in governance and public service,” said Ritz Lee Santos, III, Section Director of Amnesty International Philippines.
The question we should be asking now is this: if an earthquake of the same magnitude struck Manila, would the government be prepared to manage its repercussions, particularly for the urban poor living in densely populated communities with little access to open spaces for evacuation? What is the plan for them? And more urgently, are we building public infrastructure with the reality of natural disasters in mind, or are we waiting for catastrophe to expose the weaknesses we already know exist?
The earthquake itself was inevitable. The scale of suffering was not.
“While government agencies operate within their official mandates, those of us working on the ground see the gaps,” says Acosta. “There are unreached communities, relief goods bottlenecked in town centers, and local health units running on empty.”
An earthquake may be an act of nature. Whether that earthquake becomes a humanitarian crisis is a matter of public policy.
Learning to “say Babylon” in Mindanao, then, is learning to name the structures that existed long before June 8. It is learning to recognize the same patterns of inequality, neglect, and demands for accountability that have fueled movements from the Trillion Peso March to the People Power Revolution at EDSA. The fault line beneath the Cotabato Trench is geological. The fault line of inequality, underinvestment, lack of infrastructure, and uneven development is the architecture of Babylon.
“The fault line beneath the Cotabato Trench is geological. The fault line of inequality, underinvestment, lack of infrastructure, and uneven development is the architecture of Babylon.”
The Greatest Love of All
What is undeniable is the dedication of Gen Z youth to serve communities subjected to the earthquake’s wrath. “I found an opportunity to help through Edayas Star Terrace Cafe’s earthquake recovery advocacy during its first anniversary,” says 13-year-old Alexis Esmalana. “I joined in packing food packs and brought water bottles for the affected families.”
Within 48 hours, grassroots organizations and members of the Philippine diaspora mobilized financial assistance, relief goods, and logistical support, delivering aid to families in Balut Island, Sarangani, and General Santos City. “Offshore areas like Balut Island required boats, while mountain communities cut off by landslides could only be accessed by air,” says Acosta. “The climate crisis acts as a force multiplier, meaning we rarely deal with an earthquake in isolation. We were simultaneously navigating flash floods, secondary landslides, and bad weather that severely compromised relief routes and put frontliners in direct danger.”
In the past two months, while power and stability have returned to many areas, families whose homes disappeared into the ruptured earth continue to live in temporary relocation sites that still lack reliable shelter, running water, and electricity. “Over time, those needs have shifted,” says Dan Zapanta Rivera, a youth organizer of Rotaract Club of Metro Koronadal’s Bangon SarGen! initiative. “While families are now generally able to secure their own food and water, their homes remain destroyed or severely compromised.”
You Give, Good Love
The relief effort was made possible through an extraordinary coalition of youth leaders, civic organizations, and community volunteers. Led by the Rotaract Club of Metro Koronadal, the initiative brought together fellow Rotaract clubs from Matutum, Marbel, Koronadal St. Alexius College, Korbel, STI College of Koronadal, and Tupi, alongside a broad network of partners that included the Convergence of Initiatives for Environmental Justice (CIEJ), Food Not Bombs Koronadal, the Kiwanis Club of Tnalak South Cotabato, Sole Strides Running Club, South Cotabato Community Run, Backdoor Hikers, and Koronadal Street Spartan.
Bangon SarGen’s emergency response was further strengthened by the Girl Scouts of the Philippines, South Cotabato Council, the Tupi Youth Emergency Response Team, Red Cross Youth chapters from SEAIT and GVCFI, the Boy Scouts of the Philippines, South Cotabato Council, One Health Leaders Program, Edaya’s Star Terrace Cafe, SocCSKSargen USA, and Project Phil. Student organizations from Notre Dame of Marbel University, including the Junior Social Workers Association, Peacebuilders Organization, College of Arts and Sciences Student Council, Computer Studies Department Student Council, and Phemes Communis Club, also played vital roles, joined by UPV-DOSE XII and the PI-OMICRON Fraternity and Delta Sorority Gamma Lambda Chapter. Together, this coalition demonstrated how locally driven partnerships could mobilize resources, coordinate logistics, and deliver aid rapidly to earthquake-affected communities across southern Mindanao.
“During the earthquake, we volunteered to prepare and distribute food for the victims in Sarangani, one of the areas that suffered the most,” says Samantha Mae Edaya, co-owner of Edaya’s Star Terrace Cafe. “In times of disaster, what matters most is that we stand together as one community and have a heart that is willing to serve. It will make a big difference!”
Two months later, the earth continues to move beneath Mindanao. But the deeper fault line has never been geological alone. As Sinclair reminds us, Babylon is the system that convinces us suffering is inevitable.
The earthquake was inevitable.
Everything that followed was a matter of human choice.
“True hope lies in collective action and systemic change,” says Acosta. “To truly recover, we must address the root causes of these failures and organize together to demand and build material progress.”
